#and of course now that i wrote this piece there's more ideas for later and i don't know how long this could get

[reiderwriter]

Hating You Is The Easiest Thing I Can Do

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: When your boss pulls your case out from under you and gives it right to the BAU, you're pissed. You're even more pissed when Doctor Spencer Reid suggests you can't do your job properly. After a week in his company, you decide to give him a piece of your mind

Warnings: Day One of Kinktober - Hate Sex, enemies to lovers, dom/sub, Mean!Dom!Spencer, Brat!Reader, spanking, degradation, spanking, spit kink, sir kink, vaginal fingering, slight creampie, Reader's boss is an asshole, typical office misogyny. Spencer is also an asshole, but that's just because he's a dumbass.

A/N: Special thank you to @reidmotif and @mrs-dr-reid for proofreading this one for me! I wrote this when on a major Pride and Prejudice moment, which is why there's a whole lot of plot before the sex. I hope you like the build-up just as much as the smut! <3 If you like it, don't forget to leave a like, reply, or reblog and tell me your thoughts! ((just as a reminder, apart for Sundays and Tuesdays, I'll be posting all the kinktober fics on AO3 exclusively, so check out my writing there - reiderwriter))

My requests are also back open now, so if you like my writing and have an idea, check out my request guidelines and drop me a message in my inbox! You can find the rest of my masterlist here :)

To say you were angry was an understatement. You were seething, the anger bubbling up inside of you and threatening to lash out at anyone who so much as crossed your path as you made your way down the crappy motel corridor. You'd only known Spencer Reid a week, but you could think of no one you despised more.

The FBI had always been a boys' club, you knew that. There were some goddamn strong women in your field office, of course, but you were outnumbered 10 to 1. Which was why you were so determined to do well on the first case assigned to you as lead Agent. The first week of the case, you'd made sure you were thorough. A body had been found in the park by a jogger, and you darted to the crime scene the moment you got the call. A woman in her early twenties, like you, had been raped, tortured, and then dumped here, her body posed in a demeaning way to make it seem as if she were performing a sexual act. Your entire body shuddered at the sight, but you couldn't let your coworkers see you weak so you powered through. Collecting evidence, getting an ID on the victim, interviewing potential witnesses, and yes, even breaking the news to the poor girl's family, you had been so attentive to every detail of the case and you felt you were making progress, your boss delivered a humbling blow.

"Another body has been discovered. I've invited the Behavioural Analysis Unit in from Quantico because you're in over your head." He'd told you, not even looking up at you from the file he was reading on his desk.

"What? I wasn't told about another body, why wasn't I notified?"

"I didn't think you needed to know, now that the BAU is coming in."

"So I'm off the case? That's it?"

"No, I want you to assist them in their investigation. Tell them everything you've gathered so far, get them situated in the office as best you can."

"Get them coffee when they want it? Rub their feet if they ask for it? This is bullshit, I was making progress, if you'd only have given me more time-"

"Agent, I suggest you walk out of this office right now and get your PMSing under control before I have to suspend you from fieldwork." You pressed your nails further into the beds on your palms then and bit back your tongue from replying, simply giving a terse nod and exiting the office.

It wasn't even an hour later before the new team arrived, and you offered a tense smile and welcome as you got them set up in their own office. The Unit Chief didn't seem too bad, but Aaron Hotchner couldn't exactly be described as the most welcoming of people, and you felt an instant camaraderie with JJ, the other agent who'd come into the office with him. There were more agents apparently, but they'd gone out into the field to check out the new victim and reinterview the family, something you weren't exactly happy about. But, if you were going to be their little bitch for the next week, you were at least thankful they were tolerable and polite.

"So here's everything I've got so far. I've been pretty thorough in my interrogations of potential witnesses, and there are no CCTV cameras in the general vicinity of the dump sites, so I don't think you'll find anything else there that'll aid in your profile."

" If you'd have been thorough you'd have found this though, right?" A new voice popped up from the door, and you felt yourself tense up under the sudden accusation. Looking up you saw he was holding up his phone, a picture of a strange marking on a tree lighting up the screen.

"Excuse me?"

"This was left on a tree roughly thirty feet from the first dump site. I called Rossi and Morgan and they found a similar marking near the second victim. It's a Mesopotamian symbol relating to the worship of prostitutes and sex workers to promote fertility." He spoke plainly, but all you could hear was the condescension in his tone, and your blood boiled with rage.

" Agent Y/L/N, I'm sorry about him, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, he's another member of our team." JJ introduced the man, sending him a warning glance, as if letting him know that he hadn't just put his foot in his mouth directly.

You looked at the man then, really focusing on him now instead of the pictures, and almost cursed out loud again. He was a jerk, but fuck was he attractive. Tousled hair, dark eyes, and a perfectly sculpted jaw, it was as if he were sent from hell directly to piss you off and tempt you. You pushed the attraction aside for the minute then, choosing to be the bigger person and introduce yourself.

"I'm Agent Y/N Y/L/N. And I'm sorry that I'm not an expert on Mesopotamian prostitutes, but I guess that's probably your specialty, right, Doctor?" You held out your hand for him to shake, but he just looked down at it.

"If you're referring to my doctorate, I actually didn't study classic civilizations. I hold PhDs in Math, Chemistry, and Engineering and additional BAs in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology. And I don't do handshakes." He glanced straight past you after that, walking back over to Hotch and filling him in on other things you must've overlooked during your brief time working the case.

You glared at his back, finally letting your hand drop to your side again as you let out an angry chuckle.

"Don't take it personally, Spencer is just… He’s He's not great with people. He'll warm up to you." JJ put a reassuring arm on your shoulder and you nodded. But inside you knew there was not one thing the man could do to reverse the bad opinion of him you'd just gained.

–X–

After the initial anger of having the case seeped out from beneath you wore off, you actually began enjoying your time with the BAU. You hadn't put much thought into profiling before, it usually being so far off your radar while you were working in the field office but you were actually coming to enjoy how they worked, and you'd learned a lot.

Your relationship with Spencer, however, only degraded.

Your hatred had reignited the moment you'd been joined by the rest of the BAU Team. Your boss has finally come down to greet them, and, almost as if making you pay for your earlier comments, had genuinely sent you on a coffee run for them. You could deal with the fact that the man had the most annoyingly complicated coffee order you'd ever heard of in the Bureau, but what you couldn't forgive were the sly comments you walked in on when you returned.

"Come on, Reid. That Agent is easy on the eyes, you should talk to her, get you a slice of that." You'd been introduced to Derek Morgan earlier and you'd instantly pegged him as a flirt, so this wasn't exactly shocking to you. What was a bit surprising was the other man's reply.

"If she's attractive I hadn't noticed. I've been too busy trying to clear up her mess with this case."

You walked in the door then, coffees in hand, and slammed his drink down on the table for him. You handed Morgan to him, double-checking that you'd got both of their orders right before shooting another glare at the man and walking away to find the rest of the team.

But not before hearing Morgan chastise Reid in another whisper: "God man, you gotta be nicer to the kid…"

To say that your working relationship had soured totally after your two personal encounters with the man was simply an untruth. You didn't have a working relationship, you had a working rivalry.

From then on, you'd slyly interrupt the man when he was speaking, telling him to cut his genius rambles in half, that you didn't have all day to sit around and wait for him to stutter his way through his theory while there was a murderer on the loose.

He didn't hold back either, constantly asking you questions he knew you didn't know the answers to, just to smile slyly down at you and make you admit that you weren't as good as him. It was getting so detrimental to the office atmosphere that you had to be genuinely separated after only three days, Hotchner bringing you into the field with him on multiple occasions and forcing Reid to stay behind with JJ to work on a geographical profile.

You'd been with Hotchner at a family interview, working with him to gain details of the second victim's actions and whereabouts leading up to her murder to establish a timeline when you got a call.

Excusing yourself from the room, you quickly picked up the call.

"This is Agent Y/L/N."

"Hotch isn't picking up his phone." That was all the explanation you got from the man on the other side of the phone, his voice instantly grating.

"Yes, I'd assume he isn't, Doctor Reid, because we are currently interviewing a bereaved mother and father and he put his phone on silent. Is there something you need?"

"I need to talk to Hotch."

"Well, you called me. What do you need?" You heard him breathe out a frustrated sigh on the other side of the line, and you rolled your eyes, slightly enjoying being this stubborn and getting under his skin.

"Just tell him we're ready to give the profile, okay?" He hung on you after that and you cursed him down the line, receiving nothing back but the empty beeps of the dial tone.

–X–

It didn't take long after delivering the profile to get your guy, but as he hadn't been in the middle of committing any felonies when you picked him up, you'd had to spend a few days in the interrogation rooms.

Hotch had taken a crack at him and gotten nowhere, and so had Rossi and Emily and Morgan. JJ had been the one to make the arrest, so she went in last and still came out with nothing much. He hadn't layered up yet, as they'd suspected he wouldn't, too egotistical to allow anyone else into the room that he thought he was going to talk himself out of.

"We're getting nowhere with this, Hotch. I think I have an idea that could get him to start talking." Reid said as you all stared at the man through the one-way glass.

"What, you think you can charge in there and get him to talk?" It was petty, but it'd been a stressful week, and he was used to this flow of conversation between the two of you.

"No, you are. Hotch, she fits his type, she's attractive, same build and coloring as the previous two victims. I think it'd work." You scoffed at his suggestion.

"Oh so now you think I'm attractive? I thought you hadn't noticed because you were, what, too busy cleaning up my mess?" You crossed your arms as he gave you an incredulous look, and you realized that he didn't think you'd heard him.

"Spencer's right, Y/N." Hotch nodded, looking between the two of you to see if he needed to pull you apart to keep you from fighting or to keep you from jumping each other. You personally weren't sure which you'd like most at that point, cursing yourself as you let your eyes trail down his body.

"It's going to excite him having you so close, you should pop a few of those buttons, too," Reid suggested looking down at your chest as you scoffed and crossed your arms.

"Oh you'd really like that," you mumbled under your breath, but a swift look from Hotch had you shutting your mouth again as he began to brief you.

Going in you felt a surge of pettiness seep through you. You were going to nail this guy, get him to talk about every little nasty thing he did to those girls, and prove to your boss that you could do this when every member of the BAU had tried and failed. But a small, dim, and annoying reminder at the back of your head whispered in your ear that you'd be pleasing Spencer then as well. Proving him right. You weren't sure if you wanted to succeed to hear him or your boss say "good job" to you after you finally succeeded, but when you imagined it with him, he was a whole lot closer, right in your ear, body pressed against yours.

You focused on your anger over your attraction and pushed into the room, ready to stare down a monster and escape unharmed.

–X–

It had worked, of course. It had taken a few hours of building rapport but you'd done it. You'd had him eating out the palm of your hand while he confessed to the three murders you knew about and an extra four that you didn't.

A day of retrieving bodies later and by 10 pm, the case was finally closed.

"Well done, kid, you really got him in that interview. That was some great work." Morgan nudged your elbow as he grabbed his duffle, exiting the makeshift office.

"Don't forget we're getting drinks at the cocktail bar in half an hour. Shower off that mud and change into a hot dress, Agent, and I'll buy you your first shot." Emily called back to you from the exit too, leaving you in a fit of giggles as you promised her you would.

Once they'd all gone, you started packing up your things ready to leave yourself when there was another knock at the door.

" Hey, I need to grab my bag." Reid stood in the door awkwardly, and your smile dropped into a politely neutral face as you nodded to him.

"Don't let me stop you, Doc."

"Spencer."He said, stepping a bit closer to you.

"What?"

"I want you to call me Spencer. You keep calling me Doctor or Doc, I want you to call me Spencer."

"No. Doctor Reid is just fine for me."

"And what if I want more?" He grabbed your wrist as you turned to go, using a bit too much force and leaving you stumbling into him, hitting his chest as you looked up at him, your noses almost touching with the proximity.

"Let me go," you growled, but his grip loosened and you didn't move an inch.

"What if I want more?" He asked again, a little more insistent this time, his eyes dark in the dim room, expression unreadable.

"Why should I care what you want, Doctor Reid?"

"Because I think you want it, too. Because I think that despite all the odds, you want me just as much as I want you."

Your anger burst out of you in a sarcastic laugh then at his presumptuous words.

"Despite all the odds? What odds are those Spencer? You treat me like shit, ignoring me, refusing to even shake my hand, and downplaying the hard fucking work I put in before you got here? God, you are so fucking narcissistic." You finally stepped away from him then, turning away to regain your composure.

"Me? I'm not the one who missed some vital fucking evidence in a murder investigation, Y/N, so I'm sorry I wasn't the most welcoming person, but God if we're talking egos, you should probably check yourself."

"Forget it, you're impossible. I really tried to be nice to you, but more fool me for making messes you had to clean up."

"Are you still stuck on that? Y/N, I'm sorry, but Derek just has a way of-" He stepped closer to you again and you could feel the oxygen being sucked from your lungs.

"Don't you dare blame this on Morgan. You're attracted to me and you fucking despise that, and it's none of Morgan’s fault. Now please, just get out of this fucking office and go back to your motel room." You practically hissed those last words at him, holding back the urge to scream in frustration. Your lips were so close now, as his chest heaved, hands clenched by his sides as he resisted the urge to grab you.

"Forgive me… for suggesting something so obviously repulsive to you." With that, he brushed past you and walked out, leaving you reeling at his almost confession, head light from the lack of air. He'd taken your breath with him as he left the room.

–X–

The promise of free shots had convinced you to get back out to the bar as promised, not letting Reid and his fickle moods control when and where you'd be enjoying yourself.

You finally showed up at the bar and were greeted by hugs from JJ and Emily, already one drink in as they immediately handed you a shot from the bar. Guiding you back to the table, you paused as you saw him there.

Morgan was sat at the table, happily chatting away with Reid, who'd since grown quiet, eyes meeting yours before leaving to rake down your frame. You resisted the urge to cover yourself, confidently standing tall as he devoured you with his eyes. Changing out of your work clothes, you'd decided that you needed some fun tonight, donning a short red dress, barely hitting the tops of your thighs, hugging your curves tightly, and pushing your chest up so it nearly spilled out completely. You'd completed the look with thigh-high black boots and a red lip, looking the absolute image of lust - or anger - personified.

"Whew mama, you look good, Y/N." Morgan greeted you, standing up to give you a kiss on the cheek. Reid still said nothing but kept his eyes trained on you as he took another sip of his drink.

"I was promised shots and dancing, I think I'm dressed pretty appropriately don't you think?" You smiled and giggled up at Morgan, letting your touch linger on him a little longer to see if it would spur Reid into action.

"Have I ever told you about my very good friend Penelope Garcia? I think you two would get along just fine."

The rest of the night continued in a similar vein. You'd stepped out onto the dance floor with Emily and JJ, letting whatever man wanted to sidle up close, begging one of them to be a distraction from the man whose eyes were boring into you from the other side of the room. It didn't work. Their hands were on your hips, guiding you to the sound of the music but in your head, all you saw was him, doing the same.

It didn't help that he was getting hit on constantly from his perch beside Morgan, and you watched with a bitter feeling at the bottom of your stomach as women tried, unsuccessfully, to get him to pay attention to them. After another frustrating invitation for a tryst with a local man, you excused yourself from the dance floor, finding Morgan in the bar, letting him know that you were calling it a night.

"Where's Reid?" You asked, trying and failing to sound casual as you glanced around the now crowded bar for signs of him.

"He left like ten minutes ago. Said he was tired and went back to the motel."

"Was he…" You didn't want to finish the question, not knowing which answer you'd prefer, but Morgan filled in the gaps himself with a wide grin.

"Alone? Yes, kid. Here, it's the address of the motel we're staying at and his room number." You hesitated before grabbing the paper and grabbing your stuff, practically running from the bar and hopping in the nearest taxi.

–X–

That's how you found yourself stomping down the corridor of the motel, pounding on his door at 1 a.m., unashamed in your brazen actions. He opened the door, slightly shocked to see you there, and you pushed your way inside and turned on him as you shut the door.

"What the fuck was all of that?" You demanded as soon as he turned back to you. His shirt was open now, jacket and tie discarded on the floor somewhere deeper into the room, but you forced yourself to look up into his eyes, away from the pale plains of his skin.

"What was what, Y/N?"

"You, staring at me like that the whole night and then just leaving."

"Did you want me to stay?"

"I want you to stop answering my questions with questions, Reid. This is bullshit, you can't act like a dick to me all week and then look at me like I'm a piece of meat you want to rip apart, for fucks sake."

"You made it very clear earlier tonight that you wanted no part of this, Y/N. Are you saying I should've done something else?"

"That's another fucking question, Spencer! If you don't start actually talking to me, I swear to god, I'll-" You ran a hand through your hair, and when you looked up again, he was closer than ever. You backed up into the wall, but he followed you, pressing a leg between your own. Slowly and with that condescending grin plastered across his face, he drawled out his next words.

"You'll what?"

Your lips crashed against his with the fury of your frustrations, a mess of teeth and tongue and biting anger as you surged forward into him.

With a rough push of your hips, he slammed you back into the wall, taking charge of the situation, coaxing his tongue into your mouth, battling you for control, and winning. Grabbing you by the neck he slowly pulled his lips away from yours, leaving you gasping for breath.

"Don't be such a brat, Y/N. When I ask you questions, it's because I want answers." You moaned as you tried to regain his lips, but he chuckled and kept you pinned.

"Tell me, baby, what should I have done earlier instead? Got down on my knees to beg your forgiveness, or thrown you over that desk and used you like a cheap little whore? I think I know which one you prefer."

You moaned at his words, but kept your mouth twisted in a grimace, choosing not to answer. He got tired of waiting, and, with a swiftness you didn't know he possessed, twisted you around so your hands were planted against the wall, your chest pushing against it too as he pulled your hips up and out, effectively baring your pantie-clad pussy to him as your dress pushed up and over your ass all by itself.

"So fucking slutty. You let all those men in that club touch you while you stared at me the entire time." He ran his hands across your ass massaging you underneath your underwear before pulling his hands away again and grabbing your hips. He pushed his clothed cock against you from behind and you moaned at how hard and big he felt already.

"Was this what you wanted, brat?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"I think you'd much prefer it if I fucked you, don't you think?" He turned you around again, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around him, the new angle pressing your core further into his cock.

"Open your mouth, now." Against your better judgment, your body reacted to him quickly, your tongue dropping out of your mouth as he ground his cock into your core, effectively dry-humping you. With a swift motion, he spat in your mouth, your eyes going wide as you instinctively shut your mouth and swallowed.

"Good girl," he stroked your hair, lifting you up and carrying you to the bed. His lips locked with yours as you tasted his spit on your lips, letting him take control and move you in any way he pleased.

"But you've been a brat," he said pulling away. "And brats need to be punished."

With that he forced you over his knee, pulling your panties down as he positioned your hips higher, your ass raised. He fisted one hand into your hair and began softly stroking your ass with the other.

"You're going to count for me, baby. If you lose count, we'll start again. With each number, I'll tell you what you did wrong, okay?"

"Fuck, yes, yes sir." With another soft touch, he pulled his hand up and bought it back again down sharply, letting it cup your ass as you hissed from the sting.

"O-One."

"That was for being a brat in the office. Being so confident you missed some vital evidence that was staring you right in the face."

He did it again, and you squirmed under his touch.

"Two."

"That was for teasing me in front of Hotch. Making me get hard right there in the office before you went to interrogate that creep."

