#but Harry decided to Do It anyways! and it ended up turning into a Bad Thing for him (trying to be as vauge as possible lol)

[wildwolf-fandoms]

Growling biting hissing screaming Tumblr dot com doesn't have a real fandom for Requiem For A Dream crying screaming throwing up

Tw: caps and drug mentioned

WHENEVER I OPEN THE TAG FOR THIS MOVIE IT'S ALL ABOUT MARIAM AND HARRY'S LOVE FOR EACH OTHER AND GIF/SCREENSHOTS ABOUT THEIR LOVE AND ITS SOOO FRUSTRATING

Like it's nice that people can relate to their love but THIS MOVIE IS ABOUT HOW DRUGS RUINED THEIR LIVES. WHY DO I HAVE TO OPEN YOUTUBE AND GOOGLE TO SEE DISCUSSIONS ABOUT IT???!! WHY CANT WE TALK ABOUT THE WAY SHOTS ARE DONE AND HOW ACTORS KILLED IT AND HOW SAD THEIR LIVES HAVE BECAME AND HOW NEITHER SARAH NOR HARRY KNOWS HOW TERRIBLE EACH OTHER BECAME BECAUSE OF DRUGS???

Sarah, if she even has consciousness at this point, is probably thinking at least her dear, handsome son is studying at a great university and doing better than her; while Harry could only wish that his dear mother is doing much better than how him and his friends are doing.

AND WHAT ABOUT SARAH'S NEIGHBOURS?? THEY SUGGESTED THE FAKE/BAD DOCTOR TO HER, SO SHE CAN LOOSE WEIGHT FASTER! THEY WERE CLEARLY HORRIFIED TO SEE HER GET OUT OF HER HOUSE TOWARDS THE END OF THE MOVIE BECAUSE SARAH WAS HORRIBLE?? WHAT ABOUT THE GUILT OF KILLING YOUR CLOSE FRİEND UNINTENTIONALLY??

AND MARIAM LITERALLY GAVE HER BODY TO PAY THE BILLS AND TYSON GOT LOCKED UP IN PRISON FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE AND HARRY LOST HIS ARM AND SARAH FUCKING DIED (?) AND AAAA

Why the fans (?) here are not talking about the characters and events of this movie instead of posting the same sex/love scene between Marian and Harry 74747th time???? Their love is just the part of this movie, but it's not what it is about!!!

[entitled-fangirl]

Spitfire.

Harry Castillo x reader

Summary: Harry decides he needs someone with more personality. When the band for his next gala quits unexpectedly, Lucy has a connection to a singer for him. A good one. One that's a little spitfire.

Warnings: cursing, sexual tension and remarks, SPOILERS to Materialists

Masterlist

.................................................................

“How’d the date go with Brenda?” 

Harry stared at Lucy, mouth opening and closing a few times. “Honestly, Lucy? I think this whole matchmaking thing isn’t working like I thought.”

Lucy frowned. “Why? Every thing about her was perfect for you. What did I miss?”

“She just… had no personality.”

“You didn’t specify that in your non-negotiables.”

“I know. It’s not anything you did. It’s just,” he sighs, rubbing at his forehead, “I have too much going on at work. How about we pause the dates until I get everything settled?”

Lucy nods. “Of course.” She writes something down before pausing. “Even with our past and all, I hope you know you can tell me stuff. Confide in me. As a friend. Or an employee. Whatever is easiest.”

He considers it, then almost denies it. But there’s some pull that is forcing the words out. He leans back in his chair. “Alright.” He takes a long drink. "I love my brother. I do. But with him being a newlywed, I'm picking up the slack at the business. Tonight is this big gala we're hosting. The band quit at the last minute, I don't have a date-"

"-Oh. I can help with that."

"Lucy," he warns. "I don't need a date."

"No, no. I meant the other thing. The one before that. The band." At his confused expression, she tore the corner of a paper and began writing. "A friend of mine sings on the weekends at the lounge down the street."

He leans forward curiously. "Which one?"

"Mountainside lounge."

"Oh. She any good?"

"Well, Harry. I wouldn't suggest her if she made my ears bleed, now would I? I will warn you. She's got… a lot of personality.

He takes the torn paper like it's gold. "Thank you. I fear I owe you one."

"Maybe just one more date? I got this really beautiful woman-"

"-Alright. Bye, Lucy." He stands, exiting the restaurant with more pep in his step.

The paper between his fingers weighs on him. An email address. Interesting.

…

You reread the email with a puzzled brow. Lucy really suggested you to this guy? To the Castillos? 

It's professional, but you can sense the desperation in his secretary's tone. Usually, you'd decline. But something about it has you replying back.

Within minutes, they gets back to you.

And you're set to sing on Saturday. You frantically call your accompanist. When they say they can't make it, you managed to get your roommate to do it. She's far too good at the piano anyway to not use that skill anywhere.

…

You set up without seeing a single Castillo. Only the wait staff and the planning committee. They help you as much as you need. It was kind, but you were hoping to at least see the guy that hired you before the party.

You had put way too much thought into your outfit, just like you always do. Singing at the lounge on the weekends paid for a few fancy dresses. Ones way out of your price range. You use that to your advantage a lot.

Like tonight.

You present yourself like you're one of the most esteemed singers in NYC. In reality, you and your roommate barely make ends meet.

But for tonight, you can live it up a little.

It was like every other joint you've sang at. Men ogle you a bit too much. The women give forced claps after a few songs. You're used to the steady routine. 

Half way through the night, you take a small break. You giggle to the side with your roommate turned accompanist until a voice breaks the conversation. "Excuse me, I was hoping to get your ladies a drink."

You pause, lip tight at you stare at your roommate. Another one of those pervy guys hoping to take you home.

But when you turn to look at him, you don't get that vibe at all.

His eyes are far too kind.

"Oh. I can't drink," you nod, "bad for the voice."

"Oh, I'd definitely take a drink," your roommate interrupts. 

The man grins and nods. "I can do that." His eyes set back on you. "Water then for you?"

"Yeah. Warm."

His eyes stay on you a little too long before he turns back to the crowd, disappearing to get those said drinks.

"He's fine as hell," your roommate teases. "If you don't fuck him, I will."

"Oh my god," you whisper-yell. "Keep it in your pants. We're working."

"You're working. I'm pitching in a favor from last Monday."

Last Monday. A sleazy bar fight started by someone getting a little too close to your roommate and you were the only one that did something about it. You're still sporting a wide bruise on your leg from getting knocked down.

"You don't owe me anything for that. C'mon."

"Well, no one else did anything until you fucking absorbed the first hit-"

"Okay. Stop. We'll talk about this later. Just… be professional for a few more hours?"

She sighs. "Fine."

In perfect timing, a tall glass on warm water is sat on the piano in front of you. You can feel him behind you, tie barely brushing your back before he's away from you once again. 

"- and I got you a bit of champagne. Hope that wasn't a bad choice."

Your roommate takes it with greedy hands. "It's perfect. Thank you, Mr…"

"Harry. Harry Castillo."

You freeze, shoulders tightening. "Oh," you push out. "You're Lucy's… friend."

He seems to stiffen up too. "Yeah. Something like that."

"I only meant… you're the one that hired me?"

He relaxes at that, turning on the facade again. "Exactly so. She had good things to say about you."

"I think you were just desperate for a singer."

He laughs. "Maybe so. But you weren't a bad choice in any sense."

You lean against the piano. "I've been told I'm often a bad choice."

His brows raise. "Well, certainly not about your voice." He takes a moment to look at his shoes, recalling a thought. "Lucy did tell me you were a spitfire, though."

"She said that?"

He laughs and nods, content to get a little reaction out of you. "You disagree?"

You consider his words, fighting back and forth with yourself. Professionally, you were calm, cool and collected. Outside of work? A bull in a china closet. "'M not sure."

He keeps a subtle grin on his lips, puppy dog eyes trained on you. "You seem pretty tame."

You can feel the arousal work it's way down your spine to between your legs. 

And with that, he taps the piano lightly like a send-off. "I'll enjoy hearing you the rest of the night, little songbird." And he steps away, businessman facade turned on high as he grins and shakes a man's hand like he hadn't turned your world on its side.

Your head slowly turns to your roommate, whose eyes are trained on the sheet music in front of her. 'Holy fuck,' she mouths, not having the courage to look at you after that.

You exhale, unsure of what to think. He's far too charming, alarmingly so. And yet here without a date. It's odd.

You take a little longer than you should've to collect yourself before beginning the second half of the night.

You know Harry's eyes are on you.

…

As the event comes to a close, you decide to pack up early. You have a busy day tomorrow and your voice needs to rest. 

You help your roommate pack the sheet music carefully, preparing yourself to say forced goodbyes and shake a few hands. 

You can feel Harry's presence before he even says a word. 

"The songbird has a bedtime," you start first, not bothering to look up at him.

God, you know he's grinning. "Good. A songbird needs beauty rest. I can't see how looking so… radiant wouldn't require hours of sleep."

You hum, finishing up. But he catches your arm and places a piece of paper in your hand. 

You pause, finally turning your head to see him watching you like you're an addiction he has a craving for.