"That made you hard?" You gasped out as he cracked out another slap to your ass. "Three."

"That was for talking. You need to stop fucking talking." He stroked your ass again, delivering a fourth, fifth, and sixth blow in quick succession as you felt yourself leak your arousal all over his lap.

"That was for dressing like a little whore tonight. That was for flirting with Morgan. That was for letting another man touch you. What do you have to say for yourself now, brat?" Your breaths stuttered out of you as you tried to compose yourself, confident that he'd finished your punishment now.

"G-Go…. FuckFuck yourself." He growled and threw you back on the bed, ripping your dress off over your head and letting his lips return to yours as he trailed his hand to between your legs, finally pushing two fingers inside of you as you moaned and writhed beneath him.

" I hate you," you moaned in his ear as his lips trailed down to your breasts.

"You have a funny way of showing it." Your orgasm was rapidly approaching, so close you could practically taste it. He sensed it as well, though, and pulled his fingers out of you before you could reach that bliss.

"You thought it would be that easy, brat?" he whispered in your ear with a low chuckle before flipping you over to your front and thrusting his fingers back into you from behind, causing another moan to rip from your throat, uncontrollably loud in the otherwise silence of the motel at night.

Unzipping his pants and freeing his cock, you felt the weight of it on your ass as he rubbed his precum against your now bright red asscheeks.

"You're going to look so pretty with my cum decorating your ass baby. It's going to make your ass feel better, too."

"You're disgusting," you spit at him, but your hips push harder into his dick, trying desperately to capture him inside of you and force him to use you.

"No more talking, bitch. Take my fingers." He pushed a hand into your mouth and you started twirling your tongue around them, using your distraction to finally violently thrust his dick all the way inside you. You screamed at the sudden filling, cumming around his cock in an instant, trying to milk him for all he was worth. But he clamped a hand down over your mouth so that all that fell from your face was escaped tears and muffled pleas for more.

"Gonna use you like this baby, gonna make you admit you love me."

His thrusts gained a steady pace as your brain emptied beneath him, desperate for more of the pleasure his body was supplying you with. He released your mouth then, content that all your energy seemed to be spent on pushing your ass back into his, listening to the wet, sloppy sounds of your activity.

"Do you like that, brat? You like me making you feel like this, huh?" He slapped your ass again as he thrust, and you moaned back with a nod.

"Yes, Spencer, don't stop… Don't stop." You moaned again, another orgasm rolling over your body, causing you to clench unconsciously around his cock.

"So good baby, you're responding so well to my cock." He trailed a hand underneath you to your clit and started rubbing it in time to his thrusts.

"One more for me. One more and I'll pull out, okay? Just one more."

"I can't, Spencer I can't do it.." You whined underneath him, face fully buried in the motel pillows. You were surprised he even heard you through the tears as the material.

"Yes you can, baby, look you're so close already, just do one more."

"I hate you," you moaned again, feeling your third and final orgasm wash over you, your eyes rolling back in your head as your body started twitching and didn't stop. You felt a small twitch from him too, as he finished thrusting inside of you, letting a little bit of his cum escape into you before pulling out and decorating your ass with his ejaculation.

He fell by the side of you and gasped desperately for a few minutes, before grabbing a hot wet towel from the bathroom and cleaning your ass off.

"Spencer…" you croak out eventually, regaining some clarity, but still not moving much from your spot in his bed.

"Spencer, I don't hate you."

"I know. I don't hate you either. Which is probably for the best."

"What? Why?"

"Hotch just requested your transfer to the Quantico Office so you could start training with the BAU. You did a good job this week, Y/N." Your eyes started watering again and you gently pushed away tears as he laughed at you, asking why you were crying.

"I'm not happy," you joked.

"I just realized that means I have to work with you more." You both laughed at that. You didn't hate each other exactly, but that didn't mean you could work together well either.

And you didn't want to if this was the outcome of your bickering and hatred.

[wonysugar]

close the door | hanni pham

synopsis : you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she.

genre : fluffy smut!

pairing : non-idol!hanni x gf!femreader

tags : they’re in love your honor, lots of kissing and making out, cuddling, l-bombs, top!femreader, bottom!hanni, they’re both virgins, fingering, clit play, nipple play, neck kissing, hanni’s dogs are mentioned twice lawl, lots of comfort, lots of consent! they’re literally just lovey dovey girlfriends having sex for the first time aheheh

warnings : none :]

word count : 2.5k

a/n : if you’re rereading this and thinking “hey the synopsis changed and there wasn’t an author’s note before!!” well you’d be right I POSTED THIS IN A RUSH I’M SO SORRYYFKEJF

anyways!! this is just to say that this fic is inspired by the lovely writer that is sorry for tagging you twice ahh @facefullofsadness’s fic right over here :] sooo GO READ THAT FIRST! it’s truly lovely and i really enjoyed reading it, hence why i wrote thisskfke. thank you for readingg<33

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

you would die for your girlfriend, actually, even if you only started dating barely a few months ago. who could blame you? that’s what happens when you’ve been best friends prior to your relationship for so, so, so long. it simply started with a ‘hi! my name’s hanni! what’s yours?’ from her part at the innocent age of seven and just like that, years later, you guys were still inseparable. 

so really, your life-long friendship and months-long relationship were both with the same gorgeous and outgoing girl, and the only thing distinguishing those two was the label you used to describe them.

“bro i genuinely don’t understand why he doesn’t just… run away. cause— get this, there’s obviously a murderer in his house right? and what does he decide to do about that? just stay in there. like, okay.. like i’m aware they needed plot but lord, i don’t know at least make it somewhat realistic you know what i mean—“ was what your girlfriend said, on her bed as she sat down in between your legs and leaned her back against you, her head facing forward and resting on your shoulder.

you simply nodded along to her words as you played with her hair, trying your hardest to stay focused on the piece of media before you whilst also paying your utmost attention to her, despite her constant ranting and criticizing of the entire movie. you, having originally liked the film, were now conflicted about your opinion on it. it’s not like she was wrong, her very heavy criticism had to have come from somewhere, after all, but you couldn’t help but slightly appreciate the storyline. so, you weren’t really sure what you felt about it anymore.

one thing you were certain of, however, 

was that your girlfriend looked really good while passionately rambling. like, way too good. she had tied her dark hair into a high ponytail, it also looked wavy due to the rain that was pouring on you guys earlier, her messy bangs fell perfectly onto her forehead. and her smile? it always looked perfect. she always looked perfect. 

and since you apparently weren’t hiding your admiration well enough, she very quickly noticed it.

she giggled teasingly. her voice sweet like honey, her australian accent more prominent than usual, she spoke up, “hello?” before full-on laughing, “were you even listening to me?”

you could only kiss her, that seemed like the only appropriate response in the heat of the moment. she, of course, kissed back just as lovingly before pulling away moments after, a curious and confused look on her face. 

“no seriously, what is up with you?” she kept teasing, smiling stupidly as she kept her gaze lingering on yours for the following seconds, her eyes unconsciously drifting to your lips. “you look stupid.”

“and you look really pretty.” was what you whispered back to her, earning a shy smile and an exaggerated eye roll from her. immediately, you made your lips come into contact with hers again. it felt as if the world would stop spinning if you didn’t, like a slowly growing urge to keep touching her suddenly came over you and you needed to fill it.

“so.. so pretty.” you mumbled, so quietly that it was almost to yourself, before going back in. you allowed yourself to make the kiss deeper and slid her tongue across her soft lips as you demanded entrance. you could hear her let out slight noises, she clearly was not expecting you to do anything of the sorts, at least not right now. she was a tad bit confused, but let you in, who in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to kiss their girlfriend? immediately, your hands wrapped around her waist whilst you continued kissing her lovingly, your tongue roaming every part of her mouth.

it didn’t take long before your hands started naturally reaching under her top, caressing on her tummy and progressively going higher with each sound she let out.

you pulled away, slightly worried of going too far, “c-can.. can i continue, hanni?”

you were scared, terrified, even! despite knowing each other for years, you’d only been dating for a few months; those are two completely different things! it’s not like you see your completely platonic best friend’s naked body every tuesday. even then, despite dating, you still haven’t gotten that stage of the relationship. and on top of that,

the two of you were a proper pair of virgins. you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she. you didn’t want to seem like an inexperienced loser to her, you wanted to take care of her and make her feel good. what if that didn’t happen? what if you made it awkward between the two of you?? it was nerve-racking.

as if barging into your mind and reading your thoughts, wanting to reassure you, she grabbed your hand in a gentle manner before nodding. then, she spoke up, “can you close the door?”

“there’s.. nobody home, though?”

she giggled, “oh i know, it’s just that i don’t want the dogs to potentially walk in on this.”

you groaned dramatically, laughing and insisting that you were too lazy to get up and that her dogs wouldn’t understand the situation if they even walked in. she, in response, just tapped your knee with a cheeky smile, encouraging you to stand up.

“come on y/n, close the door. think about milly and mia; think about their innocence!” she exaggerated.

after playfully hitting her arm and laughing along with her, you got up, proceeded to close and lock the door like she asked you to and eventually walked back to her bed, sitting back on it and positioning yourself the way you originally were, her back to you again. 

“happy?” you asked in a fake arrogant tone.

she hummed, radiant, “yes, very happy.” before turning her head just right and kissing you again.

eventually back to the original rhythm of the kiss, you placed your hands back on her stomach again, slowly caressing and teasing higher and higher with time. once you reached her bra, you proceeded to impatiently unhook it, immediately taking it off of her.

her breathing got heavier with each second that passed, partially due to nervousness, probably. you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the case for you too. the more your hands carefully roamed her body, the more self-conscious you got, you truly had no idea what you were doing. 

then, as if something in your mind clicked, you had an idea. what if you just did to her whatever you enjoyed doing to yourself in moments like these? that could work.. right? maybe??

you glided your hand upwards, your finger lightly grazing her nipple. in response to the sudden movement, a lewd sound accidentally escaped from her pretty lips, her breath hitching. that sound was a small moan.

a small one, barely audible, yet it was still enough for you to feel the activation of every single neuron residing in your brain.

then suddenly, it’s like the concept of making love to her wasn’t as nerve-racking as it originally was.

“s-sorry..” she apologized, seeming slightly embarrassed.

you kissed her cheek, reassuring her, “don’t apologize, i wanna hear you.”

despite it being an accident, she seemed to enjoy the sensation of your hand on her chest, so you went back to teasing her tits and gently groping them before you eventually asked, “is it okay if i go further..?”

nodding in a keen manner, she swallowed her saliva, then breathed out her response, “yes. yes keep— keep going. please.”

well shit! even if you wanted to stop, it’s not like you could, not with how good she sounded pleading for you.

not wasting any more time, you proceeded to separate one of your hands from her chest and quickly slid it downwards; to the band of her sweatpants. now, of course, your other hand was still in its original place, working its magic, but you wanted her to feel more. so much more.

you wanted to convey every surge of affection you violently felt for her into pleasure. and, if there was one thing you surely knew how to do, it was kissing her. 

so, you started kissing on her neck, which she didn’t expect whatsoever, and still heavily concentrated on the hand you had on her breast. then, you pulled on the sleeve of her tee just enough to expose her shoulder and moved your mouth towards it, nipping and gently licking it.

your hand now fully slipped into her pants, you teased her entrance through the fabric of her underwear as you kept kissing her naked shoulder. you listened to her attentively and took mental notes of her reactions; so far, her breathing got heavier, her thighs slightly clenched around your hand and she was now frequently biting her lip. 

plus, her panties were wet. 

did all of that mean you were doing good? …perhaps it did!

and did her drenched underwear make you short circuit? perhaps it did as well!

“d-d’you feel okay?” you asked, before going back to slowly kissing her shoulder. she threw you a quick glance, chest heaving up and down. 

“s-so okay.” she giggled.

her smile being contagious, you found yourself doing the exact same thing, content with the answer she gave you.

soon enough, you traced your finger up her clothed slit before eventually sliding it into the undergarment she wore, making her shudder. after what felt like an eternity, you could feel her slick coat your digits from one swipe of the finger. 

it was tantalizing.

growing impatient, you quickly yet carefully settled your middle and ring finger on her swollen clit, making slow circular motions on it, looking at her in the process. full on whimpering, this time, she stared back at you, no longer embarrassed. she wanted to let you know how good you were making her feel, hence why she was getting louder with each movement you made, and it filled you with enough confidence and adrenaline to gently push her head towards you, leaning in for a kiss.

thankfully, she kissed you back, deeply at that, her eyes closed and her quiet moans muffled.

you pulled away after a few moments, “tell me if it hurts, okay?” you reminded her. she simply nodded, brain all fuzzy from arousal.

she grabbed your other hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. “g-go slowly.” she whispered.

“i will.” you affirmed.

slowly and gently, you slid your fingers into her core, making sure not to go too fast or too rough. thankfully, the wetness was making it easier for you, and probably for her as well. every time that your girlfriend’s breath hitched, that her hand gripped harder on yours or, hell, every time that her eyes closed, you stopped in your tracks and double checked to see if you were hurting her, so it took a little while for your digits to fully penetrate her. 

fortunately, she assured you that you weren’t, in fact, hurting her. some moments just felt more comfortable than others, is all.

once they were fully in, you gave her time to get used to the feeling, still double checking on her state every now and then. after a few deep breaths, she nodded.

“i-i’m ready.”

you started to pump your fingers in and out of her, taking in all of her as your speed slowly increased as time went on. naturally, as more time passed, you felt the urge to make her feel good get even stronger.

that’s when you decided to increase the pace, your fingers curling on just the right spot inside her, pumping faster and faster as your thumb played with her clit.

“is this okay baby—” you asked.

“f-fuck— yes y/n that feels good—“ was what she moaned out, cutting you off. a feeling of bliss progressively and clearly overtaking her whole body.

when you tried to look at her despite only being able to see her side profile, you could’ve sworn you saw an angel. her cheeks were slightly tinted with a pinkish color and her eyebrows were upturned, her whole face contorted with pleasure, her skin glistening with sweat. her eyes hooded with lust, hanni looked down at herself and attentively watched as you played with her. your fingers swimming in her slick, navigating in her folds the way a skilled sailor would the vast ocean, it was hypnotizing, and she realized how this was probably the way you got yourself off on a regular day, and she couldn’t help but moan at both the thought and the sensation. 

you made her feel good, you made her feel happy, loved. you always did.

amidst the chaos that was her messy bed, the setting somehow looked better than every piece of artwork you’d ever seen combined. the bed creaked ever so slightly, and she looked and sounded so beautiful, especially with the way the sun set directly on her parted lips at that moment. 

you were certain that your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“i love you so much, hanni.” you softly said, kissing the back of her ear whilst you kept fingering her. she couldn’t form proper words, so she simply tightened her grip on your hand more, as a way to say it back.

then, once you picked up a stable pace for a few minutes, her back arched against you, her breathing getting heavier, practically panting. her hand’s grip on yours getting tighter, you felt her hot breath hit your neck once she settled her head into the crook of it.

“y/n— baby i think i’m- i’m— mmh—“

that was the moment she reached climax, letting out a long and loud moan as she rode out her orgasm, bucking her hips against your hand before smashing her lips onto yours. quietly, she let a few i love yous slip out of her mouth between kisses, her hand resting on your head, fingers intertwined with your soft hair. 

you particularly made sure to say it back to her every time.

you pulled out your fingers and took your hand out of her pants. still coming down from her high, she smiled at you with tired eyes and kissed your cheek. you smiled back, looking at her lovingly.

“d-did i do okay?” 

she giggled, “..are you seriously asking me that? do you not see me right now?” 

you raised your eyebrows, playful, “for all i know you were faking it.”

“yeah, actually.. i was faking it, especially with how wet i was from the whole thing. aren’t i such a good actor y/n? it’s almost like i legitimately came really hard—”

“shut up.” you elbowed her, laughing. she gave you a cheeky smile before she got up from the bed, grabbed a pair of new underwear from her drawer and opened the bedroom door, heading straight towards the living room to pet her dogs after changing. 

“hey y/n?”

“hm?”

“…wanna bake brownies in a bit?” 

“uhm.. yes? what kind of question is that?? let me just go wash my hands first.” you replied, getting up and walking towards the bathroom before adding on, “unless you wanna eat very unsanitary cum-buttered brownies, of course—“

you heard her contagious laugh from across the hallway, making you smile to yourself, “you’re fucking disgusting— go wash your hands, you weirdo!”

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

[matrixbearer2024]

Idea for your "get off my screen" series! So what if the reader is like visiting someone/housesitting for someone and they have a radio that reader is listening to because she loves it, and they (of course) bring their phone and laptop to stay talking to vox, and when they connect him to the TV in the living room and the first thing he sees is the radio and he's like "get that thing the fuck away from you" and the readers like "um, no? I love it. I was thinking about getting one for my room" and he's like "absolutely not"

Get That Shit Off My Screen!

A/N: Oh this is fucking golden, I absolutely need to write this to displace the absolute angsty unit of an interlude I wrote hahahaha- I'll be finishing the requested interludes before I continue with the story. I ended up posting the continuation so y'all could already get down to brainstorming and scheming on lore ideas XD

A/N: Vox is kind of a pissy little rat here and we just annoy him a bunch more too lololol Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy the story and as always- Happy Reading!

You have seriously got to stop accepting favors from friends.

Because that was how you found yourself walking down the sidewalk on the way to go housesitting.

Just a week ago you'd had to impromptu take care of a little puppy.

And consequently placate a certain jealous TV demon-

And now you were asked to carry another favor as well.

Well, more like that friend practically begged you to accept.

You slightly readjusted the backpack you wore, it wasn't as light as hoped when you left your home.

Which, makes sense all things considered.

After all, it had your devices in there along with the necessities.

If you had to end up bored today you were going to rope in a certain annoying overlord just to avoid it.

Fumbling with the keys a bit, you opened the door to the house and entered before locking it behind you.

A habit you'd grown up with after your parents constantly reminded you to do so.

The home was... pretty big, especially compared to the place you were currently living in.

Tossing your bag onto the living room couch, you explored the rest of the home for a bit before returning.

"Gonna be housesitting today, mind if I connect you to the TV?"

When he simply replied with a thumbs up emoji, you figured he wasn't doing anything and just connected your laptop to the living room television again.

He didn't appear right away though, so you decided to look around the home once more.

It was filled with a lot of old stuff, reminiscent of a time gone by.

Which, kind of makes sense since it was the house of your friend's grandma that you were watching over for the day.

Ooooh- what's this thing?

"Hey doll sorry I'm late, got a bit delayed from a meeting and- GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THAT!"

You jumped at suddenly hearing Vox's words from the TV, when did he even get here?!

You had half a mind to yell at him for scaring you but you were far too curious about this old boxy object you found.

"Whaaa??? Why? What even is this?"

You asked while messing with the knobs, you doubted it even worked when it randomly started to play a song.

Oh.

OH.

So that's why he was so pissed.

And so you decided to troll with your digital companion as he often did to you.

"Woaaah, I've never seen one of these old radios before-"

"I'm surprised that one still works, it's an obsolete piece of fucking junk!"

Vox didn't really have time to scan the new surroundings when he'd connected to your devices and consequently the TV.

It didn't help either that the first thing he noticed was that you hunched over messing with something.

Only for him to find out moments later that it was a fucking radio.

The same old shit he'd been busy trying to wipe off the face of hell ever since his rival's return.

And the fact you were starting to get interested in it made his blood boil.

You held back a snicker seeing Vox just angrily glare at the old relic as it continued to play tunes.

You were aware of his entire vendetta against Alastor-

Or well, with as much as he'd tell you when he ranted.

But the fact something so simple as just a reminder set him off?

"Well I think it's niche, maybe I should get one of these for my room-"

"NO- zzZzzZsT THE FU- zZzST -CK YO- ZzZZsT -U AREN'T!"

You couldn't hold the laughs back this time, doubling over when Vox started buffering and yelling about how stupid and old the radio was.

He didn't even seem to notice that you were just pulling his leg.

Something this old wouldn't fit into your home, besides-

You had a new Bluetooth speaker with loads better audio quality.

This old thing was just a nice reminder of times long ago.

Times you didn't even live in.

"Finnneeeee, fine fine you pissbaby. I won't get one. Still think it's pretty funky though."

You said as you plopped down on the couch, noticing Vox's face was still glitching and fizzing on the TV screen.

He wasn't even looking at you and instead was glaring off to the side.

Was he that upset about the radio?

Really??

"Dude, you know as much as I do how ancient that stuff is. If I did end up getting one it would be because someone dumped it on me. I like looking at the past but not collecting relics."

Vox still didn't react and you raised an eyebrow.

Silent treatment huh?

Okay, you could play his game.

"Anyway, I was looking up stuff from around the decade you told me you died."

He finally looked back to you with a raised eyebrow.

Bingo.

"And I ended up finding this serial murder case that's still unsolved to this day."

Vox only furrowed his eyebrows, he wasn't in hell for murder.

As far as he was concerned, it was probably because he was a lying and cheating businessman.

As you continued to talk more about the details of the case, it started to paint a more familiar picture.

And as entertaining as it was to watch you discuss with him something interesting you found-

Vox was not fond of you talking about Alastor so avidly.

Geez, if only you'd look that cute talking about him like that.

What-

What?

That was probably the envy talking.

"Doll, I know you were probably trying to cheer me up but I'm kind of certain that's one of Alastor's cases."

"Huh? Why do you say that?"

"The old fuck's a cannibal. I knew for sure it was him when you mentioned the bodies were found cut up like a butchered pig."

At least Vox was talking to you again, even if he still looked more than peeved it was about his rival.

He actually looked more grumpy and pouty in your opinion-

But that was probably because you weren't seeing right.

"Well, why did you end up in hell then? I would've thought you'd be in for something just as horrible to be as powerful as you say you are."

Vox just sighed, he wasn't actually sure what got him dammed for eternity.

But he did a lot of bad things over the course of his life, so it was probably the accumulation of it all that had sent him into the inferno.

"What makes you ask dollface? Curious much?"

You just shrugged, shifting to lie down on the couch and just look up at the antique chandelier hanging above on the ceiling.

"Dunno, I just want to know more about you. I mean, I know enough- but I want to know more."

Vox could feel his screen heating up slightly in his chair.

Why did you have to be so damn cute-

The fact you wanted to know more about him, it made him feel... odd-

Well, a good odd.

He didn't really know what to do with himself.

"I'm not actually sure. I've been a businessman my whole life, probably the worst of the worst when it comes to principles but I haven't directly ever killed anyone if that's what you're guessing."

"Huh, makes me wonder if I'll end up in hell for the stunts I've pulled on other students too."

"The hacking? Or the blackmailing? Because I doubt either of those would actually send you down here."

"Oh come onnnn, I swear at this point I'll actually kill someone so I can guarantee I'd meet you."

You raised an eyebrow at the screen turning pink again.

Pfft, did he seriously get embarrassed by that?

A smile worked onto your face when Vox softly excused himself and disconnected from the TV.

Ha, cute.

[aprilthearcher]

me and you... were meant to be.

[remus lupin x f!reader] [platonic james potter x f!reader]

slytherin!reader (because i myself am one). use of (y/n) (though i tried my best to not overuse it)

angst, but happy ending. remus' insecurities get in the way of your fresh relationship. 3k words.

i haven't written for remus for a long, long time so i tried to do my best because i love him to pieces and recently i've been experiencing a remus lupin era so... here it is. also, that spell she uses to protect her home... i've no idea if it exists, i just liked it.

english is not my first language, so there could be some mistakes. pictures are not mine.

thank you for reading!

i wrote this while listening to "Don't Delete the Kisses" by Wolf Alice and "What if I Love You" by Gatlin.

“What if you and I… What if we were never meant to be?”

“What are you saying, Remus?”

“I'm saying that I don't think we… I don't think it’s good for us to keep seeing each other.”

“But, but why? We are so good right now, we… I’m trying here, Remus, but I don't get it. Why would you do this?”

“I've just told you, we are not meant for each other. You… you des…” He stopped mid sentence. “I don't see you like that anymore, I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise.”

Now, on top of a bus that would drop her off a couple of blocks from her flat, she couldn’t recall a single moment in their short relationship that could’ve propelled something like this. They were good, really good. After dancing around each other for so long during their Hogwarts years, they had finally admitted their feelings one summer afternoon while looking at the sun go down and the moon rise up. Four months later, he was ending it. Salazar, could he have been high? She knew sometimes the boys would smoke those muggle herbs Marlene would bring them, overcharging them of course, but he had never said something so… heartbreaking under their influence. No, he couldn’t have been high, he would become even touchier when he’d smoke some, ignoring his friend’s presence and delighting in the passionate, even primal, effect they’d produce; the lightheaded feeling that allowed him to relax and run his fingers through her arms, her hands, her neck and jaw…

She pressed the palm of her hands against her eyes when they started to water for the fifth time that evening after leaving Dorcas’ apartment complex. Was he so desperate to get rid of her that he couldn’t even wait to do it at home? What would her great-grandmother think of her if she saw her like this? “Crying over a half-blood, a HALF-BREED, you are nothing but a blood traitor. You’ve tainted our legacy, you and your good-for-nothing parents, you are no more worthy than those mudbloods you hang round, affiliating yourself with muggles, living a life surrounded by them." Why did she keep caring about what she would think? She had never shared her views on blood purity and how any wizard or witch that wasn’t part of the Sacred Families would be undeserving of its magic. She hated people like her grandmother. She hated that the old hag had tried to drill these thoughts into her head since a very young age. She was glad she had died and she was glad her parents were nothing like their parents, so why was she remembering her now? Perhaps it was the fear of losing her entire friend group that made her sick mind resort to conjuring the old witch’s voice in her head.

She truly hoped for her great grandmother to be rolling in her grave at the sight of one of her descendants crying over a werewolf and the possibility of losing her entire friend group made up of blood traitors, half-bloods, and muggleborns. 

She knew they weren’t like that, that they wouldn’t isolate her for something like this. Merlin, they didn’t even know, at least until tonight, of their relationship! Though she was sure it wouldn’t take long for them to figure it out after how she had left in such an abrupt manner, without saying goodbye and barely making it to the door without the tears falling down her cheeks. She had left the task of explaining everything to Remus. 

“Lady, this is the last stop!” The bus driver called out from the front of the vehicle.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck Remus Lupin for breaking her heart, for making her cry and making her miss her bus stop. Fuck him for making her feel so in love she left her guard down, fuck him for assuring her that he could trust him. 

Although she had planned to take the muggle bus to get her mind off things and not get home immediately — for she was sure her lonely flat would make her feel worse, for she was sure there was one of Remus’ sweater idle placed on the back of an armchair she was hoping to return tonight after he’d accompanied her home —, she had not anticipated missing her stop and having to walk ten or so blocks home. It was not that she felt unsafe wandering through London this late, but she just felt emotionally exhausted.

She almost jogged all the way home, not wanting to encounter any trouble on her way home for she was not in the right state of mind for fighting anyone, muggle or not. Though, perhaps, the rush of adrenaline that would come from a brawl would bring her back to life, a little at least. 

She’d taken two steps into the hallway when she saw the light coming from her flat. Stopping on her tracks, she got her wand out of her leather holster strapped in her left shoulder and approached her door. Good thing she had opted to climb the stairs instead of apparating inside; if she were to be ambushed, she wouldn’t have had any time to prepare. 

With the whisper of an incantation the door opened slowly. For a moment, she forgot about Remus and the only thing on her mind was to find out who was inside her home. Her mind was reeling with ideas. Death eaters. 

Death eaters. Death eaters. Death eaters.

But how? She had secured the place with some, if not all, of the best protective spells. Dorcas had helped her set them up. The locks were unbreachable, as well as the magical barriers protecting the walls from all sides, there were only two people that could apparate inside, her and…

“Prongs?”

She had chosen James as the only other person to be able to apparate inside her home. The spell was infallible and it had taken them several months of hard work, but it was worth it since not even someone who had induced the polyjuice potion, impersonating James, could get in. 

She saw him pacing round her living room, his fingers twirling his wand in the air, a trick she had seen muggle musicians do when playing the drums. He stopped once he saw her, quickly coming to wrap one arm around her frame while the other pushed the door closed. The hiss of the invisible sigils increased for a second.

“I thought something had happened to you on the way home, you took so long. Why did you take so long? I was worried sick.”

“Merlin, James, the baby is making you act just like your mother.”

“Shut up, I was genuinely worried. Was about to go searching for you.”

“I took the bus but missed my stop, so I had to walk.”

He nodded, relaxing a bit now that he saw his best friend was okay. Physically, at least. Her emotions were still all over the place, her heart had calmed down and decided to break again after realising there were no intruders in her home. 

“What happened back then, dove? With Remus? You, you just run away.”

“I think you know what happened, James.” She said, while hanging her coat in the rack and taking out her boots. She knew he knew, he wouldn’t have left Dorcas’ flat without an explanation from Remus after seeing her so distressed.

James sighed. Even though her own feelings were messed up, she could still realise this was a difficult position for James, and the rest of them, to be in. (Y/N) and James had been friends since they were young, younger than now at least, knowing each other because their parents introduced them the summer before beginning their third year at Hogwarts. She was a Slytherin thus making it hard for the boy to trust her, even at that age, but one stern look from his mother Euphemia had the boy overcoming his prejudice against her in a heartbeat. It had been quite impossible to separate them since then, which meant introducing her to the rest of his friends. Sirius had been apprehensive, Peter quite terrified… Remus… Remus had been intrigued, you could say. All of his previous interactions with Slytherins hadn’t been pleasing, but this was the girl he had Transfiguration with, who would raise her hand faster than anyone and answer correctly, getting all the spells right on her first try. This was the girl he had glanced at maybe once — he definitely did more than glance — at the library, carrying way too many books for her on one hand while the other, holding her wand, pointed to the floating pile of heavier tomes behind her. 

Remus is also one of his best friends, the four of them are like brothers. She couldn’t deny she was quite surprised to see James here, attempting to comfort her instead of him.

He still had his arm around her shoulders when they started to walk towards the kitchen. If James intended to stay then she was in dire need of some tea to pass the bad taste the fight had left in her mouth. He would want to hear her side of the story. Turning to light up the room, she saw pints of red covering James’ knuckles. She disengaged from his hug, positioning her body in front of his then grabbed his hand, harshly. She heard him wince. His eyes scrunched and his lips closed in a thin line, she knew. He knew that she knew.

“Did any of his teeth fall out?” She pressed her fingers to his bloodied knuckles.

“No, but… Ow! Would you stop that?” He tried to release his hand from his grasp, she tightened her hold.

“I don’t need you defending me, James.”

“You’re my best friend, of course I’ll…”

“He’s your best friend too!” She yelled. Salazar, she was pathetic. Defending the boy who crushed her heart no more than two hours ago. “I don’t want you fighting my battles for me, James, especially when it’s against one of your friends.”

“I’m sorry, dove, you are like a sister to me. I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s not like he did anything wrong though. He… he is allowed to change his mind. I - I was the one to get too caught up. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have…”

“I didn’t punch him because he ‘changed his mind’, dove. I punched him because he was lying about that.”

“James…”

“No, no, listen. Listen to me.” He grabbed her face, wiping the new set of tears that had begun to cascade down her face. “I know Remus and I know that he loves you, that he’s loved you since you jinxed one of the fourth years after bad mouthing Peter, perhaps even before that. He’s not telling the truth and he’s pushing you away because he’s terrified of how much he loves you. That’s why I hit him, thought it’d make him realise he cannot lose you.”

“Salazar, you really are your mother.” James laughs at your comment, heart soaring with desperation at the new turn of events. He knew something more was going on with Remus and (Y/N) as of the last couple of months because James Potter was observant and this new bond didn’t look like the shy glances they’d throw from across the Hall during their Hogwarts’ years. These were slow, delicate touches; soft smiles and bodies that would look to be close to each other every chance they got. So he wanted nothing more than for his friends to be happy; although he should’ve seen Remus’ self-sabotaging tendencies coming because he knew all of his friends like the back of his hand, he didn’t. He blamed the uprising war for that. He blamed it for everything, from clouding Remus’ judgement more than ever to forcing him and Lily, and consequently the rest of the Order, to be constantly on the lookout for danger. None of them had had a good night’s sleep for months now. 

“You should still apologise, you’ve been friends for years and I…” 

Rapid, loud knocks against her front door interrupted (Y/N). She and James looked at each other, he had a hunch of who it might be but getting his wand at the ready didn’t hurt. (Y/N) had the same idea, she started to move towards the entrance with her arm up, wand always pointing at the door.

“Who is it?” The banging stopped.

“It’s … It’s me, Rem - Remus. I - I.” She could hear him shuffling outside, as if he were moving round the place, jumping from one foot to another; he probably was. “It's really me, I - I got you that black leather holster for your wand as a gift. You bought the rug on your bedroom floor in a flea market last month, you said it reminded you of the one you had back home. Your favourite colour is red and you hated yourself for it because James always joked how you should’ve been in…”

“Gryffindor.” By the time Remus had been at the end of his ranting, she had unlocked the door and opened it all the way, hitting the rag on the way. 

“Yeah, but green always looked better on you.” Remus looked at her face, he could see the trail of black makeup going from her eyes to her chin. She must’ve felt his stare because in a swift movement she got rid of the marks, or at least she tried to. It smudged a bit more than he knew she would’ve preferred. 

“You’ve got blood on your face.” She said.

“I know, I - I tripped down the…” Remus tried to explain while cleaning the blood with the back of his sweater. She could’ve told him she’ll clean it up for him with the touch of a finger. She didn’t.

“You don’t have to cover for him, I know James punched you.”

“Damn right I did.” She heard from inside the flat. James was leaning against the arch that separated the living room from the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest and a look that must’ve frightened Remus because of how he bent his head down and then looked up again, nodding as to show he’d understood his lesson. (Y/N) stared at James with an eyebrow raised, he sighed and then said: “I’m going to get Lily back at Dorcas’. See you, dove.” With a crack in the air, James disappeared.

“What I said, earlier, it - it wasn’t true.” Remus began once they had settled on her velvet green sofa. She had found it on the street, a bit tattered but nothing magic couldn’t repair. “I’m an idiot but I’m just so scared. So frightened that.. that what I - what I am will put a higher target behind your back. I’m a half-breed, a monster, and people like me … No, no let me finish. People like me don’t deserve someone as pure as you so I thought…”

“You thought pushing me away, breaking my heart, would solve any of that?”

“Well, yes! If I’m not putting you in danger during the full moon, then I’m putting you in danger because they - they won’t hesitate to come after you if you are with me.”

“You bloody git. They are after all of us, even if we aren’t together, they’ll still come after me…”

“You don’t know that.”

“What are you saying, Remus? I’m a blood traitor in their eyes, my best friend is a muggleborn. My own great-grandmother would put me on the ground if she could see me right now so don’t try to make me understand you with this bullshit. You may be scared of love, of loving me, but I’m not. I love you and I’ve loved you for so long that I’m not going to give you up, not at times like this. I don’t care that you’re a werewolf, I’ve never cared. And I get that it’s hard for you, that you feel guilty when we try to alleviate your pain, but I’m fucking exhausted that you think I won’t be able to handle it, to handle you and your transformations.” She inched her face closer to his, a hand moving up to cradle his jaw while the other grabbed his hand. “I chose to be with you, knowing full well that it wouldn’t be easy and not because you’re a werewolf but because you are an insufferable arsehole who doesn’t let people in, who is afraid of hurting others while not realising that he’s still hurting them when he pushes them away.”

He didn’t respond, he just leaned further on the touch of her hand. It grounded him. How was he able to think, even for a second, that he would survive without her light-feathered touch, without her hands running through his hair or his arms that would give him goosebumps?

“I thought that you had grown tired of me or that you had never loved me the way I loved you. That you’d thought I wasn’t loyal to the Order, that somehow I would…”

“No, no, no. I’d never, (Y/N), truly, I’d never. I got lost, I- I thought someday you would realise how you had ruined your life by spending it alongside… me. You could do so much better, and yet…”

“I’m sure there are men out there, wizards or not, that are less frightened at the idea of love than you are, Remus. But they’re surely not you, because they’re not as funny, or smart, or witty, or sensible, or great as you. I’d probably get bored of them within the hour and then I’d be lost because you wouldn’t be beside me. The only man I want is you. No one else. You drill that into your head or next time you try to pull a stunt like this I’ll kill you.”

“Got it.” He whispered before leaning in even closer, his lips barely brushing hers. He wanted to be sure she was okay with this; he wanted to be absolutely sure he hadn’t completely messed up their relationship but for that he needed her to confirm it; to accept his apology. She did, sealing their lips desperately, trying to transmit everything she had just said but with a kiss. She had been so terrified that the only way to have him in her life would be through meetings to discuss missions and war plans; that she would never get to touch him, to kiss him, to hold him after a rough full moon again. “You wouldn’t actually kill me, right?” 

“No, but I would tell James to punch ten times harder.”

“Please don’t, he’s got a sick hook.”

“Then you better behave.”

She kissed him again, deeper this time. Their lips moved synchronised, familiar with each other; her hands travelled all the way up to his hair while his circled around her waist, bringing her closer. Chest against chest, with her legs propped up into his lap, they stayed like that for a long time before Remus laid her down on the sofa.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Surprise! ~ KSM

⤜WORD COUNT: 1.4K

⤜GENRE: fluffy, stressed out Seungmin finally getting a break, poor baby just needs his partner, angst (I guess) with a fluffy ending, cute, THIS is the song used xx

⤜PAIRING:  Seungmin x GN!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - January 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

A/N: So I wrote this as a non!Idol piece as I thought it would be a lot more fun to write, I really hope that’s okay, if not feel free to give me a message and I can work on fixing it for you 

The car came to a halt and your boyfriend let out a small whimper, all morning you had been overly secretive about something. For the first time, in a long time, he'd managed to get a weekend off from work and you'd decided that it was going to be your chance to do something nice for him. Something no one else in the world could have, well, maybe some people but not many.

"Is the blindfold really necessary?" He quipped with a slight laugh behind his voice, you glanced over at him as you parked up and made sure he had no idea where he was.

Ever since he'd woken up that morning you'd been dropping hints about what the two of you were going to be doing today but he seemed oblivious to them all right now. It started with the music you'd had on while he woke up, a little day6 music to start the day off with, but he'd brushed it off as nothing since you worked for the band and loved their music almost as much as he did. Breakfast that morning had been pancakes in the shapes of the Day6 logo but you weren't exactly skilled in pancake making so they mostly ended up looking like a normal pancake with a tail.

"Yes, this is a surprise. Remember?" You let out a small laugh and got out of the car, Seungmin shook his head from inside of the vehicle. Today was going to be special for Seungmin since you knew how stressed out he'd been lately.