And your eyes dart to the paper, seeing it as a folded check. "Mr. Castillo, you already paid-"

"I know. Think of it as a tip. Tonight was wonderful and you made it so."

Your head tilts, eyes flashing with something. "You trying to tame me, Mr. Castillo?"

"No," he whispers, inching a bit closer, "No, I wouldn't dare." He takes a moment, decided where his bravery lies. Then, he closes the distance, kissing your cheekbone and then kissing your hand. "Goodnight."

…

The poor taxi driver. Your roommate could not contain her excitement. "He was like ALL over you! GOD the gorgeous babies that man would make with you! Please tell me you got his number!"

"No," you scoff. "I was working. This was all work related."

"Nothing about that man's eyes screamed work related."

…

The next day, there's a bit of a headache you're nursing. You're not sure why. Maybe a lack of sleep. Maybe the stress of the day before. But you stumble into the kitchen and start making the same shitty breakfast you always have. 

"Oh yeah, I said I'd split that job with you from last night," you remind your roommate. 

She laid across the couch, seemingly in the same mental position as you. Hand over her forehead. "Don't worry about it. Just buy me a couple drinks next time we're out."

You hum. "Well, I even got a tip. How about I at least split that with you?"

She sits up a bit. "How much?"

You shrug. "Haven't looked."

She's already darting for your coat pocket where you left it last night. She scrambles, pulling it out and unfolding it. You see her eyes open wide. "Holy shit."

"What?"

Her eyes just stay on the page. "Like Holy shit."

"Oh my god, just-" you round the counter, peering over her shoulder at it. Then it's your turn to gawk. "Fuck."

You're dialing the number at the top left of the check quickly, spatula in one hand as you nurse your scrambled eggs, phone in the other. 

"You've reached Castillo Enterprises. How may I help you today?"

"Uh, yeah. Hi. I need to talk to Harry Castillo."

"Oh. Well, is this a matter of canceling an appointment or meeting?"

"No. I need to speak to him about a matter-"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Castillo is a busy man. Shall I take a message?"

"No. No. I'll just… forget it. Thank you."

You drop your phone on the counter, eyes trained on the pan on the stove. 

The odds of a busy man like him calling you back is far too slim. There was no point in leaving a message. 

No. You learned years ago that most things can just be taken care of in person.

So you finish your breakfast, rushing to look decently professional before getting in your car. 

…

Castillo Enterprises is a huge fucking building. One you can't see the top of when you're standing in front of it. 

It's all glass, and you see your reflection staring back. You're far from what you looked like last night, but you'd at least managed to slap a little makeup on before you left. 

Clutching your purse, you take a deep breath and step inside. 

You go to the first desk you see, the one placed in the middle of the room for lost souls like yourself. "Hi, I'm here to see Harry Castillo?"

The secretary is a young girl, one who clearly hates confrontation. "34th story. Elevators are that way."

So off you are again, check weighing heavily in your purse. 

You stumble your way around to another desk. A secretary you recognize the voice of. You know you're getting closer since she's the one you spoke on the phone to. "Hi-"

"-You're the woman on the phone," she acknowledges. "As I said before, Mr. Castillo is very busy. He can't see you today."

"I know that but I just need to return a check that was written to me."

Her eyes suddenly widen with realization. "You're the singer from the gala. Sorry, but we can't accept that check back."

"Why not? There's nothing wrong with it."

"Mr. Castillo told me not to accept a returning check from you if you were to come in today."

You gawk for a moment before you get angry. "You know what? Where the fuck is he?"

"As I said before-"

"No. Where is he right now?"

There's a silent standoff that's broken as quickly as it starts. "Cathy, get the Westons a meeting with me t-" Harry pauses, eyes set on you. "Hi," he breathes. 

You scoff. "Ten thousand dollars? Are you fucking serious?"

His face falls, confusing written clearly over it. "What do you m-"

"Don't!" You growl. You dig the check out of her purse, holding it out between two fingers. "Take it back."

He recoils from it like it's poisonous, hands up. "I already gave it to you."

"Really? The fuck are you trying to do, be my sugar daddy? You don't even know my fucking name."

There's a moment where he looks around, a bit embarrassed to be making such a scene at his work. But another part of him doesn't care. His main focus is the woman in front of him. His voice is careful and calculated. "I was only trying to appreciate a songbird. Forgive me if I was too forward. But please, accept it this once."

"For what?"

"Hm?"

Your eyes take in his dark blue suit, tailored just perfectly for him. "What… what do you want me to do? What are you paying me for?"

He frowns. "What? No. It's just… spending money. For you. I… I was doing something nice."

"No one is that nice."

He pauses. "God, you really are friends with Lucy, aren't you?"

"The fuck does that mean, Castillo?"

"Means you're untrusting! Just take the check."

"No," you push, holding it out again. "I don't want it."

When he recoils again, you take it back, holding it with both hands now. "I'll fucking tear it up all over this office floor."

He shrugs. "Fine. I'll mail you another by the end of the day."

"Fuck you."

He laughs. Actually laughs at that. "Consider me charity and I'm asking a favor of you."

You pause. 

"Just listen to my proposal. Accept the money-"

You scoff.

His head tilts. "- or go on a date with me."

The paper in your hands suddenly feel much heavier than it was before. 

At your pause, he shrugs. "Or do both."

"No," you scoff. "No. That is ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous about that?"

"I'm making a scene in the middle of the richest enterprise in New York in front of the richest man in New York, and you're asking me on a date?"

He nods. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You ask genuinely.

He shrugs. "I'm all business. I need a little more liveliness in my life."

"And you think I'd do that for you?"

"You already have."

You consider all of it. Your voice calms, "You can't tame me, you know."

He nods, "I would never try to."

And with that, you begin to tear the check into little pieces. The rug catches them, the dark gray contrasting with the little white papers. And he watches. Not the peices fall. But you.

You pull the strap of your purse higher on your shoulder and storm your way past him, content with your victory. 

But you pause, huffing as you turn and kiss him on the cheek. "Pick me up at 8."

He listens to your shoes against the expensive tile until you're gone.

"Yes ma'am," he whispers to himself.

................................................................

[haologram]

wish you were here 🪻 j.ww [m]

synopsis: you don't do long-distance. you never have, and you never will. not unless it's jeon wonwoo - and those chances are slim, as it is. genre: situationship au ; fluff, angst, suggestive themes. pairing: situationship!jeon wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 6.5k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: swearing, alcohol. drunken confessions, pining. kissing...that's about it. what to listen to: completely - jaehyun ; love of my life - harry styles ; sleepwalking - james arthur ; can't get you out of my head - johnny goth ; wish you were here - superm. author's note: after receiving that horrible enlistment message from pledis, i've decided to hurt myself even more! welcome back to haologram, where we wallow in despair. i know this might be similar to my previous wonwoo fic, except it's not at all because it's 10x shittier and if you say that then you hate me and you don't have to read this ♡ i'm so SAD AUGH !!! anyway, floral dividers are by @/saradika-graphics ! enjoy.

– TUESDAY, 10:52PM.

Message From: Jeon Wonwoo [Yesterday] [11:49PM] i know i don't deserve to tell you this [11:49PM] but i miss you [11:49PM] and i know you're asleep but i wish you were here.

You're barely reading your messages from the night before.

You turned your phone off when Mingyu started spam calling you. You saw, from Tzuyu's location, that they had all gathered at their favorite bar, likely buying hoards of liquor to drown the sudden plummet in their chests when Wonwoo dropped the bomb on them.

A bomb he dropped on you – over text.

A singular text message, less than a week ago.

Message From: Jeon Wonwoo [4 Days Ago] [9:21AM] hey…i'm leaving town next month for a while. i got a good job offer overseas, and i took it without considering anything else. i'm sorry, and i think we should end whatever this is. at least for now.

You hadn't replied, only sat on the edge of your bed and felt your chest constrict.

His job wasn't the issue. It'd never be the issue, you wanted him to succeed. You wanted him to feel fulfilled.

The issue was him…well, it was…

Ugh.

"Stupid men." You muttered to yourself, taking a swig out of the bottle in your hand. It was the nasty bourbon he liked, the one that burned your esophagus all the way down. Your stomach wasn't empty, per say – there was a bag of chips sitting next to you on the couch. It wasn't as enticing as it usually was, but you didn't care that the salt and vinegar didn't pair well with your drink of choice. A drink that reminded you of Wonwoo, and would be the only thing that would once he was gone.

Unless you counted the smell of his cologne in your sheets. Or the hoodie that's draped over your shoulders, the plaid boxer shorts that belong to him covering your upper thighs. Or the champagne mustard you keep in your fridge specifically for him. Or the toothbrush he keeps at your apartment, despite the two of you being nothing more than friends.

Friends that kiss. Friends that undress each other in a frenzy, aching to feel the warmth of each other's skin. Friends that risk it every time, the raw feeling of skin on skin far too euphoric to give up.

Friends that say I love you in mumbles as they kiss, as they undress each other, as they give themselves to each other without a second thought.

Friends that had each other at arm's length for the last three years: you, because you were afraid of being too much.

And him, afraid of not being enough.

"I hate him." You mumble wearily, fumbling with the remote to flip through shows. You don't like anything, your eyes stinging with tears as you switch streaming services. Your Amazon Prime screen is too bright, and you flip through your Continue Watching…

Only to see his favorite movie sitting there, right after the last episode you'd watched of Bad Girls Club – Dead Poets Society.

Sighing, you toss your remote to the side and slide the bottle of bourbon onto the coffee table. You lean your head back onto the couch, feeling the effects of the liquor start to sink into your bones as you rustle the bag of chips. Popping one in your mouth, you chew lazily as the tears begin to slip down your face, rolling into the shells of your ears as you swallow.

"Wish you were here. What a fucking sadist."

You don't do long distance. You never have, you never will. And now, knowing that Wonwoo was leaving – the chances of you ever giving it a go were slim to fucking none.

Knock knock.

You jolt, coughing around the remains of the chip. The bag tips over, kettle chips scattering over your couch as you curse under your breath. You swipe them all back into the bag, dusting your couch off and scrunching the bag at the opening. You take a quick swig of the bottle, making a noise of disgust as it goes down.

Knock knock.

"Coming, I'm coming! God." You're wobbly on your legs, and you force yourself to concentrate as you toss the bag of chips onto your dining table. Not bothering to look through the peephole, you unlock your door to an apologetic Kim Mingyu holding a tipsy Jeon Wonwoo tight to his hip.

"No." You shake your head, moving to close the door when Mingyu gives you a pleading look. "Please, Y/N. He won't stop crying about you, and I don't know what to do anymore. I'll literally wait in the parking lot if you can't calm him down. Please, help me out." "Mingyu, I'm too drunk for this right now." You pinch the bridge of your nose, holding onto the frame of your door to keep steady. You're lying – you're not even near drunk. You're probably just as tipsy as Wonwoo is, and that's enough for you to not want him in your apartment. It would only end badly.

"Please, Y/N." Mingyu begs, and Wonwoo is seemingly staring straight through you. "Don't hate me." He mumbles, and you can't help but look up at Mingyu through teary eyes. "I'll be right downstairs, Y/N. I promise." He assures you gently, carefully shoving Wonwoo into the threshold. Wonwoo stumbles into your apartment, toeing his boots off in the foyer and disappearing into your kitchen. "I promise, Y/N. I think he just misses you." "He ended things, Mingyu." You whisper, hearing the door to your refrigerator open. You hear him jostling around the jars of condiments, and Mingyu runs a hand through his hair as he nods.

"I know, sweetie. He told me." He winces, before rubbing his face in frustration. "I think…maybe just talk. I'll be here, I swear." He holds out his pinky, and you weakly link your own as he ruffles your hair with your other hand. "I got you." "Thanks…" You murmur, before moving back to shut the door. Mingyu takes his leave, quietly clambering down the wet stone steps as you turn back into your apartment. You peer slightly into your kitchen, seeing Wonwoo holding a butter knife between his teeth as he fumbles with your jar of strawberry jam. He's got the bag of bread open on top of a plate and your toaster is on, peanut butter rolled on the counter haphazardly. You roll your eyes, watching as he stares at the jar with confusion before sighing.

"Y/N!" He calls, taking the butter knife from his mouth. He leans against the pantry door, his cheeks flushed as he calls your name again. "Y/N! I need your help!" "Idiot." You mutter to yourself, walking into the kitchen. He doesn't say anything as you grab the jar, spinning the top off with ease and holding it back out to him. He holds the knife out to you.

"It tastes better when you do it." He mumbles, his eyes low as you scoff. "Please? I didn't have dinner." You grumble inwardly as you turn away from him, fishing another knife out of the drawer as he slides the other one into the sink. You tuck your chin into your chest as you take the bread out of the toaster, chewing your cheek as you spread the jam thickly.

"This is mine." He tugs on the hem of the hoodie you're wearing, and you glance down at the brown material covering your torso. You shrug.

"So?" "So, I want it back." "You're in my apartment, not in my good graces and I'm holding a knife. I wouldn't test your fucking luck tonight, Jeon." You grit, before swiping the knife on the edge of the bread to get the jam off. You open the peanut butter, flicking the cap towards the backsplash of your countertop when you feel his hands fisting the fabric as he leans into you.

"I want you back. You're mine, too." He rests his head on the back of your neck, and if he feels your shoulders tense, he says nothing. "I want you. Always." "You're drunk." You mutter, feeling tears sting your eyes as you swipe a thick layer of peanut butter onto the toast. He groans, his breath warm against your neck and you can smell a light layer of grapefruit tequila on it. You liked the taste of it off his tongue, not so much out of the bottle.

"I need you." He tugged absently at the hoodie, "I need you to know that I love you, Y/N." "You're drunk, Wonwoo." Rolling your eyes, you stick the bread together and slice the tip of the knife diagonally, making two triangles. He was an iffy guy, never one to finish a sandwich alone. "Here. Eat." He doesn't take the sandwich, and you feel his hands grip your hips before turning you around with ease. Your face screams disinterest, but you can feel your chest heating at his proximity and the way his peachy cologne fills your nose. You meet his eyes, raising a brow as you take in the glassy look of his. "You're drunk." "I've had three shots and a beer, I am not drunk. I love you."

"Stop saying that." You shove the sandwich closer to his face, a pointed look in your eyes. It's like the bourbon you'd been drinking did nothing, because you're hyper aware of his every move and the very feeling of your blood coursing through your body. "Stop saying things you don't mean." "I've always meant it. I'll always mean it and I'll always feel it. I love you." He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he kneads his hands into your hips. You swallow a sob, feeling the ache in your throat as you look up to will away the tears threatening to fall.

"You dumped me." You forced your voice not to tremble, cursing yourself internally as a tear slipped. You wipe it away quickly, and he nods frantically. "I know, honey. I know, I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry." He buries his face into your neck, and you can feel his own tears begin to soak through the thick fabric. You sniffle, letting yourself breathe out around the lump in your throat shakily. "Please, forgive me. I'll beg. I'll do it, just don't leave me." "I've never left you, idiot." You scoff, staring at the sandwich in your hand. You make no effort to comfort him, to run your nails down his back in soothing spirals like you would before you would fall asleep facing each other. You make no effort to soothe him, his shoulders trembling as he cries into your (read: his) sweater. You let your tears stream freely, feeling Wonwoo's arms wrap tightly around your waist and pull you impossibly closer to him. 

You've always been weak when it comes to Wonwoo. You proved it time and time again: when he needed you to fill the girlfriend role at his graduation party a few years ago so his aunt would stop trying to set him up with one of the neighborhood girls. When he kissed you in a fit of jealousy at a bar in front of a nice boy who was trying to buy you a drink, and you let him take you home. When he undressed you with ease in the comfort of his bedroom and sank his teeth into any part of your body he could reach in bouts of possession, any time you'd go over.

Something you never understood, because you weren't his. Not really, not ever.

"I love you, Y/N." "You're drunk. Sleep on the couch, we'll see how much you actually 'love' me in the morning." You mutter, shoving him off your body. You can't bring yourself to look at him, so you hold the sandwich up to his face, "Open." He pushes your hand away, "I love you." "Wonwoo–" "No, Y/N. I love you. I love you and I'm sorry. Please, let me love you the way you deserve and if I can't live up to it, I'll walk out of your life forever." His arms are still loosely wrapped around your waist, and he pulls you close. Your hands are squished between his body and yours, and you sigh inwardly. He plucks the sandwich from your hand, putting it back on the plate as he sniffles.

"Please. Just give me another chance." "You're leaving, Wonwoo. You're leaving me behind."

"Come with me. I'll buy your ticket, I'll even get someone to take over your lease and we can be together, I promise–" You cut him off with a shake of your head, closing your eyes.

"You're leaving. That's enough to want to move on, isn't it? You don't love me, Wonwoo. You love the thought of me." You mutter, "You love knowing I'm always here. You love knowing that I wait for you, time and time again. You love knowing that even when you fail, I show up." You open your eyes, peering up at him with a bit of poison dripping in your voice.

"You love having someone, it doesn't matter who it is. So find someone else." He doesn't reply, a single tear rolling down his cheek as he tilts his head to the side. His eyes narrow slightly, his arms loosening around your body. You move back a bit, your lower back hitting the edge of the counter as you cross your arms and look away. "How can I prove to you that that's not true?" You scoff, rubbing your face with one hand. It feels hot, and you're not sure if it's from the alcohol or the closing proximity between his chest and yours.

"Tell me. I'll do it. I'll do anything." His hands are on either side of you now, gripping the counter gently as his teary eyes scan your face. For a hint, for an emotion, anything that says you want him too.

You shake your head, feeling your chest constrict as you clear your throat. "There's nothing you can do, Wonwoo." "I'll rescind my offer. I'll drop it." He tested, and you shook your head slowly.

"There is nothing, Wonwoo. And I wouldn't want you to lose out on a major opportunity just because–"

"You are the major opportunity I'm missing out on. I took the fucking job because I couldn't stand the idea of not being enough for you. I couldn't stand laying in my room and thinking that one day you'll realize what a fucking coward I am and pick someone else. It was never about the fucking job, Y/N. It's about me not being enough for you, but still wanting to have my cake and eat it, too."