Stressed to the point where he'd missed a few dates with you, something you were mad about when it first happened but when you saw how much work was putting on his plate you began to let them slide. It must not have been easy working in the stock market business, he'd come home and pass out in bed but some nights it wasn't even the bed, it was the sofa. 

 Last week had been the final straw for you. It was the tenth time you'd woken up in the morning to find your boyfriend hadn't even been able to make it to the bedroom before passing out on the sofa sleeping there instead of in a warm bed with you and you were finally doing something about it.

"Why can't you just tell me what we're doing?" Your boyfriend quizzed as you helped him out of the car and began walking him in the direction of the arena doors, the guards nodding and winking at you. Everyone knew the plan and seemed to be sticking to it.

The band you worked for had a gig later tonight so right now they were practising inside of the arena, well, they would be and you knew how badly Seungmin had wanted to go to a concert for years now and you were finally going to make it happen.

"You'll see, you have to trust me." You whined, slowly leading him through the hallways and down toward the main stage as he complained the whole time - jokingly of course. Seungmin trusted you to the moon and back, maybe even more but he did, if you said he was going to enjoy it then he knew he was going to.

"Are you ready?" You whispered from behind him, his back tingling as your breath caught in his ear.

All morning he'd been trying to guess what it was that you could possibly be doing for him, he ruled the beach out since the forecast was supposed to rain all day and he knew he wasn't at his parents since you'd driven too long for that. It was a little surprising that you wanted to do anything today, he knew you had work later and assumed you wanted to relax until then but you'd insisted on taking him out.

"More than ever!" He yelled out, buzzing with excitement as you slowly began to remove the blindfold from his eyes, Drums started to play and instantly he recognised the song and Seungmin's eyes flew to you, this was what you'd been planning?!

"What?!" His voice cracked, going up in pitch as you giggled a little, the music playing louder as the boys began to sing to you both. Seungmin's head spun around so fast to face the boys you were afraid it was going to come off his shoulders.

"Your own private concert." You whispered to him, smiling as you watched your boyfriend's face lighting up the whole time he sang along to the song. The whole place was empty besides you and Seungmin, and a few guards were spotted around the floor cleaning up and making sure everything was prepped for later. 

"It's hard, each day is the same. I wanna fling everything away, and just play. Don't stop me, I'm going out." You both sang along, swaying side to side the whole day, YoungK winking at you as he continued to sing.

"This must have taken a lot of persuading," Seungmin told you as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, swaying with you on the spot his entire body relaxing as he let himself feel the music and for the first time in months he felt at peace.

"Nah, YoungK was pretty happy to do it." You explained, leaning your head into your boyfriend's chest as you watched the members. The truth was, it had taken a lot of convincing and you might have had to give up some of your holiday days to sway it with your boss but all of it was worth it as long as it helped Seungmin unwind. Besides, the members had seemed 100% behind you when you'd explained the reasonings behind the mini concert and they were all excited to meet Seungmin since you hardly ever stopped talking about him.

"I know it's not the best way to relax...but I thought you might enjoy it." You were starting to feel a little doubt about whether or not he might have liked this. It was his first day off in a while, what if he'd wanted to stay inside? 

"Yn, this is perfect." He hushed out, your whole body relaxing as you heard him and you smiled, cuddling into his chest as the next song started to play.

"I love you," He whispered, placing a gentle and soft kiss on your jawline, your whole body heating up at the action earning a chuckle from the boys as they continued to sing.

"I can't believe you did that for me," Seungmin was still buzzing after the mini-setlist the members had performed and you giggled a little at him. Everything that had stressed him seemed to be wiped from his brain tonight,

"I'll do anything for you, you know that Sungie." You ran your hand over his cheek and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"A surprise like this needs a proper thank you," He told you with a giant grin on his face, you giggled a little excited to see what he had up his sleeve for you.

"Oh? Like what?" You ran your hands over his chest, his eyes on you the whole time as the grin he was plastering across his face slowly turned into a smirk,

"Oh I can't tell you that, it has to be a surprise," He chuckled evilly making you curse him out, gently slapping against his chest in protest.

"Seungmin, you can't." You groaned, shaking your head at him, Seungmin chuckled even more though. He knew how much you hated surprises and he was planning on doing it all week long next week.

"I have a week off next week, I can surprise you all week long."

"A whole week?!" You squealed out, your hands clutching his shirt as he laughed at you, it was cute to see you looking so excited. The week off had been for you, he knew he'd been working so much he was missing important dates and time with you. Something he was going to make up for for the rest of his life. There was no excuse for missing dates.

"I took time off, I've missed too many dates with you and I'm going to make up for it."

"O-Oh, I can't wait." You giggled, as he kissed the top of your head before taking your hand in his and going to meet the members who had told you to go and meet them back stage.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @felixismybf @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @xakx @aurora115 @sleepb @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @kpopmenace143 @minhosify

[astronomoney]

bookends, bestfriends, deadends

Pairing + WC: Jason Grace x reader, 1.6k Warnings: slow burn, once again and as always with my love Jason this is NOT canon-compliant, Jason may be a tiny bit ooc but I tired Summary: In the months between saving Hera and setting sail for New Rome, Jason finds himself making a friend Authors note: ok, y’all, here’s the deal; I took a nap and woke up with an idea, so I started writing; then I realized I needed set up, so I wrote this. Now I have a full fic that doesn’t include my original idea, so I will have to make pt: 2, but at least it’s already almost all the way written

Camp was far too busy this year; even for the off-season, it felt like there were campers everywhere. With all the bustle, it was hard to find a moment of peace. That’s why you’d taken to the woods that day. Following the path you’d walked a million times to a little outcrop of ruins not far from the beach, deep enough to not be disturbed. You’d taken a thick blanket and draped it over a vaguely couch-shaped block of stone ages ago to use as a reading nook. It was calm and peaceful and empty, usually.

This time, when you got close enough to see your little piece of peace, there was already someone there. A blonde boy with a scar on his lip sitting on your faux couch and squinting at the book in his hand. Jason Grace. Of course, you knew who he was, everyone knew of him and Piper and Leo, all working to get ready for the next great prophecy. 

Sneaking up on a former Roman soldier didn’t seem like the best plan, so you’d spoken out. “Guess this place isn’t so secret after all,” geez, what an opener.

Jason looked up with a start and got to his feet before you could say anything else. “Hi, hey, sorry, is this your spot? I wasn’t sure who’s it was, so I stayed to read some. I can go.” 

“Oh no, please, you don’t have to,” you were quick to put up your hands and stop him from leaving. You two hadn’t necessarily talked before, but he had always seemed nice at meals and campfires, if not a little awkward. “You were here first. I can leave if you want to be alone.”

Jason paused, it seemed he was actually taking you in now, noticing the book in your hand, Don Quixote as opposed to the copy of War and Peace he held. “I don’t mind company,” he offered you a small nervous smile, it was so pure you had to just stare at it for a second before responding. 

“Neither would I,” you finally said, returning the smile. You walked over and sat down tucking your legs under you and leaving plenty of room for Jason to sit on the other side. 

He joined and read next to you for what felt like both hours and minutes. Two days later, you had beaten him there, so when he arrived, you smiled and scooted to the left, giving him room again on your right. Over the next month, you crossed paths at the ruins what must have been a dozen times. There was never much conversation; it was more of a silent agreement to enjoy each other’s company, and each day, the distance between your shoulders seemed to get ever so slightly smaller. 

After a while, you got comfortable being directly next to him. Your shoulders would brush each time Jason moved to turn the page, and you couldn't help but notice how warm and strong he was. Silent meetings became small discussions about your current read, which turned into talks about other books you’d recommend to each other, which eventually morphed into a solid friendship. You would invite him to eat with your cabin since he had no one else at his. He would update you on the progress of the ship and the quest, you even got to know the other campers involved. 

Over the next few months, your lives became completely intertwined. You spent most of your day with each other. You watched him train for the quest, pushing his limits in sparring sessions until he was too exhausted to do much of anything. You would drag him out to your spot in the woods on days when he’d gotten so focused he had to be forced to take a break. You’d even tried to help him get some memories back. He would eat with you, read with you, help you with whatever chores you had around camp, anything to spend more time with together. 

He was the first person you turned to when you had something to say. He was the only one who remembered which campfire songs were your favorites or which books you’d reread depending on your mood. You cared about him so deeply, and you weren’t even sure how you’d come to feel so much in so little time. You truly hadn’t realized how much you needed him around you until you thought about just how soon he’d be leaving.

Of course, he would go back to Camp Jupiter; you knew that. This was never meant to be permanent; you were sure he missed his old life, his old friends, his old home. But part of you, somewhere in the deepest, most selfish part of your heart, wanted him to stay. You wanted him to forget about Rome, and Jupiter, and the quest. You wanted him to stay here with the strawberry fields and the books and the beach and with you. You wanted him to forget his sense of duty to a place that never cared and stay with someone who would give their whole heart away just to see him be happy for a moment longer. It was a feeling that filled you with guilt every time it crossed your mind.

It had occupied your thoughts nearly the entire day when Jason came to your cabin that evening. He knocked on the door until one of your siblings answered, and they called you over, muttering something about stupid and lovesick and so annoying that you hadn’t totally caught. 

You stepped onto the porch and closed the cabin door, leaving Jason and you alone in the dim light of the setting son. He was handsome as ever, a fact that you had resolved not to dwell on; plenty of people found their closest friends to be stunningly beautiful, it wasn’t a big deal. 

In fact, it was totally normal for someone to notice exactly when their best friend had skipped their usual haircut and started letting the military style grow or how their eyes exploded with color when the sun hit them just right. And, of course, there was no deeper reason for why you would pick up on every scrape or bruise he’d gotten from training. You were just hyper-observant, never mind that it only applied to one person.

As you took him in, scanning for the weariness you so often saw and he so often dismissed, you noticed more than anything how nervous he was. “What’s up?”

“Hey, um, I just wanted to, well.” He took a deep breath and let his words spill out a mile a minute. He told you that the Argo II would be ready to fly any day now. He told you how they were going to find Percy and how the first place they were going to check was New Rome. He brought up his old life, a life he wanted to remember, a life he thought he would remember when he got back there. These were all things you’d know and that filled you with dread, but you let him talk without interrupting. His rambling soon turned to a topic you haven’t expected, it turned to you. He told you how important you were to him, how much you’d helped him adjust to life at camp, and how much he appreciated everything you’d done for him. 

As he went on and on, you felt your heart begin to pound. The way he was talking lit a spark inside your gut, and the borderline desperation in his voice made you dare to hope. The emotion in his eyes made you think maybe, just maybe, he felt the same kind of connection that you felt with him. You could tell it was going somewhere important, somewhere that made him nervous and hopefully at the exact same time.

“I guess I just realized while we were planning in the bunker,” he began to close in on his point. “How important you are to me, and I can’t imagine what it’d be like without you. You can say no of course, it’s a lot to ask of anyone but,” he took another breath. “Do you want to come with me to New Rome?”

That wasn’t exactly what you were expecting. The funny feeling in your gut shifted and morphed, flashing through disappointment for a brief moment. As Jason waited for an answer, you had to process exactly what he’d asked. Going back to New Rome meant he was going back to his old life, a fact you were all too aware of, but now, maybe you didn’t have to lose him to it. He still wanted you by his side. He still wanted you to be a part of his life.

“Yes,” you finally replied. “Yes, of course, I’ll go,” you watch the relief wash over him, his nerves visibly dispersing as one of the widest smiles you’d ever seen etched itself across his face. 

In the next moment, he wrapped his arms around you. It was a bone-crushing hug that squeezed the air from your lungs, and you wrapped your own arms around him as tightly as you could. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he whispered to you as you tried to stop your heart from exploding. This wasn’t how you wanted it, but at least for now, this would be enough.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

There's pt1 :) part two is almost done already because I wrote most of it before I even started all this, but what I can say, the keyboard got away from me. let me know if any of y'all want to be tagged in pt2 or in my general Jason taglist.

[alastheswarmleaderhasescaped]

BIONICLE music fans, I need your help

Remember that I once wrote a funky BIONICLE Suite using themes from multiple movies/games etc., for an assignment? If not, it's here:

(here is the post on my dedicated music blog @transcriptions-of-unknown-music btw)

This suite is very dear to me: I scored top marks in my Arranging class with it, and later won a conducting audition with it. And now, in about a year or so, I will be getting the chance to perform it with a professional symphony orchestra. Like a full orchestra instead of the weird ensemble it was originally written for.

BUT

I need to reinstrumentate it, of course, but that also means that I can update it. The original assignment had a time limit of four minutes; this time I don't have that restriction, so I can basically do whatever the fuck I want.

And this is where I need the fandom's help.

I have a pretty solid base idea of what to do with it, but I want to put in as many nods to the width of BIONICLE as possible. The original suite was based on the music of the first three movies with motifs from mostly the MNOGs thrown in, because those are what mostly marked my personal BIONICLE experience, but BIONICLE is more than that. It's also the GBA games, the console games, the songs, the commercials, the online episodes, the later flash games, the Piraka rap, the singing squid, and so on. Which brings me to what I need you all for:

Please let me know your favourite BIONICLE music!

It could be literally anything; from an entire game soundtrack to just the drum rhythm during one specific section of a game. I'd love to know what BIONICLE music you love or is important to you!

What will I do with this information?

Currently I'm already working on gathering motifs and soundtracks into one musical book, transcribing them into notes and bringing them down to their core elements. This will serve as my vocabulary, of sorts: if I have a collection of themes at my disposal, it will be much easier to see if and how they fit together.

Here is an example of a piece from the Templar episodes that I 'collected': (it sounds off because it's MIDI, but what I did here was write down the actual notes so I can transcribe it for other musicians)

Please don't hesitate to let me know your favourite BIONICLE music (and also feel free to tell why a certain piece is important to you)! There is no time limit to this; you may always reblog or reply to this post, and my ask box is also open!

Hope you all can help me make this a real community thing, showing our Unity!

[ginnsbaker]

In Flames I Sleep Soundly (2/2)

Chapter Summary: The aftermath.

Word Count: 9k+

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Non-graphic depictions of violence

Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience, I hope... I don't know what I hope. I'm just grateful that you guys took the time to read this piece and leave comments in my inbox. I do have more to say later, but for now I just needed to post this. 

Let me know if you have some questions or clarifications. (yes, I wrote this sentence after sending a work email)

AO3 / Part One / Masterlist

--

Part Two

You’ve always thought that life is like a train ride. 

And as a passenger, you know only two things: the direction of the course and its scheduled stops. And so, it’s like this: get born into the world, take your first steps, go to elementary school, go to high school, go to college, get a job, get married, have children, have grandchildren, and then die in your sleep. If there’s an afterlife, perhaps get resurrected into a young version of you, and move into another train. And then begin another journey. 

But what the passenger doesn’t know is that a train can only move forward when it’s on its rails. And this is where the helplessness of every individual in that train becomes apparent. Your life–or at least how you want it to go–is not entirely in your hands.

For you, a single phone call managed to completely derail your train from its tracks. And then, as if still unsatisfied, it plucked you violently from it and left you on your own in the middle of nowhere.

You didn’t know where to go, only where you’ve been. Like a diamond blade that cuts through steel, it segmented your life into just two parts: Before and After.  

Before was going home to your wife after a tedious day, resting your head on her lap while she threads her fingers through your hair.

After is knowing those same delicate fingers raked through someone else’s tufts of blonde in throes of passion. 

Before was her telling you she loves you and feeling it to your bones.

After is her telling you she loves you and only hearing a lie.

Split in the middle, you presume you can simply choose to live in one or the other. 

***

“Love’s a fucking bitch.”

Inside your car, you’ve been quiet the whole time, just staring at the photos in Natasha’s phone. You stare at Wanda walking out of the theater, hand-in-hand with a tall, lanky man you don’t recognize. 

“His name is Victor Shade. Goes by ���Vision’. The only son of a high-profile neurosurgeon on the East Coast.” Natasha tells you, eyeing you closely.  

You brush your thumb against the image of the laughing woman in the picture. She wore your wife’s face and smile, but all you see is a stranger. 

“What are you going to do?” Natasha asks.

Briefly, you consider this could all just be a prank. Maybe Wanda is watching you fall apart right now, giggling in hiding because she got you this time. At least it’s the sort of cruelty you’d fight over for a day or maybe a week, and then laugh about in ten years.  

“Y/N?” Natasha tries again.

You finally look up at her and immediately hate the look of pity on your best friend’s face.  

“I don’t even know where I’m sleeping tonight.” you say, handing back her phone. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should talk to Wanda.”

The laugh that bubbles up your throat is nothing short of deranged. For almost a minute, you laugh into your steering wheel until tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. Natasha watches you with a worried expression, her hand hovering over your back hesitantly. She thinks about the beautiful person she met in kindergarten, the girl who gave her own blue crayon so Natasha could color the sky properly while she was left to color hers with a red one. It hurts her to witness the light snuff out of the person who was her own light in her darkest moments. And when your laughter subsides into muffled sobs, she cries with you. 

When you’re done, you systematically wipe the tears and snot off your face with the sleeve of your shirt. Natasha patiently waits for your next move.

“Did you get his address?” you ask with a surprisingly steady voice. 

“Yes, apparently it’s in one of the luxurious apartments near the university.” Natasha says as she texts you the exact address. 

“Good,” you say, then turn your attention to the empty roads ahead of you. 

You lied when you had implied to Natasha that you didn’t know what you’re going to do. 

***

A Victorian style of housing is unheard of in this part of New Jersey, but here you are, standing outside of one. His rental is on the second floor at the end of the street where a sports car is parked carelessly in its spacious garage–an august flex coming from a college kid. Wanda crosses your mind once again as you take in this grandiose lifestyle before you. Was it money that attracted her to him? You never pegged her for a gold-digger, but then again you also didn’t peg her for a cheating whore. You screw your eyes tightly shut at the unpleasant adjectives you now associate with your wife as you lose some of yourself in the process. There’s something frightening and unfamiliar threatening to consume your entire being, and you have no clue what to do with it. 

With a deep breath, you walk to his doorstep and ring the doorbell. A few moments later, you jerk in surprise as the door swings wide open towards you, the lock stile of the wooden panel narrowly missing your forehead.

“Sorry, I keep meaning to get that fixed and it’s easier to push,” A man in his early twenties with yellow blonde hair comes into sight. 

“Can I help you?” he asks. 

You have to tilt your head back slightly in order to meet his cerulean eyes. 

“You’re Vision?” you ask.

“Actually, it’s Victor Shade. But yes, everyone calls me Vision.”

“How old are you?” 

Vision shuffles his feet, uncertain if he should answer your question. It’s rhetorical of course, a question you didn’t mean to actually come out of your mouth. You could guess–but truthfully, you’d rather not now. 

“Who are you?”

“Y/N Maximoff.”

He raises his eyebrows quizzically, your name not ringing a bell.

“Wanda’s wife.” you supplement domineeringly, as if declaring it would stake your claim on her once and for all. He drops his gaze at the mention of your wife’s name, like a child that has been caught doing something he shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter that he’s at least half a foot taller than you are. He isn’t quite a man. Not to you.

“May I–May I come in?” you ask as politely as you could. 

After a second of doubt he smirks, and then says, “Sure.” You can sense the shift in his stance. He knows you’re onto him, and this is a showdown. Like any Alpha male scrambling to be on top of the food chain, he finds you to be an exciting piece of challenge. It makes you wonder if he was looking forward to this moment as much as you were dreading it.

You didn’t notice before that he’s barely covering his naked torso with a peacoat, and you try not to think about what brought on his current state. If by chance, you had just narrowly missed one of your wife’s regular visits.

Once you’re inside his apartment, you immediately scan your surroundings. There are papers and books scattered all over the floor. You can make out a thin trail of smoke coming from an unfinished cigarette in his living room, where the couch is covered by a tarpaulin smeared with ink and acrylic paint. 

On an easel beside it is a painting covered by a dirty towel you assume he’s been working on before being disrupted by your presence. “Can I look?” you point at it. 

“No. Sorry,” he says, before taking the painting from the easel and bringing it to his room. “It’s not done yet. An artist’s rule.”

You nod, and then noticing the only thing that he has organized, you say, “Nice vinyl collection.”

“Thanks.”

You stare at each other for long seconds. It feels ridiculous to expect an apology from him, but it’s something you think you deserved at the minimum. 

“So, tell me. How did you meet my wife?” you ask when it becomes apparent that he doesn’t have any intention to be an active participant in this meeting.

“Art History 101. I’m one of her–”

“Students.” You complete his sentence with a grimace. Somehow that just makes things more fucked up than they already are. Jesus fucking Christ, Wanda, you curse in thought. Yet in a twisted way, it also kind of makes sense now. What they have is the stuff of sexual fantasies–a goddamned kink show is what it is. You’d never guess she’s capable of this. 

“Yeah, and she was really knowledgeable in the subject. Not to mention, a natural teacher. Everybody in the class was awestruck by her.” Vision continues to talk about Wanda as though he’s talking about her to a person who didn’t know her down to the ground. You don’t need to be told how spectacular your wife is. You knew better than anyone. How dare he?

“How’s it going?” You cut him off before he could accidentally trigger something fatal inside of you.

He looks at you, bewildered at the random question. He waits for the punchline that never comes, and then chuckles, “It’s been swell.” 

“This is where you meet?” you ask.

“Yes.”

“And she likes it?” You mean this place that looks like it’s been ransacked ten times over.

“Well, I guess. She never complained.” he says, and then cowers at the dirty look you throw his way at his callous comment.

“Do you stay in all the time or do you go out too?” you ask.

“It depends. We actually like to drive to new places in and out of town. Especially in the first week since she’s never ridden a convertible.”

“She likes that? She likes…aimless drives with no particular destinations?” 

“Oh, yeah. More exciting than being stuck in a routine, I guess.” 

It’s an obvious jab at a lifestyle he thinks you saddled Wanda with. 

Heat rises to your cheeks and you walk closer to him. “Did you know that we’ve been married for five years? And before then together for six?”

That you have a dog. Plans to have kids in the future. Plans to retire in a beachfront property. The rest of your lives together. Does all that mean nothing? 

“I know,” Vision replies, his tone devoid of any sign that he might be sorry for fucking a married woman. “She also told me you asked to move here because of your banking aspirations.”

“My aspirations? You…talk about me?” You manage to blurt out incredulously. Vision shrugs at that, and actually regards you with mild concern when you start blinking rapidly behind your glasses. You can hear your heart hammering in your chest as all the blood in your body suddenly rushes to your head. 

He doesn’t answer “Would you like a drink?” 

“Yeah, why not.” you say and lean against the closest wall to you for support.

“I have water, orange juice…”

“Got anything stronger?” 

“I think I have some vodka left.” Vision mutters and then disappears into the kitchen. You take his absence as an opportunity to sneak into his bedroom. It’s smaller than you’ve imagined. A huge mirror is hanging across the foot of the bed and you instantly know what it’s for. 

Is this where it all happens? Where they happen? Did they watch themselves fuck? Did Wanda watch herself fuck someone who isn’t you and felt guilty about it? 

Did she think about you at all?

You sit on the mattress and stroke its silky sheets with shaking fingers. The bed is unmade, and you know there’s evidence on them if you try to look for it.

A framed painting peeking out from his dresser takes your attention. You walk over to it and pull it out of its hiding. 

Your eyes go round in recognition. It’s the painting Wanda asked you to retrieve in Soho. You turn the painting over and discover a small piece of paper plastered on it.

‘To Vision, the only secret people keep is immortality.’  - W

You crumple the note tightly in your fist. Suddenly, all of it becomes more real than you can envisage: on a Tuesday morning, you’re perched on the exact spot your wife’s been betraying you over and over. You can almost smell Wanda from where you’re sitting–can feel her damp, soft skin, can hear her little sighs as she catches her breath.

You’re not prepared for the overwhelming rage that consumes you next, as you abruptly get up and walk the small distance to the kitchen.

-

You come to thirty seconds later, to broken pieces of porcelain and an unconscious man lying on a puddle of blood on the floor.

Your first instinct is to call Natasha. She picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Nat,” you say in a rush. “I need your help. I-I didn’t mean to–”

“Hey, hey. Slow down. What happened?” 

“I’m at Vision’s. I did a horrible thing a-and I’m so sorry, Nat, I–”

“Focus, Y/N,” Natasha’s voice is eerily collected. “Is he still alive?”

You scramble to place your index and middle finger on his neck, and let out a sigh of relief once you find what you’re looking for.

“I got a pulse. Should I call 911?”

“Don’t, I’ll handle this. Just grab a towel and wrap it around something cold like frozen vegetables or ice, then apply it gently to the area of the injury.” Natasha says. 

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment to absorb the instruction. Getting a grasp of the situation has started to feel like an impossible task. 

“Did you hear what I say?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Natasha says. “You’ll be fine, okay? I’m on my way.”

And then she’s gone. And you’re left to deal with the vestiges of your crime. You have no idea how much longer Vision will have a pulse. You try to do what Natasha told you to, but you find yourself unable to move a limb, stuck in the loop of wanting him dead and wanting to do what is right. 

That is, until you hear the familiar tone of a message notification. It came from the rear pocket of Vision’s bloodstained cargo pants. You fall to the floor and dig out his phone. To unlock it, you take his cold hand and press his thumb against its screen. 

There’s a new voice message from a certain ‘W’ in his contacts.

Wanda.

You hit play.

“I hate to do this here,” Wanda’s voice is tremulous and you can easily tell that she’s been crying. “But this is the only way I can trust myself to go through with this decision. This needs to end. I can’t live like this. I’m tired of lying and hurting Y/N. She’s my family. Whether you believe it or not, she’s everything to me. I’m sorry. And I hope,” Wanda’s voice breaks on a choked sob. “I don’t know what I hope. I’m sorry.”

You listen to it again before making the decision to delete the message. You slip the device back into Vision’s pants.

Afterwards, you try to save his life.

***

Five Days After 

You wake up with a start. The clock on the nightstand reads 4:34 A.M. 

The dreams are more vivid now, and they have progressed to you jabbing a kitchen knife into Wanda’s chest as Vision takes her from behind. 

In reality, Wanda is lying half-naked beside you, snoring softly. She looks like the Wanda from Before, but your mind knows better. You want to trace her outline with your eyes and your lips, as you’ve done countless times whenever you’d wake up first. You want to kiss her temple and whisper how you love her even if she can’t hear you. You want, and want, and want. But you know what she’s done and with what little dignity you have left, you don’t fall into the trap of your remaining feelings for her. 

In reality, her ex-lover is in some hospital in New York with his family waiting for him to wake up.

The first two days were the hardest after finding out about your wife’s infidelity. Wanda could read you like an open book, but for some miracle she didn’t see past the calm demeanor you put forth. You still comment nice things about her cooking, hug her goodbye, kiss her good night. 

And then the nightmare starts all over again the minute Wanda leaves the house. Because when she’s near you, you don’t have to wonder where she is or who she’s with. You don’t wonder if she notices the empty seat in her classroom that used to belong to Vision. You don’t wonder if there are another pair of eyes like his, looking at her intrepidly with desire. The longer you carry on with your life as if nothing’s happened, the more you realize how much of your existence the past several months were built on lies. 

Maybe the wife next to you is no longer yours, but how do you reconcile that with the truth that you’re still hers? 

“Y/N?” you hear Wanda speak as you get up from bed. “Where are you going?”

Wand hugs the comforter to her more securely. You want to scoff at her question.

“Going out for a run.” you say after a beat. 

“Want me to come with?”

“No, thanks. Just go back to sleep.”

“Oh,” Wanda glances briefly at the time and then says, “It’s still too dark outside.”

You shrug. “So?”

“Could be dangerous, don’t you think?” 

“It’s Westview,” you repeat the same thing she said to you the first night she came home late without calling. The night in which she probably fucked him for the first time. “What’s the worst that could happen to me?”

“Be careful.” she acquiesces softly. “Do you want anything for breakfast?”

“No.” you say, grabbing your running gear from the dresser. 

Sparky tries to follow after you but you lock him in the bedroom with Wanda, and head out to change in the guest bedroom. 

-

There’s a slight itch at the back of your throat and you’ve stopped sweating just a while ago. Nevertheless, your tired legs refuse to stop their strides as you reach your tenth mile, and end up in a deserted farmhouse where Natasha is waiting for you.

“He still hasn’t woken up,” Natasha announces, handing you a bottle of ice water. “And while I got rid of the paintings, we’re not out of the woods yet.”

You take a swig from it like someone who’s been left in the desert for days, before leaving just enough of the water to pour over your head.

“What do you mean?” you ask after you recover from your run. 

“His family is suspicious. They refuse to believe it’s an accident. You should expect cops to visit your house soon. Don’t panic. I scrubbed that kid’s apartment, they won’t find any traces of you.”

“How many years are we looking at?”

“It’s too early to worry about that. We don’t even know if he’ll ever wake up.”

“If he doesn’t, then I’m a murder, Nat.” you say candidly, like you’ve already accepted the monster that you now see yourself to be. “If he does wake up, then it’s attempted murder. Again, how many years are we looking at?”

“Even if he dies, you’re not going to prison. I promise you.”

“I don’t need you to promise me anything. Just answer the question, Nat.”

“Up to twenty years in the state of New Jersey.”

It figures. Despite it being more than half the amount of years you’ve been alive, you deem it a short punishment for the years you’d be taking from the boy. In twenty years or less, you’d be stepping out of prison to live out the rest of your life, and Vision would still be six feet under and being mourned by his parents. 

You look down at your dirty shoes, and say, “I see.”

Natasha puts her hands on your shoulders and ducks her head, trying to meet your eyes. 

“You’re not going to prison. I won’t allow it.” 

You step back and out of her hold. 

“Now, about that other thing. I already contacted this lawyer who owes me big time. You’ll just have to pay 30% of her regular rate for the entire divorce process.”

You look at your best friend, considering it. You could give Natasha the go signal now to hire this lawyer, but in the end all you say is, “Thanks, Nat. For everything.” as you turn your back on her.

Natasha’s brows snap together. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” The word leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, knowing that for so many years ‘home’ was a person you felt the safest, a person who you could be with as you are. Wanda didn’t just cheat on you, she left you homeless. Home, in every sense, no longer exists.

“On foot?” 

“Yup.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Just get in the car, I’ll drive you.” 

But you’re already bouncing on your feet and moving in the other direction.

***

The next day, you sleep on your alarm again. It’s the second consecutive week you’re calling in sick late in the morning, and your immediate supervisor at work is understandably worried. He offers you take the rest of the week off, partly fearful for anyone at your branch catching whatever illness he assumes you have. Ironically, broken marriages are arguably endemic in this country. So perhaps, you really should stay away from people for a while. 

The blinds were shut, so that as little light as possible dances through the gaps between them. You are encouraged to stay in bed by the lack of sunlight, but as your mind starts to wake up, something about the gloominess of the room urges you out of bed. It’s a Monday, so that means Wanda should be gone already. If you’re missing work, then you could make use of the time to think about your next course of action.

You’re halfway down the stairs when the sound of Wanda’s voice reaches your ears, making you stop in your tracks. 

“This will be our little secret, okay? Y/N can’t find out.”

You nearly miss a ladder in your step at the implication of her words, only to see she’s speaking to your dog. 

Wanda is sitting in the living room with Sparky who is thoroughly enjoying the morsel of cheese she’s feeding him with. If this was any other day before, you’d already be walking towards her to give her a morning kiss, and she’d complain that you didn’t brush your teeth long enough. You’d impishly lock her in your arms while you blow puffs of breath on her face, and she’d squirm and fight you off until the both of you are nothing but a blur of two idiots happy and in love. 

“Wanda,” you blink at her in confusion. “Aren’t you late for your morning class?”

You watch Wanda’s eyes light up before she could spot you at the foot of the staircase. 

“Hey, sleepyhead. Actually, I quit my job.” Wanda declares, wide-eyed, her green pools swimming in starry fervor that you almost squint.

“Since when?” 

“Since today.” Wanda shrugs, and you can see that she was hoping for a different reaction and not the mild indifference that she’s currently getting from you. 

“Why? Did something happen?” You ask as you pick up Sparky and bring him to the kitchen for a proper meal. You hate to see Wanda give up something she seemed so passionate about. But then you recall her recent affair with a student, and there’s really no telling where that passion was truly directed at. 

“Honestly, I’ve been meaning to for some time.” she muses while playing with her wedding ring. You leave a generous amount of boiled chicken in his food tray, before moving to sit on the opposite end of the couch, conscious to put much distance between you and Wanda.

“For a while it looked like I finally found a worthwhile career that isn’t so ambitious,” Wanda says. You glower at her allusion that her prior dreams were too extravagant to come true. “But in the process, I also lost myself to it. I sort of left you behind, while you always brought me to every milestone of your achievement. And for that, I wanted to apologize.”

It’s the closest thing to a willing confession you’ll ever get from Wanda. Her quitting her position at the university is her way of burying this and moving on. Maybe it would’ve been better if you simply waited for your marriage to fix itself instead of snooping around for her secrets. You wish you weren’t so addicted to the truth. If grace exists in this world, then it comes in the form of ignorance to all of the things that bring so much suffering. 

You’re thinking of something to say, but you’re afraid that the dam inside you will burst if you open your mouth. 

“I’m sorry it took a while for me to really comprehend how I feel about you.”

“We’ve been married for years, Wanda,” you remind her in disbelief. “That’s something you should’ve comprehended fully before you decided to say yes to a life with me.” 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” she hurries to explain. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Please, Y/N, don’t get mad. Of course I know how I feel about you. I simply didn’t care to explore the magnitude of it, because I was complacent. And selfish.

“And when it comes down to it, you’re all that matters.” Wanda says and scoots closer to you. Then she takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. Your eyes close in their own accord, sighing at the contact. This might be the only thing that stops you from falling further apart. Even through the worst thing she's ever done to you, you crave to be this close to her. 

Wanda tries to read into your thoughts, and then says, “I know, I know. Acta non verba.”

“What?” you ask distractedly. 

“It’s what you always used to say back in college: deeds, not words. I’m going to show you. I’m going to make you feel how you make me feel.” she smiles at you tearily.

This isn’t how things are supposed to go. You’re to wait it out until the matter with Vision is resolved, and then serve her the divorce papers. She’s not supposed to declare her love for you and for those words to still have a substantial effect on you. 

“Wanda, I–” 

“Here,” Wanda retrieves a box from underneath the pillows and pushes them into your hands. “An advanced anniversary gift.” 

You try to stop your hands from shaking as you stare at the box in your lap. 

"Wanda, there's something we need to talk about."  

"Later, baby. Please, just open it." Wanda says and you try not to cringe at the pet name. 

You're about to pull the lid off when the doorbell rings and Sparky comes rushing to the door, yapping away. 

"I'll get it." You mumble and yank your hand from Wanda's grasp. The haze in your head instantly clears up the moment you’re no longer touching her. 

You open the door to two gentlemen in a dark suit. You remember Natasha’s warning yesterday, not really expecting them to show up this soon. 

"Wanda Maximoff?"

"No, I'm her wife, Y/N. Can I help you?"

The taller one with blonde hair makes the introduction with, "I'm Detective Rogers and this is Detective Barnes.”

You wipe your hands on your pajamas before shaking their hand and inviting them to come in.

“We're here to ask your wife a few questions about Victor Shade." Rogers says. 

You hesitantly glance back to Wanda who suddenly looks so stricken.

"They're here for you." you tell her. 

"Mrs. Maximoff, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rogers walks over to her and introduces himself and Barnes to her. 

He gets on straightaway with the questions. “Where were you last Tuesday afternoon?"

"I was at work, attending a departmental meeting. Did something happen? Is something wrong?"

The two men look at each other. Then the shorter one, Barnes, says, "Your former student, Mr. Shade was involved in a serious accident."

Wanda gawks at their news. "I–I was told he dropped out of school for reasons that were not disclosed to me and the class. I had no idea. My god, that's... That's terrible." 

“Yes, we’re aware. His family wanted the whole thing in the wraps in case it turned out to be more than just an accident.” Rogers explains with 

“Why would they–” Wanda tries to ask but Barnes interrupts her abruptly.

"Were you close?" he asks. 

He watches your wife as you do–closely, and observing every crease in her features that would give her away. But after months of lying, it's evident how she’s become so good at it. 

“Uh, no,” Wanda shakes her head and smiles through her absolute lie. A strange feeling creeps at you at having to see your wife display such confidence in front of authorities. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can share apart from how he performed in my class.”

Rogers and Barnes exchange even-handed looks again. Barnes glances at you briefly, before nodding at his partner to continue.

“Here’s the thing, Ma’m,” Rogers takes out a small notebook from his pocket and flips through it. “We found your name and contact in Mr. Shade’s call history. There are dozens of back and forth calls between you and him. This is actually the reason why we wanted to get in touch with you, because you’re the only one aside from a classmate of his that he’s spoken to for the entire semester. We want to know if he ever confided in you or if you knew someone he might have had a disagreement or altercation with.” 

You can feel Barnes studying you again, but you refuse to meet his gaze, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible with just a tinge of curiosity. 

Wanda remains unfazed and says, “We do communicate over the phone. But again, it’s strictly about his studies.”

“What about his studies?”

“He was having a hard time with his final project. It can be any form of art–a sculpture, a painting or maybe even a video, and they need to emulate their deepest and darkest desires to it. H-He needed my input every now and then.” 

“Sounds quite a challenge,” Rogers mutters as he writes on his pad. “And have you seen his painting?”

“No. I highly discourage them from showing me their works in progress. Why?”

It’s Barnes who answers her this time. “There was no painting found in his apartment.”

“Oh, he must have kept it someplace else then.” Wanda says, more to herself. 

They don’t comment on that. 

“When did you see him last?” Rogers again.

“Monday of last week. He came in late to class. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“May we ask why ‘it doesn’t matter’, Ma’m?��

“I no longer work at Westview Institute.”

“Really,” Rogers lifts an eyebrow, taken aback. “Since when?”

“This morning,” Wanda answers. “Personal reasons. You can talk to the dean for the details if you want.”

Rogers simply nods and scribbles on his pad some more.

“Have you ever been in his neighborhood? Ever been to his apartme–” He badgers on but you interrupt him. 

“I think that’s enough,” you say with authority. “I don’t see what other questions could be relevant to your investigation, but my wife’s told you everything she knows.” 

Barnes tries to protest but Rogers signals to him. 

“Very well. Thank you both for your time.” Rogers says as you usher him and Barnes to the door. 