His eyes are full of sincerity, but something inside you burns.

"How can you say that about yourself?" You whispered, your eyes filling with tears as you looked up at him. "How can you think that, Wonwoo? Not enough? For me?"

He breathes out, looking at the ground between the two of you. Your socks are his, too.

"How can you not? How can you stand here, in my sweater and my boxers and my socks and tell me that you don't? Tell me that I'm a coward, tell me that I keep running from the things I love because I want to be enough and when I finally return, it'll be of no use. I'm trying to…I want…This is hard for me. Tell me it's not enough just to love you, and I'll do whatever it takes. Please." You can hardly see him through your tears, the vision of the broken man in front of you blurred just like many of your drunken memories with him. But you remember every single one. Every kiss, every caress, every drunken I love you. Every sober I love you.

Every single time Wonwoo showed up for you – when you needed a date to an office party so your coworkers would stop hounding you about going on a date with Hyesung from Finance. When you went on a trip with your sister and got stuck in the woods, and he drove over eight hours to get to you. When he picked you up from the shittiest date known to man, and drove you to his apartment – only to change you out of your uncomfortable dress and take you out for ice cream.

When he said I love you, every single time you needed him. Even if no one else was listening, even if you were both fully clothed and sitting in his car listening to music.

"Please." "We should talk in the morning. I'm tipsy, you're tipsy…" You trail off, your hands coming to rest on your eyes. The cool feeling of your fingertips was enough to get you to stop crying, "This is too much for right now. You're still leaving." "You're the only reason I'd stay." He admits quietly, his voice thick as you cross your arms again. You stand upright, tilting your head towards the sandwich on the plate. "Eat. I'll clean up the couch for you." He lets you slip out of the kitchen without a word, but you can feel the heat of his gaze on the back of your head. You're silent as you walk around your apartment, gathering your thickest blankets and a few pillows for him to rest on when you hear your phone buzzing incessantly on the coffee table.

Incoming call: Kim Mingyu

"Hello?" You tuck the phone between your shoulder and your cheek, and hear a sigh of relief.

"You okay? You didn't tear each other to shreds?" His voice is meek, making you snort.  "It's fine, he's just tipsy. He's sleeping on the couch. I'll call you in the morning?" "You sure? I can come get him right now." You glance up, seeing Wonwoo staring at the calendar on the wall in your dining room. "Nah. Goodnight, Mingyu." "Keep me posted." You hang up, tossing the phone over your shoulder and moving the cushions around. You don't pay him any mind as he walks towards the bathroom, figuring he's going to brush his teeth. Fluffing pillows, you listen quietly as the water turns off and on, and the sound of the toothbrush moving back and forth.

You cap the bottle of bourbon and put it back on the second layer of the coffee table, where Wonwoo usually left it. You turn your television off, leaving the remote on the arm of the couch in case he wanted it or woke up in the middle of the night and wanted something to entertain him.

You turned off your lights, leaving the overhead stove light on for Wonwoo. It was odd to make up the couch for him – he never slept there, always in your bed. He'd wash his face, brush his teeth and snuggle into your side.

Walking towards your bedroom, you see him fishing out a pair of sweatpants from your last drawer and undoing his belt simultaneously. You roll your eyes, ducking into the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. You let your mind wander as you do so, quietly doing your night routine and hearing Wonwoo walk about.

It brought you some comfort, hearing the floorboards creak under him.

Sighing, you looked at yourself in the mirror as you wiped the wet sink down. Eyes swollen and red from the tears, the shoulder of your sweater damp from Wonwoo. Wrinkled around the waist, from his grip on it.

You turned the light off, tucking your hands into the pocket of the hoodie and slipping into your bedroom. 

Only to see him lying on your bed, under your purple duvet. His glasses are still on, but his eyes are closed.

"Wonwoo." "Mmh." "Wonwoo, go on the couch. You're not sleeping here tonight." You tapped his shoulder, only for him to hum in response. "Wonwoo. I'm serious." He peels an eye open, "I never sleep on the couch. I didn't sleep on the couch that one time everyone stayed over because they were too drunk to drive, you got me used to a life of luxury. Don't take it from me." You huff, crossing your arms on your chest as he closes his eye.

"Get in and shut up." "Yeah, right. Wonwoo, out." "No." "Wonwoo!" You groan in frustration, stomping your foot petulantly. You knew him. You knew he was stubborn as a fucking mule. "This is my apartment, I am not sleeping on the couch!" "Wow, crazy." He replies lazily, before plucking his glasses off his face and sliding them onto your nightstand. "Goodnight, Y/N." "Jeon Wonwoo, so help me God–"

He turns on his side, bringing the duvet further up on his shoulder as you gape at him.

Rubbing your face angrily, you round the bed and slide in. You turn your back to him, "Stay on your side." He doesn't respond.

– WEDNESDAY, 2:48AM.

You can't fall back asleep.

Instead, you're laying in bed facing Wonwoo – who did not stay on his side. Your leg had been pulled over his hip, his hand splayed across your lower back, under your sweater.

You were counting his eyelashes as he slept.

"You're a pain in my ass, you know that?" You start, your voice soft so as to not stir him. "You're a pain in my ass every single day, Jeon Wonwoo. You come into my life right when I'm going through one of the biggest transitions of my life, and you kiss me in the backseat of an Uber Pool. But no, you couldn't let it stop there, could you? You had to help me move into my apartment. You had to welcome me to the neighborhood, you couldn't just be the weird one-night-stand I met at a bar while celebrating my big move to the city. I would have never thought you'd be so outgoing." Your hand moved to gently brush his hair out of his face, your thumb moving down his sideburns gently before you traced the shell of his ear.

"And then you just kept coming around. I don't know what it was that made you keep coming over, and at first I thought nothing of it. I was fine with the sex, with the shared meals, and having a companion. You were nice, and you showed me a bunch of places, and you took pictures of me and helped me get them framed. Then you introduced me to Mingyu, and oh God. He's a whirlwind, isn't he? I love that guy." You sigh, lightly swiping your knuckles across his cheek as he breathes in quietly. "I love knowing you. I think it took me a minute to understand you better. We were never really just friends, but you made it feel like one of the most fulfilling friendships I'd ever had when we weren't fooling around. You engaged me, and you shared your passions with me. You drove me around when I didn't have a car, and I'll never forget when I called you scared out of my mind during that trip with my sister. You came. It took you eight hours but you came and I can't imagine ever not having you." Tears well up in your eyes, and you wipe them quickly before they can drop onto him. 

"I love you, Wonwoo. Even if you're leaving. Even when I think I'm too much, you don't hesitate to calm that storm before it's even come to the surface. You've always been so gentle, and I can't imagine someone like you looking at someone like me, the complete opposite of you, and wanting that. I won't say for the rest of your life, because you're still going to be gone in a few weeks. But right now, at this moment, you're here. With me. And I love you."

You sniffle slightly, pressing your lips to his hairline in a featherlight kiss before closing your eyes. Your nose barely brushes his as you do, and you feel more tears slip out as you mumble again.

"I'll miss you." You don't see the crystalline tear slide down his face and sink into the pillow.

– WEDNESDAY, 3:15AM.

"I hate it when you cry. You always say you look bad, but you don't." Wonwoo's eyes are glued to your face, so close to his he can count every eyelash you have. His lips touch yours slightly as he speaks, but he can't bring himself to move back and risk waking you up.

"You'd never be too much for me. I was made to love you, even if you don't believe me. I said I'd walk out of your life forever if you didn't believe me, but I lied. I could never do that, and I've never felt more seen by someone in my entire life." He can't touch your face like you did him, because your arm is wrapped around his shoulder and your hand is nestled in his hair. He's satisfied with the warmth of your back on his palm, his thumb tracing light circles into it. He's satisfied with this, wanting to kiss you so deeply that he's the only thing you can taste for days.

He wants to be the only one who kisses you. For the rest of your life.

"I gave up the offer. You're going to be mad when I tell you, but I'd rather ask your forgiveness than have you think I wouldn't give up everything to have you. I'd give the shirt off my back in a winter storm in the middle of Minnesota if it meant I'd have you forever…but that would also probably mean death, so. I guess I'm saying I'd die for you." Your face scrunches suddenly, and you shift in your sleep. Your hand in his hair slides down, your fingertips breaching the collar of his shirt. He stops breathing as you run your nails across his skin gently, before it snakes back up to his hair. Your thumb moves in a circular motion behind his ear, before it stops and he feels a soft exhale from your lips.

Years of confessing to you in your sleep tell him you're still out.

"I love you, more than anything. I love that you keep champagne mustard in the fridge for me after I said I liked it once. I love that you called me when you needed that date to that office party, even if it was to get your coworkers off your back. To call you mine, in front of other people and even just have a taste of the idea…it ruined me. I can't think of anything else, with anyone else but you. Being in love with you feels like I'm constantly unwrapping a gift, but the wrapper is the gift. It makes you, it's everything you are." Wonwoo sighs, and your face shifts closer to him. Your forehead touches his, and he's sure if he says anything else, he'll be kissing your lips.

A reward so sweet, that he has yet to deserve.

But he speaks anyway, and hopes your heart hears him.

"You don't have to miss me. I'm here. Please, only miss me when I'm at work. Only miss me when I'm not able to come over because Mingyu conned me into going out with him and the guys. Only miss me when I'm asleep and can't talk to you, but know I dream of you. Know that everything I am is you, and even when you're asleep next to me, I wish you were here. Talking, telling me every thought that comes across your mind. I love it, I love knowing you. I love you, Y/N." He adjusts slightly, his nose bumping yours slightly but his lips no longer aligned with yours.

"Please, only miss me when I'm actually gone. Wish for me and I'll appear, my love." His eyes close, the sting of tears overwhelming as he buries himself into you as best as he can.

"I love you. Please, love me, too."

He doesn't see the pout on your lip when you hear him sniffle.

– WEDNESDAY, 5:53AM.

You're awake again, despite your protests to whatever God was out there.

Wonwoo is also awake, his eyes glued to your necklace. A chain, actually, that you stole from him a year ago. Classic. You're both frozen in position, your fingers tangled in his hair and his still on your back. Neither of you have said anything, and you're waiting for your alarm to go off so you can have an excuse to worm yourself out of his grasp. You have nowhere to go. You work from home, Wonwoo knows that.

"You work today." Your eyes glance down, seeing Wonwoo still staring at your neck. His voice is nice and raspy in the morning, and your fingers tighten in his hair out of reflex. He winces, and you grimace, rubbing the back of his head in apology.

"I do." He doesn't say anything, instead wiggling slightly to meet your eyes. He looks up at you, tired eyes scanning your face before he closes them. He hums. "Can we talk before you jump out and run with the excuse?" He murmurs, and you nearly scoff – when you realize he knows every trick in your book. You frown at yourself, before sighing. His eyes open, and you reach behind him to grab his glasses. He doesn't budge as you silently brush his hair out of his face, sliding them over his ears before settling back.

"...I suppose." "I love you." You feel your breath hitch in your chest, and you move to pull away from him when he shakes his head, holding you tightly to him. "Please, stay." His lips are too close to yours for you to say anything without brushing them. The ache to kiss him is deep in your stomach, but you will it away with a sigh.

"I love you." "I know, Wonwoo." "I love you so much, Y/N." He mumbles, his hand sliding out from under your sweater to your thigh, high on his hip. He pulls you impossibly closer, "It'd be selfish of me to want a life without you, when I know you feel the same."

You look away, your eyes glued to your headboard as you try to speak around the lump in your throat.

"What does it matter? You're leaving." His hand moves to your jaw, gently squeezing your cheeks together when you glance back down at him.

"I'm not, I won't be making that mistake again."

He presses his lips to yours, inhaling your soft sob as you kiss him back as best you can. He pushes you onto your back gently, never disconnecting his lips from yours as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him flush to you. Your fingers find home in his hair, earning a soft groan into your mouth as you tug lightly. "I love you. Please, please believe me." His forehead is pressed to yours, lips brushing yours as he speaks. Your eyes dart all over his face, and you choose to swallow your insecurities. You choose to allow it – if he wants to love you, flaws and all…

It's his prerogative.

"Please." He begs, his hand cradling your jaw gently as he molds his lips to yours chastely. He holds you like you'll break, with such care as you look up at him. "Love me, too. Please."

"I heard you, earlier. When you said you rescinded the offer." You murmur, watching as he nods carefully. "You need to fix that. You need to take that job." He shakes his head, "No. I want to–" "You need to take it, Wonwoo." You repeat yourself, your eyes pointed as your hand wraps around his wrist. His eyes are full of worry, ignoring the way your thumb against his wrist tickles and the way your warmth against him is making his head spin. You look hesitant, but breathe out gently as you speak.

"I'll still be here. I promise, I'll still love you then." You whisper, watching as he nibbles on his lip before ultimately shaking his head. "I can't." "You can, and you will, Jeon Wonwoo."

"I can't. You'll be here and I'll be there…I couldn't even go a week without seeing you, what makes you think I can go six months?" He groans, slumping his forehead against your collarbone. You hum, running your hand through his hair.

"Well for one, I'm hoping things are more than just this–" "They are! They are, I love you. Please, be mine. Be my girlfriend." He jolts up, making you snort as he squishes your face with his hands, "Say yes. Say yes right now, before I lose my mind." "You could ask me over breakfast, at least. We could shower–" "Can you just answer?" "Together." His insistence stops, and he acts nonchalant as he leans back, his hands sliding on your thighs. He shrugs, tonguing his cheek, "I mean, if you insist. Together, and all." "You're such a fucking loser." You kick his hip lightly, making him huff as he pushes your foot away. "Go, start the water." You shove him away gently, and he casually slides off the bed, stretching his arms over his head. You look at the clock on your nightstand, 6:17AM. You furrow your brow, reaching for your phone and seeing your alarms had been turned off.

"What the hell?" "Oh, I turned them off last night when you were brushing your teeth." Wonwoo squeals as he sprints out of your bedroom, followed by a throw pillow being chucked after him. It hits the doorway as he skids into your bathroom. 

"Missed me!" "You're dead when I get in there, Wonwoo!" It's silent for a second, before you hear the water start running…

And the lock click.

"I love you, too!"

– 2 MONTHS LATER: CHICAGO, ILLINOIS.

"Whoever said long distance was easy fucking lied." Wonwoo grumbles into the phone, "My paid week off isn't for another three weeks and I feel like I'm losing my mind. I wish you were here, sweetheart." He leans back in his desk chair, the clock reading 9:32PM. You're on the subway, he thinks. You've got a Pilates class you take during your lunch hour.

"I know, honey. Hey, on the plus side, I sent you a care package! There's lots of good stuff in there, it should arrive soon. I checked the tracking." Your voice is kind of strained as you talk, and Wonwoo frowns. 

"The time difference is also a bitch. I'm about to go to bed and you're not even halfway through your day. You've got Pilates today, right?" He clicks around on his laptop, pulling up your shared calendar. He squints, seeing an added red section marked MINGYU lasting through the next three weeks. "What's going on with Mingyu?" "The time difference does fucking suck, I agree. As for Pilates, my instructor actually overbooked my session. She won't refund me, that old hag." You scoff, "Mingyu is going out of town, and he wanted me to see if Tzuyu needed anything. Tzuyu told me in the politest way possible that she wanted me to fuck off because she's going to spend her entire week sleeping. God, I wish that were me."

"Agreed. I've gotta get going, honey. If I don't go to bed now, I'll fuck my sleep schedule and this weekend is the only free one I have. I might go some places, pick some stuff up for you." He nods to himself, and you hum in response.

"I miss you."

He feels his heart sink. "We agreed we wouldn't say that, Y/N."

"I know, it's just…ugh."

"I'll be out there in three weeks. Before you even know it, I promise." Wonwoo rubs his eyes, seeing his doorbell pick up some movement on the app. "Hang on, I think your care package is here." "Ooh, unbox it with me! I wanna see the reaction." He laughs, "I'll send you a video. You need to get your camera fixed, this phone call shit is ridiculous." "Pay for it to get fixed, man! All that work abroad and nothing for the lonely sugar baby at home." You chide, making him snort.

"The most I've got to give you is all going to the ticket back to Seoul. You'll get some sugar soon. Hang on." He stands up, stretching his hands over his head as he walks to his door. He can still hear your disgusted sound from the foyer, and he peeks out his peephole to see no one on his doorstep but the box. He opens the door cautiously, the hinges in desperate need of ointment when he feels someone looking at him. He glances up, seeing you leaned against the wall in his brown hoodie, with your duffel bag swung over your shoulder. "Think you can give me that sugar now?"

He gapes, "You…I'm…Y/N." "Is that a no? After I flew all this way here?" You fold your arms across your chest, rolling your eyes with a flair of sass. "God, Wonwoo. You are the one that said wish for me, and I'll appear. I am here! I appeared!"

You're right, he did say that.

"Your phone camera isn't broken, is it?" He crosses his arms, and you grin, holding out your phone that's in perfect condition. "And Mingyu's at your place, isn't he?" "He wanted to deep clean my apartment! What was I supposed to do, say no?" You shrug, and Wonwoo just scoffs as he reaches for you, pulling you towards him by your belt loop. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "I missed you, Wonwoo." "I missed you, too. How long are you here?" He pushes the two of you into the apartment, inching the care package into the foyer before slamming the door with his foot. "Three weeks." You murmur against his lips, moving your arm to slip your duffel bag onto the floor. He hums in response, his hands gripping your waist as he maneuvers the two of you to his bedroom. 

"Hungry?" "Nope." "Tired?" "Maybe when we're done."

Wonwoo doesn't do long distance. He never has, and he thought he never would. And now, knowing that you are the distance away that he needs to brace himself for – the chances of him ever giving it a go were undeniable.

He'd go days without seeing you, as long as you still loved him. He'd go weeks, months even, without seeing you as long as he still heard your voice before he went to bed and as he made his commute to work. He'd go years without seeing you, as long as he could wish you were there and you'd appear.

Yeah. Wonwoo does long distance. And so do you.

haologram © 2025 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[qqueenofhades]

I don’t have any words right now for what’s happened. Where in the fuck do we go from here?