“Wait!” Wanda yells, chest heaving. They both look over their shoulders, waiting. “Is he… is he okay?”

You catch the knowing smirk on Barnes, but it goes away as soon as Rogers warns him with a look. 

You weren’t expecting she’d ask about him despite their obvious suspicions on what kind of relationship they had. It hurts you in a way that you can’t even begin to describe.

“Last we’ve heard he’s stable. But I’m afraid he’s still in a coma. For all we know he might never wake up. But let’s hope for the best, shall we?” Rogers says, and then with a polite nod, leaves with Barnes in tow.

“I, uh, I forgot that I need to formally file a resignation letter.” Wanda says after you close the door behind them. She frantically grabs her purse, all the while avoiding your gaze. She’s not appropriately dressed to go outside, but you don’t point it out to her as you continue to act the part of the oblivious spouse.

***

Wanda returns home three hours later. A nostalgic smile finds its way to the corners of her mouth, when she spots the note you left for her on the fridge.

Went to the park with Sparky, it says. 

The post-it notes were a long-standing tradition. Sometimes you’d put one on her rearview mirror, something along the lines of “have a great day ahead, I love you” written, and Wanda would stick one on your lunchbox that said “don’t skip on the vegetables”. 

And while she blames herself for your recent aloofness, she was hoping to remediate it on your anniversary. She already booked plane tickets to Hawaii and made reservations at a 5-star hotel. Your boss and probably the entire staff of your branch already knows about it, when she filed a week of vacation leave on your behalf. And then she put all the documentation and details of the trip in the box she gave you this morning. 

She planned for everything, except the part where two cops showed up at her house to talk about Vision. Admittedly, he was another thing that was never a part of her plans. Wanda used to deride people who make mistakes, and when asked to explain, could only say ‘it just happened’. She’s heard it too many times in the past, mostly from her ex-boyfriends. 

It just happened. There’s no better way to put it should you ever find out what she did. She wasn’t lonely or unsatisfied or neglected. The only struggle she could think of about her marriage is thinking about what to have for dinner, because you neither complain nor you ever know what you’re in the mood for. 

In actual sense, her life was perfect. Because of you. Because you work for her happiness. The guilt eats at her everyday. But she knows what she’ll lose if she comes clean. And she can’t afford that. She’d rather confront her demons than risk losing you. She tells herself she can’t put you through this kind of pain.

Wanda pulls herself out of her thoughts. She needs to focus on you. She truly hopes Vision would make it, so he can go on to live his life and she’ll live hers with you. 

Wanda pads through the bathroom to run herself a bath. While waiting for the tub to fill, she pensively walks around the bedroom, noting how the room still smells of you. That’s when she  finds her gift on your work desk, next to your laptop. It’s still wrapped in a bow. Wanda frowns, wondering why you didn’t bother to open it. 

All of a sudden, your laptop makes a sound. Acting on impulse, Wanda unlocks your computer with your password–her birthday–and then opens your email account. 

There’s a new email from Natasha. The subject reads ‘in case you need them’.

An odd, overwhelming feeling consumes her, and without thinking, clicks on the email. 

Wanda waits for the message to load with its attachments and then–

She freezes and her stomach drops. 

***

About four pairs of couples attend your small dinner party that you have planned several weeks ago. Your boss, Scott Lang came with his wife and daughter all the way from New York just so he can, in his own words, ‘taste your wife’s famous Paprikash’. Wanda reminded you that you were hosting, and you had spent the rest of the day shopping for ingredients and red wine. She asked if you should cancel, but you figured an evening with seemingly elementary lives would do some good for the both of you. 

And you’re right. It’s not a nuisance as you thought it’d be when you were roped into it. In view of the recent episodes that no doubt defined the lowest point of your life, it feels nice to experience a little normalcy in your home. Your introverted nature makes you a disastrous host to these events, but Wanda is the opposite–she’s a natural at hospitality. She’d go around and entertain people, exchange gossip, and make them take shots. She’d dance in the middle of the room, with that devil-may-care attitude of hers, attracting people to her like moths to flame. But at the end of the night, she’d go home to you and sleep in your arms, because she’s yours. As you and Wanda grew older, you became a more exclusive sort of couple. But on rare occasions like this one, Wanda would put on the old party hat while you’d watch her be the best part of it.

The only problem right now is that Wanda went away. Physically, she’s in the receiving room with everyone, nodding and smiling at whatever warrants a nod and a smile, but you can tell that her mind is off somewhere faraway. 

“So, Y/N, what’s the first thing you wanna do in Maui aside from stuffing yourself with Poke bowls?” Scott asks. 

“I’m sorry?” You tilt your head at him.

“You know, the…” he starts doing what looks like a hula dance, but you shake her head, still not getting any of it. 

“Wait, what? Wanda hasn’t–” Scott looks at Wanda, in panic. “Oh, god, I didn’t mean to spoil it.”

Wanda’s been keeping to herself the entire night. And she’s been drinking a lot, the contents of her glass never quite reaching the bottom before it gets another refill.

“It’s fine, Scott.” Wanda says.

You look at Wanda expectantly, but she just studies her drink. Increasingly annoyed, Wanda downs the rest of her wine and then says, “I was planning to take us to Hawaii on our anniversary.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s pretty awesome.” you say.

Wanda huffs out a mirthless laugh, before standing up and telling everyone she’s going to take a nap.

“Good idea, dear. You’re looking puffy around the eyes.” Emma, another co-worker of yours that Wanda never really warmed up to, quips at her.

Wanda clenches her jaw tightly, but chooses not to engage.

You excuse yourself from the group and follow her out of the room. Wanda feels your presence behind her and spins to look at you for the first time tonight.

“I’m okay. Just go back to your friends.”

“They’re not my friends and you don’t look well.” you say.

“I just need a few minutes to myself,” Wanda offers you a smile, but it’s wobbly. “Please.”

You can’t deny her anything and you can’t stop caring about her. She heads to the stairs before you can utter another word. 

***

After Wanda sees the last of the pairs to the door, she finds you in the bedroom with all the lights off. She can only make out your silhouette–shoulders hunched and perfectly still, while you look out the window to watch the couple trade playful kisses before getting in their car and driving off into the distance. 

From your peripheral view, you watch Wanda approach you slowly, cautiously, like a hunter stalking its prey. It’s easy to guess that she already knows. She has her arms wrapped around herself as a defensive stance, probably afraid of what you might do to her. You nearly let out a laugh at the absurdity of it, because you don’t think you could ever hurt her the way she’s hurt you.

“What happened, Y/N?” she asks as she stops a few feet from where you’re standing. 

“What did you do? Did you cause his ‘accident’?” she carries on with the questions despite your refusal to even acknowledge her existence. 

“Y/N?” Her voice is frantic and presumptuously privileged. 

You don’t owe her anything. Especially answers. Anger burns in your chest like a candle–fragile but with the potential to burn an entire field. You imagined the many ways she’d beg you when you discover each other’s skeletons in the closet. You imagined she’d be on her knees, clinging at your ankles, insisting she loves you and that it will never, ever happen again. You imagined you’d kiss her for one last time, right before you’d tell her that you’re done. 

You hate yourself for allowing her to beat you to a confrontation. For coasting through this mess until Wanda takes the mantle of the interrogator herself. She gets to nag you with questions as if after weighing each other’s transgression, yours turned out to be worse than her cheating. 

“Did you hurt him? You did, didn’t you? Jesus, Y/N. Talk to me,” Wanda pleads, and then out of desperation she screams, “Tell me what you did!”

“No. You tell me what you did.” you whisper menacingly, finally letting go of the restraints you placed yourself in for her sake.

You abruptly turn on your heel in her direction, and then stalk towards her in quick, menacing strides. Wanda cowers, but doesn’t yield. She stands her ground like the courageous heroine of her own movie. 

“How you fucked him over and over and over! How you lied to me…” Your chin begins to tremble and your vision begins to blur. “...over and over and over.” 

“Y/N, please–” 

“Don’t. You don’t get to talk to me now.” 

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, the weight of her sin materializing in the form of your bared teeth and the vein pulsing in your neck and temple. 

“You didn’t think I’d know? I wouldn’t feel it? I knew from the very first night. Because I know you, Wanda. Every thought. Every look. Every fiber of your being. I know you and I fucking hate you!” You hear yourself yell, as real as the wetness you feel running down your cheeks. 

“I didn’t want to hurt him, I wanted to hurt you!” 

“Oh my god,” Wanda sobs out in anguish, cupping a hand around her mouth. “Y/N…”

There was a time, from long before you were married to her, when loving her broke your heart more than it made it whole. You didn’t think it’d happen again, but even if it did, you thought you’d find a way. You’d always find a way for Wanda.

You were happy together, weren’t you? Before this happened, she never gave any indication that she wasn’t. She made plans with you. Five-year, ten-year plans that meant she wanted to continue being with you. In return, you gave it everything you have and more. You turned the dreams into blueprints, and from blueprints into milestones. 

The arbitrary nature of her infidelity is what shocked you the most. It meant you couldn’t have done anything to prevent this. It wasn’t up to you. Love is a gamble and you’ve lost.

You’re both on the floor now. You, leaning against the side of the bed, and Wanda, hugging her knees to her chest as sobs continue to rack her body. 

When both of you can breathe again, it’s Wanda who breaks the silence. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

As much as you need to hear it, an apology now is just a drop in the ocean. Wanda can’t unfuck Vision. You can’t un-crack his skull. 

A thought suddenly occurs in your muddled brain.

“Was there anyone else aside from him?” you ask.

“No.”

“He must be really special then.”

She shakes her head furiously, denying it.

Against your better judgment, you ask the one thing that’s been plaguing you since you learned of her lover’s name. “Do you love him?”

“No,” Wanda mumbles without a second thought. “I thought I did, but no.” 

She didn’t love him. But it still kills you to know that it definitely crossed her mind that she might’ve felt something for someone else.

“Did you…” You stare intently at the ceiling, willing gravity to pull back the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “...ever love me?”

“I love you,” Wanda says, her voice low and trembling, though she dares to look you in the eye. “I know how fucked up that sounds to you right now. But I do, I love you, Y/N.”

“You know,” You wince at the way your voice falters. You’re so tired and dehydrated, and your head is starting to hurt. Your lips quirk up in a bitter half-smile. “You have such a lovely way of showing it.” 

Wanda lets her legs slide straight in front of her as she openly weeps into her hands. Under different circumstances you’d be out the door right this second, getting all her favorite snacks and a bouquet of flowers. You have loved her for so long. 

“You should’ve just killed me. I don’t see any difference. At least there’s no pain in being dead.” you say after some time.

“Baby, don’t say that.” Wanda hiccups, struggling to control the spasms in her chest. 

“You don’t get to call me that anymore. Even hearing you say my name makes me sick.”

Wanda looks away, like she’s been slapped.

“You can stay,” you say, and Wanda looks up at you with hope. “In this house. For as long as you want. But I’m leaving.”

“No. Don’t leave.”

But you’re already pulling your wedding ring off your finger even as she rushes to kiss you roughly. Wanda pours everything in this one kiss. She has played all the cards she’s dealt with, and this is her final, desperate move. 

As for you, you take it for what it is: a goodbye. It’s messy and salty, and everything anyone could ever hope for in a last kiss. When it’s over, Wanda ducks her head under your chin. She finds purchase in the area just above your heart, trying to commit to memory the rhythm of your heartbeat. 

You don’t have it in you to push her away, but you take the hand of hers that’s still cupping your face, and put the cold metal that once symbolized your commitment to her, in her fevered palm. And then very gently, you force her fingers to close around it. Albeit the numbness in your legs, you manage to push yourself up into a standing position and out of Wanda’s grasp. 

“This isn’t over. It can’t be over.” you hear Wanda speak, but you’re not sure if it’s to you or to herself. 

Out in the hallway, you examine the finger where your wedding ring had been. It’s going to take some time before its mark on your skin completely fades away.

***

A Week Later

“He’s awake.” 

Natasha sits across from you in the diner. She’s back in town to pick you up and drive you back to her condo in Manhattan, where you will be staying for a while until you find your own place. 

You swallow and take a breath, poking at your scrambled eggs. 

She’s wary of you–this zombie-esque version of you. And it’s not only apparent in your behavior, the gauntness of your cheek is more noticeable, and your clavicle more protruded. You look like you’ve aged ten years overnight in as little as two weeks. 

“He doesn’t remember anything.” she adds and this gets your attention.

“How convenient.” you say.

“Look, Y/N. You don’t need to act tough around me. Because I can see right through every mask you have on. You want me to prove it? Let me prove it.”

“Nat, just–”

“You’re more relieved to know that he’s woken up, than him not remembering anything. You’re compassionate to a fault. There can’t be a purer soul than yours.”

Your best friend’s impassioned speech puts a small but genuine smile on your face. Natasha does a little victory dance with imaginary pompoms, and the laughter comes easily to you. 

“I know I have no right to say this, nor do I really understand what you’re feeling right now. But, Y/N, someone will come along and take every broken piece of you back together. They will love you so hard, you’re gonna have to actually beg them to ease off.”

You humor her. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

In all honesty, it’s hard to think about the far-off future without the stinging reminder that Wanda is not in it. But as you sit idly in diner for a very late brunch–and might as well call it lunch–you realize that you’re not left entirely empty-handed. You have Natasha. You have the rest of your friends back in New York, although you haven’t talked to them much lately. You have your career that is getting a fresh start at a new company. Wanda has gotten custody of Sparky. As much as you love him, you have a feeling that she needs him more than you do. 

The point is, you’ve already seen the bottom of the sea, and it’s time to break the surface.

“As much as I hate your wife…soon-to-be ex-wife… or whatever,” Natasha shoots daggers at someone behind you. “She’s here to talk to you.” 

“Did she put you up to this?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“She called me to collect a favor, and this is the best bargain we managed. She’s not going to contact me anymore after this.” Natasha says, and then she gets up from her seat and takes her plate of bacon and eggs to enjoy at another table. 

You hear tentative footsteps approach the booth and brace yourself to face Wanda. 

Much to your chagrin, she looks as immaculate as ever in her parka over a simple white v-neck and high-waisted jeans, her glossy red hair cascading in perfect waves past her chest. 

“Hey,” she says and slides into the booth with you.

You take a huge bite of your Reuben sandwich. “Hi, Wanda.” 

“Sorry for cornering you like this. You rarely return my calls and it’s been almost impossible to match our schedules.”

You concentrate on chewing your food, trying to appear perfectly disinterested in what she’s saying. 

“Natasha told me you’re already talking to divorce lawyers,” Wanda pauses to catch your eye, and you see no traces of sharpness in them. Her green eyes are bright with determination. “If you’re decided that it’s what you really want, then I’ll give it to you. I’ll cooperate.”

You look at her from beneath your dark lashes. “Okay.” 

Wanda swallows nervously and interlocks her fingers on top of the table. You can’t explain it, but your eyes automatically search for the wedding band in her left hand.

It’s still there. 

“I, uh, got something for you.” she says. 

“No, thanks.” you say.

“But it’s yours.” she argues softly, digging for something in her jacket. You watch her pull out a ring box and place it in front of you.

“What’s this?”

“Your wedding ring.” She says matter-of-factly. 

“I don’t want–” 

“I don’t care. I’m giving it back to you, and I’m keeping mine. You can do whatever you like with it. But I can’t keep it for you.”

You consider it momentarily, what she’s asking of you. In hindsight, it makes sense that she wouldn’t want to hold onto the residual love you have for her that the ring represents. 

“Fine.” You reach for the small box and Wanda heaves a sigh. 

“So, you have your ring back, and I’ll sign the divorce papers when they’re ready.” Wanda recites mechanically, her voice thinning towards the end of her sentence, as if she’s not at all prepared for what she needs to say to you next. 

“Then, I’ll come for you.”

You almost spit out your coffee. Some of it actually dribbles past your lips and you quickly grab a napkin to wipe your mouth. She tenderly smiles at your little accident, finding your clumsiness endearing. 

You gape at her, unable to think of a response.

“I didn’t want to believe you when you told me that night that you hated me. But I guess that’s better than indifference.” Wanda’s smile turns into a sad amusement at herself. 

“I don’t hate you, Wanda,” It’s the truth. Even though anger is the only emotion you can process most days, you’ve only ever hated the way she makes you feel. 

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” she laments. “Thank you.”

You can tell she has more to say and you wait. 

“I’m not going to give up on you, Y/N. On us. What we have, and I’ve thought a lot about it, is something I’ll never find in another.” Wanda says, giving you a long, level look. 

“I’m not telling you this to get a reaction out of you. I know you’re not exactly thrilled at the idea of me pursuing you, but,” she falters, the first sign of her vulnerability. “This time, I want you to know everything. I don’t want you to be blindsided by my intentions, so I’m giving you a heads-up.” 

“Wands,” The nickname rolls off your tongue before you can stop it. “You can’t torture yourself like this.” 

“I’m not,” she assures you. “I just refuse to give up on my dream.” 

You’re my dream, Wanda had written in her vows. You remember it, clear as day.

Wanda gets up to leave. “I’ll see you soon.” 

As soon as Wanda exits to her car, Natasha returns to the booth with a strawberry milkshake in hand. 

“Is it over?” she asks offhandedly, referring to your conversation with Wanda.

You hesitate, then look at her with an unreadable expression on your face. You give her the only answer that feels right to you:

“For now.”

[meowmarkie]

graduation — hrj

you and renjun go for a walk after your graduation ceremony from art school, and as always, your boyfriend manages to take your breath away with his kind words.

pairing... renjun × afab!reader

genre... fluff

word count... i have no idea sorry

requested?... no!

a/n just a little something i wrote for funzies after listening to graduation by the dreamies a few times (i got inspired), and i must say that even though its not entirely proof-read, i hope you guys enjoy this piece of random fluff <3

It was finally here, the day they always dreamt of, their graduation. High school was hard enough, and college took an even harder toll for the sensible pair — Renjun and Y/N didn’t quite match with the academic way of life. It's not about how smart they could be, it was just that the strict system present in education suffocated them to the point where panic could be induced.

They’ve been key participants in each other's lives when it came to finally finishing high school or even while in college, supporting each other through thick and thin, one make-up test after the other, one exam week after the other, and so on. One might say Renjun was destined to meet you, because of how much it helped to be by your side, and vice versa.

One day back in 9th grade, you ended up meeting while skipping class on the big grass field located behind the school. Renjun was surprised to see anyone else besides him on his spot, since he thought he was the only one who knew about it. Years later, he thanks the heavens for giving him the opportunity to talk to the most beautiful girl he knew. You.

You were sitting down, knees glued to your chest while hands supported your chin. The sun managed to hit your face perfectly, in an almost ethereal way, lighting up all the soft and breathtaking features present. Your side profile highlighted the beauty was what really drew him in. The chinese boy swears up and down that he could stand there, admiring you just like that, for all eternity.

He still doesn’t know what possessed him to go on over and talk to you, but soon enough, Renjun plopped down next to your side and got to talking. You were also starstruck and incredibly smitten by the boy. It amazed you how the most popular boy among the artsy kids was paying you attention. You couldn't believe someone like him was even talking to you, but then, there he was.

And that day marked the beginning of your love story. The hours of talking went into days, the days into months, and now, months into years. 

Renjun confessed his feelings for you a little over a year ago, which then led to your now relationship.

“I can’t believe we actually did it.” You sound out, reaching for his hand receiving a loving look in return. “Like, we graduated from art school together. I honestly can’t believe it,” Renjun and you were walking down the park in order to digest the food you guys ate. The sun was setting, giving your stroll a beautiful ambience to appreciate from a distance. “We need to search for art galleries that need new employees or-"

“Well, I for one, can! We’re destined to always be together.” He softly interrupted her and his even softer smile made your cheeks gain a bright red tone. He was always so sweet to you, even while interrupting, that it felt like a dream to be able to call him your boyfriend. “And let’s worry about that tomorrow! Let’s focus on celebrating for now."

“How can you be so chill about this?!” You tried to pretend that you weren't totally smitten by him and his antics, which made Renjun look at you with even more endearment. One could say it was a vicious cycle that never seemed to end: you'd get flustered and he’d make you feel even more flustered. “We need to make rent, and also starting looking for a bigger place and-”

Renjun then leaned in, suddenly pulling you by the waist, not paying any mind to the worries you brought up — of course he knew that you definitely needed to discuss those concerns, but right now wasn’t the right time. Your faces were inches away from each other, noses touching and bodies pressed together. Your hands rested on his shoulders, while the grip on your waist by his firm hands never once faltered.

Not being able to contain yourself any longer than a few seconds, you gently press your lips against his, the action making him smile mid kiss. Renjun couldn’t blame your eagerness as he also couldn’t restrain himself, which then led to him deepening the kiss only moments after.

It’s also worth mentioning that Renjun was so eager to have you on his lips that he had a hard time keeping his hands solely on your waist. It’s a shame you were in public, because if you weren’t, he was ready to have you on his lap right then and there, while his soft lips explored the entirety of your body.

“I love you so much, you know that right?!” He said, as soon as you pulled away in need of some oxygen. “I don’t think I could even live without you.”

This was one of the things you loved the most about Renjun, he never hid how he felt about you and even went out of his way just to tell you. It was recomforting to always feel loved and secure in a relationship, especially in a relationship with him.

“And I… I also love you beyond words.” You shyly said, hiding your face on her hands right after out of embarrassment. It's ridiculous how he always managed to get you this shy, especially taking into consideration that you weren't used to saying what and how you felt, and being with Renjun was helping you learn to be more vocal about this.

He could only smile upon hearing her words, since Renjun knew how hard it was for her to say stuff like that. Not a day went by where he didn’t feel proud of her for becoming more and more comfortable in her own skin.

“God, can I just stay by your side forever? Will you allow me to, beautiful?” Thankfully you were still in his arms when the question popped up, or else you'd have face planted into the floor right then and there. Renjun’s firm grip and his sparkly eyes were the only things keeping you grounded and on the moment. “Even if everything changes on this earth, even if the sun freezes up, it’s you I want by my side, Y/N. Even if I lose everything… I can’t lose you.”

His beautifully poetic and devoted words almost made tears start to stream down your face. You didn’t think someone could romantically love you this much until you met Renjun. He widened your horizons and opened your eyes to the beauty of true love.

Nothing could have prepared you to hear those words at the moment, nor to see the look in his eyes or to feel his body pressed upon yours. His ability to know what to say before you even long to hear a confession, never ceases to amaze you.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, Junnie.” You kissed him deeply, once again, in order to express what words couldn’t at the moment. And also, if you tried to talk, you fear that you wouldn't be able to finish speaking without crying your eyes out for a good amount of time. “You’re mine and I’m yours. Forever.” You placed your hand over his heart, and did the same with his hand, gesture sending chills down his spine.

How come two people can have their souls be this deeply intertwined? You guys wouldn’t be able to answer how, but would only be able to say that it could happen and that such connection was real. After spending some more time cuddled up like that in the middle of the park, you guys started walking down the path once again, hearts filled with joy and peace.

You could only think about how lucky you were to have him, and Renjun could only think about that soon, he’d be able to proudly call you his wife.

[vvxgs]

°˖✧˚ WARNINGS: light angst. ˚✧˖°

"I'm calling you for the twentieth time!", Charles shouted as soon as he spotted his teammate. "Where have you been?"

"Doesn't matter. What happened?"

"Y/N was here about an hour ago."

"What?", the Spaniard inquired.

"I was surprised too. She seemed off, but left something for you. A letter."

That's when he realized that the fuse had been lit. Y/N was the spark leading to his ignition. Now it was a matter of whether the Spaniard could prevent the disaster from happening in time.

When his fingers touched the paper, he knew what he was about to read would irreversibly change his life. For a brief moment, he even had the urge to tear the envelope into pieces and deny himself the chance of knowing its contents.

Dear Carlos, Is this how I should start this letter? I have no idea. The last letter I wrote was about seven years ago. I addressed it to Santa Claus. But I figured you deserve more than two sentences, more than just a regular text or email.

My plane has probably already taken off, so stay where you are. Don't throw everything away trying to catch me. It's too late for that.

Maybe I'm acting selfish, giving only one of us a chance to explain, but I'm sure that whatever would come out of your mouth wouldn't change anything.

I'm learning not to dwell on our parting. I'm learning the way one learns to walk. I might stumble a few times, but then you won't even notice, and I'll cover that distance with a run.

We're too different. If I decided to stay and try, it wouldn't be healthy. This poison spreads too fast. It's unstoppable. And the antidote? It doesn't exist.

Someone once said that life is like a puzzle. The picture can be complete and perfect when all the pieces are in place. Why do we try to force a piece into a space when it doesn't fit? Don't look for me. Don't try to force me back into your life.

I understand you want to explain a lot to me, but keep it to yourself. It's the only way I won't start hating you.

Goodbye Carlos."

Carlos stood still. His muscles were relaxed, his head slightly lowered. The Spaniard was one of the indestructible. Of course, someone had chipped away at his fortress a few times, but never enough to make his castle crumble. The foundations were strong enough that despite many attacks, his body didn't resemble ruins. But that day, everything indicated that Carlos Sainz had given up.

He stood like that for a while. The letter and the white envelope slipped from his fingers, and he watched as the white sheets turned gray from the still-wet soil.

Finally, he twitched. He turned around and started walking toward the garage, not even glancing at his teammate standing there. But Charles observed him very closely.

His face was stone-like, hot and salty drops flowing down his face, leaving a trail of sorrow in their wake.

"Where are you going?", Charles finally managed to utter a question as Sainz was about to pass him.

He put his hand in his pocket, pulled something out, and moments later released pieces of paper from his hand, immediately snatched by the wind.

Sainz heard the sounds of engines. He looked up. Among the clouds, a plane soared, leaving behind a white trail.

"To hell,", Carlos exclaimed, still walking in the chosen direction, his pace quickening. "Because without her, there's no heaven."

[canonkiller]

Hi, I'm trying to do art commissions, but no one has commissioned me yet. Do you have any advice for attracting customers?

I wrote a lot of words for you in hopes that at least some of it will be helpful, so I'm putting the bulk of this answer below a read more to save people the scrolling. The quick and easy two tips that I find people forget to do the most are:

Is your art easy to find? Having a pinned post with a tag for your art, a link in your bio, or an art-focused / reblog-light blog (like this one!) make it so that people know you draw, and knowing you've been posting art for a while makes you less likely to be a scammer.

Is your commission info easy to find? People can't buy things that they don't know you're selling; clear and accessible links to your prices and terms are important.

Now for the real bulky meat of advice giving, where I say a lot of words that may or may not be relevant:

I have a lot of advice, but I do want to say before getting into it:

A lot of selling art (especially in a non-industry setting, like with social media commissions) is luck.

There is no one size fits all method for selling art, and it's best to go with what feels right to you (I'll go more into this later)

Tips for selling are not necessarily tips for creating, and there will be advice in here that I don't apply to myself. Determining what you do and do not implement is something you should decide for yourself and your work flow.

Your art not selling doesn't mean nobody cares about it.

Personally I think the idea of intentionally curating a single subject demographic of Customer and Consumer for your work is limiting and doomed to burnout in a non-industry space. I will also touch more on this later.

Now for the rest of it in varying orders:

✨ Attracting Customers

This one is going first because you mentioned it specifically. It is kind of vague though, by nature of the term, so what I advise doing is specifying.

When you are thinking of a customer, are you trying to appeal to:

People who will buy pre-made art products? (Pins, stickers, prints, etc)

People who will buy custom work? (Commissions for specific subject matter)

People who will buy art resources you've created? (Fonts, bases, texture packs, 3d models etc)

There's also frequency: a repeat customer of custom art will usually be appealed to more by a wide range of options (like illustrations), while you might get more single-purchase customers if you only offer a limited range of options (like only icons).

Demographics also, of course, play a substantial role in just custom art commissions; furries get lauded as high spenders, but they're also a huge community that is focused around OCs, so by statistics alone they will have more people with spending money and will be frequent customers of people drawing OCs. A narrower audience means fewer people, but often the spread of the people within that audience is the same - and at the end of the day, selling an art piece only requires one other person, it's just a matter of happening to find them.

The follow up question is of course the finding: the average artist in fandom spaces selling commissions does not have the platform or budget for an ad campaign. This, however, is also its own category:

✨ Posting Online

Right out the gate: anyone who has told you that just drawing x thing is the way to get easy money is wrong.

"If you draw more fan art, you'll -" wrong.

"Nobody cares about that, you should be drawing this instead -" wrong.

"if you need to sell fast, just sell porn -" wrong. And also re-evaluate your perceived lack of quality or value about the subject.

The things you will be able to create easily and consistently will be the things YOU, SPECIFICALLY, like to create. It is also entirely impossible that you are the only person on earth to have ever liked those things, which means that if you create them, there are people out there who will enjoy them.

It feels itchy to be like "and those people are Potential Customers", but it is true; your work will resonate with people. They will want you to create it. It is vitally important to your own well being that the things you create, that you want others to enjoy, are things you enjoy as well.

(This is also why the "just draw porn" joking advice that gets tossed around is particularly fucked up. You as the artist should not feel forced into drawing things you aren't comfortable with, and the vast majority of customers for explicit content also don't want the people making it to feel forced into doing so. It's basic consent. I have strong feelings about this.)

If you are creating things and putting them out into the world, they will find an audience. That audience may be one singular person! The number does not matter, because that's still a person who - again, sucks to frame ig this way - has the potential to buy things from you.

If you're constantly chasing a bigger follower count, more interactions, etc etc for the future, it can genuinely be pretty taxing on the people who want to support you in the present. When you enjoy someone's work, and want to support them, being told constantly that that support is not good enough is frustrating. Trying to follow your work should not lead to seeing more "likes are WORTHLESS and NOBODY reblogs my things" posts than it does art. You are a person making things to share with other people, and you have to remember it or you will burn yourself out into a desiccated husk.

TL:DR consistency is key and the easiest way to be consistent is to just draw whatever the fuck you live drawing in whatever ways you want to draw it, and then slap it on the internet somewhere and Keep Doing That

✨ The Actual Commission Information

this one is just factual really. A lot of artists have really shitty commission sheet layouts, because advertising graphic design and illustrative art are different skill sets. That's fine. You don't have to remake the wheel. A good commission sheet should include:

More images than text (if you can't see what the examples are when zoomed out, you have to rearrange or cut down on words)

Examples organized by price / type, and clearly labeled

Your personal favourites for examples - one really strong example piece is better than twenty tiny images of work you think is just "okay"

Contact information - having a method that works WITHOUT a social media account (email.) Is important and way easier to keep organized, imo

A SIMPLE list of strengths (the things you draw the best) and things you won't draw (common example: mechs). You do not need to list every fandom or subject matter. Limit yourself to a top five.

A clear and easy to type link for your terms of service. Carrd, and sites like it, is good for this. This will go into details about your process, what you will and won't do, permissions granted to the commissioner (like "no, you can't make an NFT with this"), your privacy policy (saying you won't sell commissioner details to third parties), and other stuff. You do not want to have all of this on your original post, because it should be thorough and you want your main post to be showcasing your work and not your legalese. Here's mine as a reference; if you have trouble writing your own, feel free to copy from it and make the necessary alterations for your work.

✨ There Was More I Was Going To Write But I Forgot

I have a different document of commission related talk here, which is also incomplete but in a different way. It's in my nature. Hopefully some combination of this and that can be useful to you. Sorry if they're not. I love you have a nice day

[shannankle]

Framing in DFF: Voyeurism and Sex

Okay I kept thinking about this conversation between @brifrischu and @lurkingshan over the last few days. They both make great points about how the show is using the sex scenes to convey conflict, themes, and genre expectations (or the subversion of these). Since I did a whole post thinking about visual framing and the camera's gaze, I wanted to compare how each of the sex scenes is drawing on different forms of voyeurism to convey ideas to the audience, and even draw us in and interrogate our reactions as viewers.

Before we jump into analyzing scenes, I wanted to establish a few levels of visual gaze/voyeurism.

The typical gaze of the camera. Here there's no obvious signals or framing of voyeurism apart from the natural voyeurism inherent in filming and watching any piece of visual media.

We know a character is being watched but we don't see the watcher doing this. Perhaps a character expresses feeling watched or thinks they saw something. At this level we may stay in the perspective of the character being watched or an outside perspective where the watcher remains off screen.

The gaze is mediated in a way that evokes watching. For example, through a camera, a window, or the first-person viewpoint of the killer (common in horror). The voyeurism becomes more obvious and experiential. We're implicated more explicitly in the gaze but not necessarily in a way that forces the audience to reflect on this fact.

We see someone else gazing in a mediated way. Hannah Bonner puts it best in a chapter she wrote about Cabin in the Woods and other films with surveillance: "The voyeur is no longer just the audience, squirming in their seats from Michael Meyers's point of view as he tracks down his naked sister and her boyfriend in Halloween...now the audience as voyeur watches the voyeurs watch the surveyed" (90). This gets meta on the viewer.

I'd argue that each sex scene manipulates these levels of voyeurism in ways that play with genre expectations, and in ways that play with and challenge our reactions as viewers to different kinds of sex.

Tee and White

The scene with Tee and White begins with us looking through the open door. We actually start with just Tee. White moves in from off screen and joins him as if the porch is a stage. So we start at a mild version of voyeurism level 3--our view is mediated in a way that evokes watching through the open door. It's not as obvious as other forms of mediation like windows (which we'll discuss later for Phi and Jin) but it's still getting us into that territory.

This quickly changes to more open shots on the porch. These are unmediated so we move into level 1 territory for a short bit as the two begin making out. That is until White sees a flash of Masky. There we enter level 2 as we see this from White's perspective. And of course, he then expresses the feeling of being watched explicitly.

The hand comes in to grope Tee, and I'd argue this lies between levels 1 and 2. We as the audience see the hand and certainly that implies a degree of being watched by whoever or whatever is getting handsy. But we neither see from their perspective nor see them watching per se.

In true slasher fashion however, we get the implication that the horny couple is being watched. In a straight 90s slasher, this would be the indication that at least one member of the promiscuous couple is about to die (and often they're the first to die in the film). The slasher film thus allows the watcher a titillating glimpse of sex or at the very least a woman undressing, while also punishing this promiscuity. It's quite common to have such scenes play out either from the killer's perspective (level 3) or at least with it implied they are watching (level 2).

So in a typical slasher, the fact that White feels watched and we see the hand would be the signal that one or both of these two will die soon after.

But as others have pointed out, this doesn't happen. We're pretty much told as much by the way the story skirts this genre convention narratively. But I'd also argue they subvert it visually.

When the two actually get down to the actual sex part, we cut to the two in the shower, largely blurred by the glass. Now, we could perhaps argue that this is a mediated gaze. But I'd argue that a) filming sex scenes in showers is so common that it doesn't necessarily feel like it evokes watching quite in that way and b) the gaze is intentionally limited and denied through blurring effects. Yes this is likely in part because Fuaiz was under 18 while filming. However, it also moves us into level 1 territory. This feels intentional in the way that it pushes back on the visual tropes of the slasher genre in a very deliberate way. It is not meant to be solely titillating, and it also drops any visual queues that might suggest they are being targeted, effectively detaching sex and sexuality from being inherently tied to death and the murderous gaze.

We get the threat but it is quickly dissipated. We get a similar move a few scenes later, where for Tee and White, outside voyeurism is explicitly denied. When the group is looking at the security footage they flip over to video of Tee and White on the porch. We move into a level 3 (we see the footage on the screen) and implied level 4 (the group watching said footage), but only for a fraction of a moment. Tee steps in to block the gaze of both the group and the audience. The threat of being viewed is once again blocked and diffused as me move back to level 1.

This denial and push back on higher levels of voyeurism stands in contrast to how Non and Keng are filmed. So on the one hand, Tee and White's scenes navigate and subvert the voyeuristic tropes of the slasher. On the other hand, they raise thematic concerns about surveillance. And not just surveillance but who gets surveilled and why.

Phi and Jin

Phi and Jin have had two sex scenes so it's interesting to compare them visually. In episode 1, we start off and remain primarily in level 1 voyeurism territory, with one exception. There is a moment as Jin is giving Phi head where we shift perspective. We move inside the house and view them for a few moments through a dew stained window. Like Tee and White there is some blurring happening, but much less pronounced. However, unlike the shower glass or the open door, the window much more clearly evokes watching, moving us into level 3 in the middle of Jin and Phi's first sexual scene.

In the second scene, we begin almost immediately at level 3 with a mediated gaze. It's unclear if this is a closet, wall fixture, or window, but we're viewing the scene through it as if we are hiding and watching. Throughout the scene we also get an unsteady almost shaky camera effect that fits this level. Of course, we then get the much more obvious moment where Phi pushes Jin against the window and we move to view them from outside. Finally we have the dog/astronaut doll who watches over the encounter. Since it's an inanimate object it doesn't actually move us into level 4 here but there is an allusion here to being watched at that level all the same.

All of this is clearly an intentional choice. As @lurkingshan points out Phi and Jin are filmed so explicitly in part to highlight their betrayal of Non. The scene clearly plays on Phi's emotional betrayal of Non and New (at least from their perspective) as that is what the episode is building to. But it also strongly dialogues with Jin's own guilt through it's framing. Jin who harmed Non through voyeurism has that gaze placed on himself.

It's interesting because this is the scene shot most consistently from level 3, what we would expect from a slasher scene. But it isn't the killer that is watching or hanging over them, but rather their own mixed up feelings of guilt. It's an interesting subversion of the role this level of voyeurism can play within horror. It feels particularly queer as well. Tee and White's sex which is narratively placed in the role of our first victims, is subverted and visually moves down to level 1. While the late in the game sex between Jin and Phi visually plays out like Tee and White's should have if this followed the slasher mold. Sexuality is decoupled from voyeuristic and narrative tropes that would link it to judgement and death. Instead it becomes a "window" into the characters' inner struggles and interpersonal dynamics.

While not as meta as Non and Keng's scene (which we'll get to soon), the framing here offers a subversion of the typical ways we tie sex into our judgements of morality and of other people/characters.

Non and Phi

Non and Phi's sexual moments are left to implication. We get no indication that anyone is watching them. Aside from the inherent voyeurism of the camera, their moments feel private, safely away from the world. They kiss in secluded places, squarely at level 1. The sex itself happens off screen, perhaps arguably even moving us into a level 0. If Tee and White's sex is framed in ways that push back on gazing, Non and Phi's sex is made entirely impossible to view in the first place.