I don't know. I really, truly don't know. We can't sugarcoat how bad things are going to get, and we can't pre-emptively give into it anyway. This is going to be an unprecedented time in American history (if, sadly, not world history) and the forces conspiring to make you obey will gain much of their power from you doing so in advance, without a struggle. It seems fair to say that America as it has always been historically constituted is over, and may not return in our lifetimes, but we also do not know that for a fact. If nothing else, the fascists will find it very hard to cancel competitive elections, and we cannot sit back, throw up our hands, conclude that voting is clearly meaningless, and let them do that. There are a lot of other things that we need to do, but that's one.

There are various postmortems to be written and nits to pick, but Harris was thrown into an impossible situation and did the best she could in 100 days. Even her critics agree she ran a pretty much flawless campaign. But this country simply decided that a well-qualified black woman could not be preferred over the most manifestly and flagrantly unfit degenerate to ever occupy the office. They decided this for many reasons, not least because large swathes of the country now live in curated misinformation bubbles that, under Government Czar Musk, will only get much, much worse. They were helped by the cowardice and complicity of the "mainstream media" that could have ended Trump's career exactly like they did to Biden after the first debate, but chose to preserve the profits of their billionaire oligarch owners and did not do so, giving Trump the benefit of the doubt and normalization at every turn. They also hounded Biden relentlessly over the four years of his presidency, never reported on the good things he did, and drove him to the historically bad approval ratings lows for a president who was by any metric, quite successful (and will quite possibly be our last ordinary American president for a very long time). Along with the searingly ingrained racism and misogyny and misinformation, Harris could not overcome that.

Democrats clearly had a messaging problem, but it's also true that the country, quite simply, does not care about "democracy" when the economy is perceived to be at stake. Not to over-egg the Hitler parallels, but yeah. This is how Hitler returned to power in 1933 -- on the backs of widespread economic collapse of the Weimar Republic; voters decided they just didn't care about the overtly fascist stuff, which he then proceeded to you know, do with genocidal vigor. Except the American economy in this case was actually doing well, which makes it even more baffling and indefensible. Enough people simply memory-holed Trump's crimes (aided at every turn by SCOTUS, Mitch McConnell not convicting him after January 6, Merrick Garland being far too slow and timid, the corporate media), liked the racist fascist behavior or felt that it wasn't a dealbreaker, and decided that in this election, he was the "change" candidate. It's insane by any metric, but that's what happened.

The country is deeply sick. We do not know what will happen. It's going to get bad. Barring a miracle, we will not have federalized abortion rights again in my lifetime, and there will be widespread attacks on public health, women's rights, immigrants, transgender people, and other vulnerable people. Even and especially the ones who voted for Trump. Never Thought Leopard Would Eat My Face, etc. Alito and Thomas will swiftly step down and allow their seats to be replaced by 40-year old wingnuts hand-selected from the worst the Federalist Society has to offer. SCOTUS is gone for the next generation at least. There is very little prospect of it being ever fixed in the foreseeable future.

Trump will never face a scintilla of consequences for his previous crimes; all the open federal cases will be closed as soon as he takes office and fires Jack Smith. The best we can hope for is that he dies in office, but then we get Vance and the cadre of alt-right techno billionaires ruled directly from the Kremlin. Putin is celebrating this morning and with good reason; he's gotten everything he wants. Trump will egg on Netanyahu in Gaza and abandon Ukraine. Democracy across the world will remain even more fragile and badly under threat. Authoritarians will be empowered and American withdrawal from international systems will percolate in very dangerous ways that cannot and will not be fixed in the short run. I really hope all the leftists who celebrate this as the "defeat of the genocide candidate" will enjoy all the genocide and suffering that's about to come. And yes, I do think the Israel-Palestine war fucked us in a large way. Jewish voters perceived the Democrats as insufficiently pro-Israel due to the presence of far-left antisemitism, even as the far left attacked the Democrats relentlessly and never targeted the Republicans. Arab voters abandoned them, possibly deservedly. What would have happened without the war? We don't know. You get the historical period that you get. Netanyahu and Trump can now do anything they want. Hope it was worth it.

As I said, I can't sugarcoat it. We are going to be paying for this in some form for the next decade, and probably longer. I'm not as absolutely shattered as I was in 2016, but I am much, much angrier. We all thought, we all hoped, America was better than this. It isn't. That, however, is something that has also happened before. What we decide to do next will shape how the next chapter unfolds.

This would be a great time to stock up on needed medicines, renew your passport online, and anything else you need to do in preparation for next year. Many of us simply do not have the wherewithal, whether financial or otherwise, to leave the country. I don't know what will happen with me. I don't know what will happen to any of us. This was utterly avoidable and yet, America didn't want to avoid it. At some point, there's nothing else you can do. You can point to media cronyism, Russian influence, etc etc., but the fact that two of the most qualified presidential candidates who happened to be women have now lost to Trump twice makes it unavoidable. The virulent rightward shift of young men (of all races) in particular paints a grim picture as to how the reactionary misogyny of the 21st century is going to essentially undo most of the progress for social and gender equality in the 20th. The patriarchy has been a problem for most of human history. Doesn't really seem like it's going to change.

The end result of this, however grim: we're still here. We are still living within our communities. If (and this is a big if) Democrats can retake the House, they can put some checks on the process for the next two years. At this point, we are in full-out buying-time, trying-to-prevent-the worst mode. We could have continued fixing things, but we won't be doing that. We will only be trying to preserve ourselves and our friends and our smaller spheres of influence. It sounds very trite to say that we have to have courage, but we do. There's not much else.

It's going to be an awful winter. We have two and a half months to see this coming and know how bad it's going to be, and... yeah. I don't know how soon the buyer's remorse will inevitably set in, but it will. Tough luck, people. You voted for him. You get the country that you decide to have. But the rest of us are also here, and what Gandalf says is still true. We wish the Ring had never come to us, we wish none of this had happened, but we still have to decide what to do with the time that is given to us.

I don't have a lot more. I'll probably be logging off for a while. I don't need to look at the internet for.... yeah, a long time. (Will I do it anyway? Probably.) I don't know what else to leave you with, aside from again:

Do not obey in advance. Do not act as if everything is foreordained and set in stone. Fascist regimes end. They always do. We are going to have to figure out how, and it will suck shit, but the alternative is worse.

Take care of yourselves. I love you.

[w2soneshots]

could you do something like the 24hr karting race and shes a driver for senor frogs, she finishes her stint and then like the new video they couldnt find the bed in the rv or whatever so they go into quadrants and theres only one bed and both her and harry need sleep si they have to share?? sorry im so bad at explaining

We’ll have to share -W2S

words: 1.5k+

warnings: unestablished relationship, spooning.

summary: while filming the annual señor frogs 24 hour go cart race you and Harry end up having to share a bed, but nether of you mind since your both majorly crushing on the other.

notes: hello love!🤗 I decided to write this asap even though I have so many requests but I wanted to get this out before everyone gets over the señor frogs high (If you get what I’m saying?). Anyways, enjoy!!💓🏎️

Today I'm driving for señor frogs in the annual twenty four hour go cart race. I woke up early this morning, took a quick shower, got ready, packed a small bag and then set off. It took almost two hours to get to Buckmoore Park and I arrived just after ten, ready for the practice that starts at ten thirty.

I've know the boys for years and are good friends with them all. After they dropped Callux from the team they asked if I would participate this year and after seeing how fun it looked last year I couldn't say no. I've done lots of practice in the last few weeks and I'm actually pretty good. I used to race with my friends for fun when I was younger but that's about all the experience I've had.

When I arrived I parked my car then signed in at the front desk. "Hey! You're here!" Chip's voice echoed through the reception. A smile spread across my face. We shared a quick hug then he walked me to our green room.

Harry, Chris, Will and Freezy stood talking. They turned to me as we entered. "Hi guys!" I set my bag down. I glanced at Harry, he smiled softly at me. They all said their "hello's" then we started talking about the plan for the twenty four hours.

Unfortunately the weather forecast wasn't ideal since it was supposed to rain for almost the entire time but that made it more interesting and fun to watch.

We sent Chip and Plum out for the practice and once that was done it was time for the race to begin. We were starting off with Chris. After getting into our suits all of us walked out onto the track. I pulled mine down so that it rested at my waist and I wore a comfortable black tank top underneath.

Once we'd finished doing some interviews the group headed back upstairs onto the balcony to watch as the race began. As soon as the flag was waved Chris raced over to the cart, accidentally kicking another racer on the way. Harry pushed the cart to give him a boost then he drove swiftly off, along with everyone else.

When twelve am hit it was finally my turn. I suited up and grabbed my helmet. I stepped outside onto the deck, Harry just behind me (who'd already done his first stint, just before Plum went out). "Jesus Christ it's hammering it down." I looked out at the soaked and slippery track. He placed his hands on my shoulder, squeezing. "You'll be fine," he reassured me.

I quickly walked down the stairs, taking a deep breath when I got to the bottom. I looked back up at Harry. He put his two thumbs up. I smiled softly, nodding. "I can do this. Let's hope I don't completely embarrass myself." I thought.

"Nervous?" The camera man asked as I waited. "To be honest I'm shitting myself," I replied with a shaky laugh. Plum pulled in and immediately jumped out, he gave me a quick wave as I passed him. I adjusted the seat insert, got in and then drove off.

As soon as I set off I heard Freezy in the earpiece. He was talking about what place I was and how carful I needed to be on the turns. I could barely concentrate since I was focusing on not spinning out and it didn't help that I couldn't really see out of my visor.

Around an hour in I'd gotten used to it and was now much calmer. I hadn't heard anything through the communications for a while then I suddenly heard Harry's voice. He told me that Freezy had gone for a snooze and that he was replacing him.

"That was really good, one minute nine seconds. Try and keep up that time," he said as I finished another lap. The rain was starting to pick up. "It's so fucking slippy!" I felt as though I wasn't in control, the wheels were spinning everywhere. I just desperately didn't want to spin out and let the boys down.

When I was finally told to come in I felt so relieved. I had no idea what place we were or how I'd done. I practically stumbled out, my legs and bum asleep from sitting in the same position for two hours. I pulled my helmet off as I passed Chip.

When I got to the boys I was met with what seemed to be happy faces. "We're fucking second place in class!" Freezy patted my back excitedly. Harry smiled wildly at me. "I told you you'd be fine." I smiled back at him, relieved that I hadn't fucked everything up.

I was completely soaked so I went to get changed into some comfy clothes that I could sleep in. Plum, Will and Chris had already gone to bed and me and Harry were going to do the same as it was now around two in the morning.

We walked together to quadrants bus, since there wasn't a proper bed in the one Chip had rented and they'd kindly said we could sleep in there's. When we got inside, out of the rain we quietly walked down the hall. I turned to look at him, my eyes slightly wider than a minute ago. "Is there only one bed left?"

"Shit. I think so," he replied before looking around to check again. "What are we gonna do?" I whispered. "Uh- you can have it." My brows knitted together. "No, don't be daft. They're pretty big... we could share?" I was really hoping I hadn't just embarrassed myself.

Harry's face turned red, though I couldn't really tell due to the dim lights. "Uh- uhm- yeah. Okay," he stuttered. I smiled slightly. "Come on then. I'm exhausted."

He got in first. It was slightly awkward since the last bed was at the bottom and practically on the floor. I slid in after, both now on our sides, my back facing his front. Turns out they were smaller than they looked.

Evidently Harry didn't know what to do with his hands, they were sort of hovering over my side. I smirked to myself then grabbed his hand, placing it around me my waist. I shuffled into him comfortably. I felt him physically relax. "You sure this is okay?" He asked quietly. "I'm sure."

I've had a massive crush on Harry since a few months ago when we spent the entire night together at a party nether of us wanted to be at. I laughed more than I had in a while that night and I really enjoyed spending time with him.

I was woken up a few hours later by Chip giggling. My eyes fluttered open and a small tired groan escaped from my lips. "You alright there love? Comfy?" He chuckled quietly, as people were still asleep. I was confused then I realised I was still pressed up against Harry.

Harry shuffled behind me, mumbling something and then shooting up. A loud bang was heard as he whacked his head on the roof of the bed. "Ow." He fell back onto the pillow and brought his hand up to rub his head. Chip laughed even more.

We got out and stood up. I sighed before glancing at Harry. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck, he looked slightly uncomfortable. Chip continued to tease us as we walked back to the green room and he immediately told Freezy and Chris that he'd found us asleep together.

"I knew it! You like each other!" Freezy exclaimed, standing up. My eyes widened. "Uh-" "you guessed it," Harry replied, interrupting me. My head snapped over to him. "You like me?" I blurted out. The room fell silent. "Uhm- yeah- yeah I think I do." My face softened. Freezy chuckled with a smirk.

It turns out they wanted Harry to get back in the cart once again, which he wasn't very happy about. But he ended up agreeing and he got back into his suit. I stood next to him on the balcony, both of us leaning our forearms on the barrier as we waited for the signal that it was his turn to go out.

"I like you too. Just so you know." I said, not taking my eyes off the track. "You do?" He turned to me, surprise evident on his face. I looked at him sincerely. "Mhm, ever since that party last month." A smile graced his lips. "So... did you wanna go for lunch or something after this?" He asked. "Are you asking me on a date Mr Lewis?" I teased. He chuckled. I gently nudged his side with my elbow. "I'd really like that."

"Harry! Time to go!" Chip shouted. I glanced at Chip then looked up at Harry, pushing onto my tiptoes and placing a quick kiss on his cheek. "Good luck!" I whispered. He smirked. "I'll see you in a bit." I nodded before patting his chest.

I watched as he quickly walked down the stairs then I turned to go back inside. I stopped as I noticed Freezy through the window. He raised his eyebrows with a mischievous look on his face. I groaned but I didn't really mind that he'd seen mine and Harry's encounter, all I could think about was the date I was going on in a few hours.

[drop-dead-dropout]

@plague-agent I DID IT I DID THE THING!!! sorry it took so long I literally ended up rewriting the whole thing and adding a semi-hopeful ending and it turned into a 2.2k words oneshot 😭😭😭 thanks for the motivation lol!!

ANYWAYS OVERLY ANGSTY KIMHARRY ONESHOT UNDER THE CUT SFHJFJNSYXGJVHB

edit: HELP I KEEP ADDING THINGS. KDJDHSNB WHATEVER IT'S MORE LIKE 2.5K WORDS NOW

"Really? Of all the things you could've put in there?"

You look up from your chocolate ice cream, into which you've decided to unceremoniously dump an entire bag of potato chips. "But I don't remember what I used to like with my ice cream! This could've been my favorite, for all I know!"

Kim wrinkles his nose in obvious disgust. "I seriously doubt that, detective," he mumbles, before raising a spoonful of tiramisu to his lips. He hums pleasantly at the taste. "I'm glad we came back here. This tiramisu has certainly redeemed that awful blueberry pie from last time."

"Hey, it's not the baker's fault he didn't account for your ridiculous sweet tooth! Honestly, Kim, shame on you, blaming an honest working-class business owner..." You shake your head sternly, as if telling off a misbehaved child.

DRAMA — You're a terrible actor, but it serves you well here. Kim finds it endearing.

COMPOSURE [Success] - Though his ears flush at the mention of his "sweet tooth"— an aspect of himself he finds silly and immature. He coughs awkwardly and goes back to his tiramisu, a bit too embarrassed to continue the conversation.

As you often do when silence lulls between the two of you for any stretch of time, you find yourself saying, "Hey. Hey, Kim. Tell me a secret, Kim."

He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. "Honestly, I'd think you knew enough about me by now."

"Never! As long as there are still things left to know, I'm going to keep asking."

EMPATHY — He gives you an odd look when you say that. I shouldn't be surprised by his curiosity anymore, he thinks, or his sincerity, for that matter. But sometimes...

He clears his throat. "Yes, well. Sometimes, it's good to not know everything."

You gasp playfully. "Fuck you, that's, like, the most mysterious thing you could've said! Now I want to know even more!"

"That's too bad," Kim says, sipping demurely at a cup of hot chocolate. "Since I won't be telling you."

With a frustrated groan, you take a bite of your ice cream. "Oh, hey! It's actually not bad!" As you tear into your dessert, Kim merely rolls his eyes with an unmistakable fondness.

SUGGESTION — Psst, Harry, over here. You're always asking Kim for secrets, but you don't really seem to get anywhere. Why not just ask us?

I can do that?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Success] — Oh yes, Harry-boy. Give me a turn, I could tell you all about speedfreak Kitsuragi over here. Did you know he pierced his—

VOLITION [Success] — No no, nothing like that. Please, not when he's right there. I don't trust our ability to keep our face neutral. No offense, Composure.

COMPOSURE — None taken. Trust me, I know better than anyone, it's a shitshow in here.

LOGIC — You could ask another one of us, though. I'm sure there's some sort of reasonable compromise here, it doesn't have to be inappropriate sexual fantasies or nothing.

You take another bite of ice cream, trying your best not to look like a deranged lunatic staring off into space. Kim doesn't look too concerned, though— he's used to this, and he appreciates the moments of mutual quiet, too. So what sort of things could you guys tell me? Which one of you should I pick?

SHIVERS [Success] — I could tell you about his life. I witnessed his childhood firsthand: summers and birthdays, mostly spent poor and alone. If you wanted, I could tell you things even he doesn't know— about the parents he never met, two young communard revolutionaries in love. I could tell you how they were killed, and who killed them, too.

SAVOIR FAIRE — Okay, that sounds like a huge bummer. Do me a favor and don't pick that one.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Success] — I could tell you about how he organizes his thoughts, lists and compartments and pages upon pages of notes, both in his notebook and, when it's not available, in his head. I've spent a lot of time pondering what it's like in there, and I think I've got an accurate guess.

INTERFACING — I like this one. It's not quite as interesting as ms. war-and-bloodshed's idea, but it's still good. Besides, learning how Kim approaches problem-solving might actually make us a better detective.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — I could tell you how he feels about you. As a partner, of course, anything more than that is beyond my area of expertise.

EMPATHY [Success?] — …

Woah, what's up with that?