Levels 1 and 0 feel right at home in BL. This isn't to say we don't get other levels in BLs but it's not exactly a primary mode or a consistent trope. The exception perhaps is the threat in some dramas of being outed: being walked in on or seen making out out or embracing. Depending on the story this ranges from a friend who ultimately accepts them to someone who reacts with rejection. In either case, in these stories voyeurism as a theme typically revolve around homophobia. However, here we're signaled from the get go that the show will be exploring other themes. Tee and White's brief exposure to the group isn't playing on the tension of the closet. So from a visual standpoint, the way voyeurism is played out for Tee and White (as the group sees their footage) also signals that the show isn't really playing in the BL sandbox, it's just borrowing some sand.

For Non and Phi, then, the private nature of their relationship, and the fact that it remains at level 0 and 1, isn't a reflection of them hiding their queerness per se. Rather it dialogues with the perceptions both the group and the audience have of Non up until this point. The assumption that he is an outcast through and through, that he is unloved, that they/we already see his full complexity.

Non and Keng

This privacy given to Non and Phi is contrasted strongly with how Non and Keng are framed. By juxtaposing the two pairs, I believe that the show is challenging certain assumptions and dialogues around sex.

As Non and Keng begin to kiss and touch we stay in level 1 territory initially. However, this changes sharply when Jin and Fluke come to look for them. When we see the sex it is not through a neutral camera but through Jin's first person perspective. The shot is cut as if looking through a cracked door. We enter level 3 voyeurism. Quickly, as Jin pulls out his phone, we move from level 3 to level 4. We are now not just experiencing Jin watching, but we've become voyeurs to Jin's voyeurism. He watches and films, and we watch him do so.

The show clearly has a lot to say about what it means to surveil others and about the ways our perceptions can do others harm. It's very intentional that Non and Keng's sex is framed this way. As @lurkingshan points out, the scene is intentionally graphic to hit home on the fact that this is SA. In line with this, the visual framing takes us to the highest level of voyeurism (level 4) to make this violation clear. This doesn't just stress how awful this is, but also ask us as viewers to be reflective on our own judgements and perception.

As @brifrischu points out, Non and Keng's sex is transactional and easily judged as cheating, slutty, and scandalous on Non's part rather than SA. This contrasts with the level 0 and 1 of Phi and Non, who are judged as sweet, safe, and monogamous in contrast. By pulling us into level 4, the show is getting meta, and asking us to reflect on these assumptions. It wants to draw these comparisons in a way that makes us stand back and think about our role as viewers and voyeurs. As an audience we are implicated in the dichotomy that's drawn. There's an awareness here of audience response (or at least one unfortunately common one) and a critique of it built into the visual levels being played with. This is of course highlighted further in the following episode where Non reads social media commentary about the leaked video.

By making us voyeurs of this voyeurism, we're made complicit in a deeply uncomfortable but intentional way as we're asked to reflect on our perspectives around sex and morality. In doing this the show is highlighting the harm we can do just as it highlights the harm the characters do to one another.

[kafus]

as the resident ceo of likodot, what are your thoughts on the scene in episode 9 where dot ends up being the one who gives liko the courage she needs to tell her father that she wants to continue traveling with the RVT?

AH YES. THIS SCENE. I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS. THANK U FOR ASKING. apologies if this post is messy i have brainfog but i wanted to answer it anywayyyy

dot and liko's early connection is pretty interesting to me because at the time of this episode, the two barely know each other. dot first appears in episode 7 and this happens a couple episodes later in episode 9... not a lot of time has passed.

at this point in episode 9, liko knows that dot:

is murdock's niece and around the same age as her

is a tech wiz who wrote the app the RVT use to maintain the brave asagi and talk to each other

is good at gathering info online too

is a social recluse

does not eat very well/doesn't eat with other people

is interested in legendary pokemon, mysteries, that sort of stuff

and of course, she has heard the gurumin theme song coming from dot's room, and seen her quaxly, which leads to the iconic misunderstanding that dot is a huge fan of gurumin and not... literally gurumin lol

on the other hand, liko has no idea what dot looks like, does not know anything about her history, and has not had a proper conversation with her - their only communications have been through her bedroom door, first through quaxly bringing her and roy notes (which are drawings to interpret and not even actual written words), then when dot yells angrily at her to shut up/go away because she's interrupting dot setting up for her livestream, and then when dot finally budges just enough to mention her interest in legendaries & mysterious things.

by all regards dot is probably more of a concept to liko at this point than a whole person; a disembodied sometimes-voice who belongs to someone that deserves to be reached out to, but who hasn't actually been reached yet. this is overtly clear with her misunderstanding about dot being a gurumin fan - liko is piecing together who she thinks dot is with very little context clues and actual interactions and she is literally drawing the wrong conclusions lol. at most right now liko is interested in dot because of the whole gurumin thing... and because she's just a compassionate person who can't imagine that the person behind that door is a bad one, or someone who should be ignored, so she's compelled to learn more and reach out and figure dot out.

and that's the thing. liko is just naturally the sort of person to want to go out of her way to reach out to dot despite knowing pretty much nothing about her personally, and even having their first couple of interactions be rude ones. she follows through - she takes dot's lunch to her, makes sure to say "i'll talk to you later" and thank her for things, in a way that roy isn't (not to say that roy doesn't care, but liko is focused on her in particular). sure, the idea that they have a mutual interest in gurumin definitely helps, but she was interested before that and wasn't thrown off by her rude drawing of roy losing to fuecoco even before she started associating dot with gurumin. and this, especially coming from a peer and not a worried adult, is certainly foreign to dot and she kind of doesn't know how to deal with it, but it means a lot to her.

^ i think this bit at the end of episode 8 after liko and roy walk away is a really good summary of how dot is about all of this. she's reclusive, doesn't like noise, likes being in her own space, and she's "supposed" to find people like roy and liko irritating... but she can't help but smile about them being around, and while thinking about them.

oh, and of course dot has been overwhelmed by liko's compliments towards her work as gurumin even though liko doesn't know that's who she's complimenting. she's a popular youtuber and i'm sure she gets compliments from people all the time, but this is definitely a foreign experience for her in person, coming from someone verbally like that, not to mention how genuine and passionate liko is about it. i mean it makes her blush like this okay come on:

ALL OF THIS is to say that liko is a meaningful person to dot at this point, despite how little liko actually knows about her. liko has reached out to her in a way that no one has before, has directly complimented her work/passion, and has responded to her rudeness/antisocial behavior with even more curiosity instead of shying away.

so like of course when it's possible that liko is going to leave, she's upset about it and wants to do something about it. this is such a new situation and she's still so reclusive that she needs a little push from landau (who knows her well enough to tell she has emotions about this despite her not exactly wearing them on her sleeve), but the feelings she has about liko are enough to push her through, just enough to leave a wordless drawing by her door, which is massive for her at this point in time.

liko's response to this is understandably not super expressive or emotional, and in fact right after seeing the drawing, she first has a far more emotive conversation with mollie and orio and then roy, before eventually taking the drawing with her to dot's door and thanking her. she still doesn't know dot that well and honestly even though she was thinking that dot was opening up a little bit, she probably didn't expect this gesture. she doesn't know how meaningful her reaching out to dot has actually been.

regardless, she understands the meaning of the drawing and once again goes to talk to her, even without expecting a response back, and is able to go leave and tell her dad she wants to stay on the brave asagi, so it obviously contributed to her courage. it's proof that even this person who she barely knows cares about her and wants her to stay, and it also rewards her efforts of reaching out and proves to her that yes, dot is opening up and receiving liko's attempts at reaching out - her advances aren't unwanted. how's she supposed to leave now that she's sunk this time and effort into connecting with dot? dot is not the only reason she wants to stay of course, but it's a piece of the puzzle. she can't just leave now that they've made this connection successfully!!

dot says this after liko's already left, but regardless they've made a connection in their own unique, nonverbal way, and of course everything between them continues to grow from here.

so anyway all of this is to say i think it's fascinating the way these two connect mostly without words and through action/gesture at the start of the series, and i think the lopsidedness of their connection with each other is actually pretty interesting and reveals how much liko's compassion and efforts affect dot early on. she really is the vessel through which dot comes out of her shell and that's evident from the beginning

ALSO as an aside, very cute that dot does these little doodles at all? they aren't bad!! liko also draws... even though dot doesn't seem to take it as seriously or have it as an actual hobby i think they should draw together i think this would be cute JIOSJDOF

[weneeya]

a pretty barista w/ sanji m.list | rules

note. some old stuff I found again, and that I wanted to share with you! I'm pretty proud of it, hope you'll enjoy it <3

The first time you met him was on a Thursday. Every Thursday, you were going to the same coffee shop to take the same usual thing. A small routine that you got after some months in the city. But today, the usual barista wasn’t here. To replace him, there was another man. The first thing you noticed about this boy wasn’t his golden hair, shining like a sun ; in fact, you saw his eyes. Ocean blue eyes in which you get lost so easily. You thought of how pretty they were before his soft voice brought you back to Earth. You shook your head, starting to stutter because of the unease you started to feel. You said sorry a few times, thinking of how stupid you must be looking right now. Except that he didn’t feel as awkward as you. The young man simply laughed. A sweet laugh. The type of laugh that you want to hear all the time, for the rest of your days. He wasn’t mocking you though ; your reaction was genuine, and he thought it was cute. This is how your first meeting ended.

Sanji. That was his name. You heard it when one of his colleagues called him from behind for help. A pretty name for such a pretty boy. Yeah, you were definitely falling for the new barista. Every time you were meeting him, you were getting all flustered. He was too much for you, in every way. This is how you ended up staying at the coffee shop, sitting at a table from where you could look at him without being too obvious. Sipping your drink, you were clearly simping for him. The barista had become a new reason to come drink coffee more often than before. A day per week wasn’t enough. You needed to see him more, without being too creepy of course.

The first time you really dared talk to him was at the end of his work, on a Monday. He was working here for three months and a half already, and you were coming more often than before. He was ready to leave when you arrived, raising your eyes in his direction, in front of him. “Excuse me, I know you want to come home but... I was thinking that... maybe...” you looked away, hesitant.

You were playing with your fingers, feeling awkward like most of the time when you were in front of him. He was so pretty, you couldn’t help but to blush just by looking at him. You were such a teenager, and you hated herself for that.

“I thought that… maybe we could do something? Later, when you’re not busy?” You looked at him again, speaking quickly because of stress.And the smile that appeared on the blond man’s lips could have killed you, right now.

“Yeah, I would love that! Here, take my number.” He wrote something on a piece of paper before giving it to you. Not losing his bright smile, he raised his hand a bit.

“See you soon then!” He said as he left right before that. You were still with your hand up, completely lost. Did he really say yes? You could have cried. You thought that he was going to decline politely. You felt so lucky, you started to smile dumbly.

The first time you went on a date was a week after your bravery. Stupidly enough, your idea was to bring him to a coffee shop. You didn’t think twice before making this offer, but he said yes with no hesitation. This is how you ended up sitting at a table, in front of each other. It wasn’t as awkward as you thought it was going to be. Sanji was someone with a lot of things to say ; and good for him, you were a very good listener. Especially when it was listening to someone with such a soft voice. He was so elegant when he was talking, but also so adorable when it was about something he loved. When he started to talk about cooking, you could tell how much he loved that. Moving his hands at the same time, following what he was saying. You were listening to him with all the attention in the world, smiling fondly. Every part of him you were discovering was only making you fall harder for Sanji.

The first time you didn’t pay for your drink was almost five months after Sanji’s arrival. You came to take your order, as always, not feeling anxious anymore. A smile appeared on your lips when you met his blue eyes, matching with his shirt. He knew by heart what you were drinking, not asking anymore. You were almost communicating just by looking at each other. And when you arrived to pay for your order, he slowly shook his head.

“That’s on me” he almost whispered, giving you a wink. You looked away, thanking him a few times. She could feel her cheeks burning because of him. In fact, it was most of the time because of him. He was playing with your heart, and you didn’t know if he was aware of that.

After that, it happened a few times. You started to refuse after some time, saying that he didn’t have to do that, and you started to fight for minutes. It became part of your routine. It wasn’t a bad argument ; you were more fighting like children than something else.

The last time you came alone was not so long after one of your dates. Sanji wasn’t a barista anymore. Your favorite blond was now a chef in a restaurant called the Baratie and was doing what he loved the most. This is why you came together at the coffee shop where he was previously working. The man who was your favorite blond was, in fact, your blond now. Surprisingly enough, he was the one who confessed first. This is how you discovered how much of a sweet lover Sanji was. Still waiting for your coffee, he took your hand and left a soft kiss on it, raising his eyes to you.

“I’ll wait, find us a table sweetheart. I know what you want.”

You couldn’t help but to feel your cheeks burning a bit. You weren't used to it. But you would. Now that the pretty barista was your pretty boyfriend, you were ready to get used to anything. 

there we go!! thank u for reading, don't hesitate to request :)

[ayteya]

Human or Avatar!reader giving her first ever Na'vi bracelet or necklace made by herself to Neteyam/Tsu'tey. It's not an amazing work, maybe even quite bad, but he keeps it anyway.

Also if you want to add some spice, such a gift may give him a wrong idea. But it's up to you.

Narlor - Beautiful

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Neteyam x reader

Word count: 473

Warnings: ngl, I wrote this at literally 2 a.m. (Yes that's a warning itself), so I dunno if there are any mistakes (Sorry sorry). I just forgot to post it, so that's what I'm doing now.

A/N: Hey anon, thx for the request ^-^ I chose to do this one with Teyam, cuz I have smth in my drafts for Tsu'tey- Also, I didn't add spice, cuz I didn't rlly saw it fit into this fic, hope you'll forgive me <3

„Aaaand finished.“, he laid the newly-made necklace down on his thigh. „What about you, paskalin?“, Neteyam looked over at Y/N, watching her fingers move at the piece of jewelry.

She didn't turn to meet his eyes, still focused on tying the knots, „Mhm... Just a bit more.“

Neteyam nodded, silently sitting cross legged next to his girlfriend, watching her in awe as she created a necklace as beautiful as herself. How did he get so lucky? How did he get so lucky, to have a girl like that as his mate?

That 'a bit more' turned into 15 minutes, and she finally tied the finishing knot. „Done... Frustrating crap... Now I know why I'm better at hunting.“, dramatically, Y/N let herself fall back to the ground from her sitting position.

„It looks beautiful. You did really good, yawne.“

Y/N just blankly stared at him, at the necklace, then back at Neteyam again. „Yeah no. Doesn't look good. Just take a look at yours- The entire thing looks so- so... I dunno how to describe it, just wow. And then-“, she let out a scoff, holding up her selfmade jewelry with a single finger „and then there's this thing right here.“

The young man lightly pushed her shoulder, „Hey, stop talking like that, would you?. It looks great, alright? It's your first one, you'll make more in the future and I'm sure you're gonna like them.“

„Yeah ok, but look at that knot and bead right there, it's-“

Neteyam interrupted her with a quick „No, I said stop.“

But Y/N being Y/N, she didn't listen, „Lo'ak would've done better than m-“, her sentence was stopped as she felt Teyam's lips on her own, engaging her in a kiss.

After some seconds passed, they pulled apart, only for him to lean in once more, stealing another kiss from her soft lips. Y/N was kinda suprised, so she asked him, „What was that for?“

He only responded with, „Was the only way to stop you from talking shit, yawne.“

----

The next day, when Y/N saw Neteyam again, her eyes immediately fell to his neck. There was a necklace. Her necklace. The one she made the day before. How could he wear such thing?

Neteyam noticed her gaze and chuckled. „I didn't lie when I said it's beautiful.“, he mentioned to Y/N „You're wearing the one I made as well.“

„Of course, but-“

„Paskalin, Dad doesn't want me to be late for training again.“, he stroked her cheek before bending down to give her a passionate kiss. „I'll see you later, yeah?“, with that, Neteyam stepped over to Jake, who was standing some feet away, aling with a handful of other hunters from the clan.

Now it was Y/N's turn to think how she could get so lucky, as she watched her beloved boyfriend walk away.

!Translations! Paskalin - Honey/Sweet berry Yawne - Beloved

Hope you liked it, if you want to request something, just click here.

Love y'all, Ayteya <3

[starrystevie]

part one

dating a popstar isn't exactly where eddie ever thought his life would be going. said popstar being the one and only steve harrington definitely wasn't a part of that idea, either. you know, the steve that was littered up and down his body in varying colors and styles, scripts and swirls, large and small love letters to his music on whatever space looked too empty. dating that steve was a concept that eddie never took the time to put actual thought into until they met on his tour.

it became a reoccurring thing, the whole "eddie in steve's tour bus, ending up with far less clothes on than he came to the concert with, showing off a new piece to gentle fingers and softer than soft lips" thing. and that reoccurring thing turns into the "steve learning what the inside of eddie's apartment looks like with the sunset painting the walls only to wake up to see what the sunrise makes it look like with far less clothes on than he came over with" thing.

it's on their second official date in the city, when they drink enough vodka sodas to make them just past tipsy and they tumble into eddie's apartment wrapped around each other, that steve see's it. or well, her. eddie strums over the red guitar's strings lightly once before turning back to steve with a wide grin and grabby hands, sauntering over in what he must think is sexy but has steve snorting out a laugh instead.

"you play?" he asks as eddie nuzzles into the space between his shoulder and neck, open mouth kisses tickling the sensitive skin, making his fingers dig just so into eddie's hips.

"mmhmm," he murmurs back noncommittally, focusing more on making temporary bruises form on the pale skin under his lips. "i'm in a band sometimes."

steve laughs with a shake of his head and threads his fingertips through eddie's hair, pulls him back enough to lock gazes, drags his fingers across spit slick lips because he can't help it. "how are you in a band 'sometimes'? most band guys i know are hardcore about it. life or death for the music, you know?"

"well, maybe i'm not like most guys you know, harrington." he says it with a smirk, one that gets returned, before he goes back to steve's neck and has hands wrapped tightly around his hips again.

steve doesn't let it go after that. it's a few days later that he asks eddie about the band, about what music they play and if they have any songs, any albums. asks him to play a song for him as they sit in the moonlight with sated smiles and something love-tinged hanging in the air. it becomes their thing, steve sings for eddie when they're in his tour bus and eddie plays for steve when they're at his apartment. they show their unreleased stuff to each other and it feels good, feels right.

"hey babe, come here for a second" steve says one day on his second tour since the two started dating as eddie brushes his teeth in the hotel suite bathroom. he pads out with bare feet on hardwood floors and finds steve standing next to the full-body mirror examining his bare torso with far more attention than he's ever paid it before.

"... what are you doing?" eddie questions with minty-fresh breath as he comes to stand behind his boyfriend with a chin over his shoulder. he scans over steve in the mirror from his cheeky grin down to the moles dotting his chest down to his ribs where there's-

"oh," his eyes grow wide, steve's hands grab his to pull them around his stomach and press his back to eddie's chest. "that's..."

to the naked eye, it's just a few bats. it's small enough to be hidden away under shirts and polyester, easy enough to explain away to prying eyes. but eddie knows what it really is. he thinks back to the night he first played him the bare bones of "bat out of hell", the song he wrote during his roughest time that wouldn't go anywhere other than his notebook. but now he see's it on steve's skin, etched into him like a stark reminder of him and them and the love that courses in their veins alongside the ink that was purposefully chosen.

eddie presses a lingering kiss onto steve's cheek, eyes closed as he breathes in the air that surrounds the love of his life and thinks about how lucky he was that he was on shift the night of steve's first show in indianapolis.

"figured you have enough pieces of me, i wanted to have a piece of you, too."