EMPATHY [Failure] — I could tell you more. But... No, I'm sorry, I don't think I will. I can't be the one to show you the inner workings of his heart, I just can't, not when I know exactly how badly he wants to remain unseen. It would hurt too much.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — That's too bad. But hey, my offer's still on the table—

VOLITION [Success] — Behave.

1. — Turn to Kim. "The voices are currently offering to explain all your secrets to me, by the way. So there." (Do not say this???)

2. — [Shivers — Legendary] Tell me about Kim's life.

-1 Way too depressing to think about on some random Sunday

3. — [Visual Calculus — Legendary] Tell me about the way Kim thinks.

+1 Actually useful?? You know, for our job???

-> 4. — [Esprit De Corps — Godly] Tell me about how Kim feels about me. As a partner.

+1 Professional rapport

+1 More than professional (you guys are pretty good friends by now, right?)

+2 You still remember the way his voice shook as you bled out in his arms

5. — [Empathy — Impossible] No, I want more than that. Tell me more.

-3 It's not happening, Harry. I won't do it.

6. — [Electrochemistry — Heroic] No, no, tell me more about this "speedfreak Kitsuragi" stuff.

-1 Volition is disappointed in you

+1 You really do want to know, though

7. — Actually, maybe I shouldn't do this. (Leave)

HALF-LIGHT [Success] — WAIT! Don't pick that one, please. It's dangerous. It's going to hurt.

REACTION SPEED — What? That one seems like one of the less dangerous options, actually. What are you freaking out for?

ENDURANCE — Ugh, don't listen to that thing. It's just a mangy little dog that jumps at its own shadow.

INLAND EMPIRE [Success] — The shadow is dark and cold, and it wraps itself around the one you love, its fingers coated in yellowish-white grains of sand, but it will turn him blue. You cannot save him.

RHETORIC — ... What are you even talking about? There's no sand here. We're in Central Jamrock, not Iilmara.

1. — This is getting weird. (Pick a different one.)

-> 2. — No, I'll stick with my first choice.

[CHECK SUCCESS]

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Oh, no... Harry, I'm so sorry. This was supposed to be the safe option. Just a quick peek into his psyche to see what he thinks of working with you. If I'd known it would be something like this, I never would've...

What, does he hate me or something?

EMPATHY [Success] — Don't say that. Please don't say that... You have no idea how much pain I'm in. You have no idea how wrong you are.

ESPRIT DE CORPS — When Pryce first assigned him as your partner, after a few weeks of begging, you heard Lieutenant Kitsuragi mumble something under his breath. You weren't paying attention at the time, too excited to care, but you did hear him, in the back of your mind:

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Success] — "I won't live through the death of another partner," he'd whispered to himself.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Success] — He'd briefly glanced back at you as he'd said it, almost nervous, his small smile tensing at the corners like he'd suddenly had to fake it.

LOGIC [Success] — He wasn't saying he didn't want to be your partner. Clearly he did, because he is.

EMPATHY [Success] — It was worse than that, so much worse... A promise to himself.

INLAND EMPIRE — You cannot save him.

INLAND EMPIRE [Success] — He would only do it if you were gone. Gone to somewhere you'd never come back from. Gone to somewhere you wouldn't be able to stop him.

[-1 MORALE]

HALF-LIGHT — I told you it was going to hurt.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi is a practical man, more concerned with privacy and efficiency than anything else. He would never drive his beloved Kineema into a ravine, for example— instead, three bottles sit in a lonely box in his bathroom cabinet: cimetidine, metoclopramide, and sodium nitrite.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Success] — The first two are just over-the counter drugs. Their only purpose is to counteract the side effects of the latter.

PAIN THRESHOLD — A small comfort he would allow himself in death.

ESPRIT DE CORPS — None of them have been opened since their purchase three years ago, but if ever he felt the need, he would not hesitate to do it.

EMPATHY [Success] — No. He would hesitate. Even if just for a minute, the weight of it all would be difficult for him to shake. Kim Kitsuragi is a man with an incredibly strong survival instinct; it's just how he's wired. In that moment, he would feel as though time itself was slowing down as he struggled to move through the thick miasma of dread and fear, like swimming upriver through the Esperance. But it would not be enough to stop him.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Success] — His extremities would be blue in minutes. He would be dead within hours, at most.

[-1 MORALE]

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Success] — You wonder, did his hands shake when he purchased these supplies? Did his eyes shine with the thin film of unshed tears when he packed them away in that cabinet? Did he even let himself cry?

COMPOSURE — Or was he as calm as ever, save for the slightest difference in the set of his jaw?

VOLITION — Does it even matter? Either way, he is not nearly as sane as you believe him to be.

ESPRIT DE CORPS — Don't feel too bad for not noticing. He prefers it that way.

EMPATHY [Success] — And do you want to know the worst part? He's happy. He really is, Harry. He loves being your partner and he loves being here, with you. This is just what happiness looks like to him. How it's always looked, since...

INTERFACING [Success] — He refuses to let himself be happy without an exit strategy. One foot out the door. A finger on the eject button. Just in case.

[-1 MORALE]

HALF-LIGHT — Whatever fancy thing you want to call it won't change the fact that he's in DANGER. We need to help him!

EMPATHY — No. You were never meant to see this. Any of this.

SUGGESTION — And besides, what exactly are you going to say? Accusing a random person of wanting to kill themselves, specifically of wanting to kill themselves in response to you dying— it would make you look like a delusional egomaniac at best.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Lieutenant Kitsuragi is NOT a random person! He's our partner. What even are we if we can't protect our own partner?!

HAND-EYE COORDINATION [Failure] — He asks himself the same question, every single night.

[!] [MORALE CRITICAL] [!]

EMPATHY — Stop it! Please, you're hurting me! I can't take this anymore—

INLAND EMPIRE [Failure] — YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM, HARRIER. YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM YOU CAN'T—

"Detective?" Kim is shaking your shoulder, looking a little worried. "Apologies. I usually don't interrupt you when you're..." Communing with the voices in your head, he doesn't say. "... But you started crying. Here, I have some magnesium— you can take it with your potato chip ice cream abomination." He smiles a little, and you know he's just trying to cheer you up.

SUGGESTION — And because you are a pathetically easy creature, it works on you.

[+1 MORALE]

Grinning back at him even as tears continue to well up in your eyes, you down the magnesium with a spoonful of your ice cream. The chips are soggy by now, and it tastes much worse than before, but the magnesium does its job.

Kim huffs a quiet laugh at the disgruntled look on your face. "That bad, huh? Well, I won't say 'I told you so'."

-> 1. — [Volition — Impossible] Stay calm.

2. — [Pain Threshold — Legendary] Punch yourself in the mouth. You won't be able to say anything if you're missing teeth.

[CHECK FAILURE]

VOLITION [Failure] — I'm sorry. It was never going to happen.

"Kim, y-you wouldn't—" Your fragile smile crumples like wet paper as a sob wrenches itself from your chest.

Immediately, Kim's eyes widen, and his hand tightens on your shoulder. Protective. "Harry," he says, softly, too softly, almost like it's not something you were meant to hear at all. Then: "We should get out of here. I was planning to let you stay at mine anyways. Hopefully my couch won't start calling you names, like last time— I was sure to give it a stern talking-to, you know," he adds, forcing levity into his voice.

EMPATHY [Success] — He cares about you so much. It's going to break you.

INLAND EMPIRE [Failure] — We can't save him. I'm sorry, we just can't, there's nothing we can—

HALF-LIGHT — nopleasenonononono—

VOLITION [Success] — You're wrong. Both of you are wrong. We're not helpless, and he's not hopeless. There is still time to fix this.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Go with him. You know what you need to do.

"Of course," you croak out, wiping your face with a napkin. "Thank you, Kim."

—

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — The next morning, long after his partner has left, Lieutenant Kitsuragi stumbles out of the shower and puts on his glasses. He opens the bathroom cabinet to look for his razor, so he can shave the patchy stubble under his chin— only to blink in surprise when he sees that a familiar box, tucked away in the back, is open and empty.

EMPATHY [Success] — He feels so many things at once that it's almost as if he feels nothing at all.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Success] — But it's not nothing, is it? It can't be nothing. If it was nothing, it wouldn't hurt this much. If it was nothing, there wouldn't be any hope.

EMPATHY [Success] — He allows himself to cry. Quiet and subdued, but even still, it's the first time he's cried in far too long. And it's awful and cathartic and miserable and furious and so, so afraid, but if you were to turn the lights off, you might see the tiniest spark in his lungs, the faint glow of something terrifying he can't quite smother. The ghost of his younger self pounding its fists against his ribcage, screaming as if begging for its life—

INLAND EMPIRE [Success] — LOVED LOVED WE ARE LOVED WE ARE WANTED WE ARE CARED FOR WE CAN BE SAFE AND HAPPY AND LOVED—

SHIVERS [Success] — Staring blankly at an empty cardboard box in his bathroom, a 44-year-old man lets himself cry openly for the first time in approximately two thousand, one hundred and ninety-six days. After all, he reasons, no one is there. No one can see the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and sliding down his face.

EMPATHY [Success] — No one except you.

[harryforvogue]

harry and mia blurb. 1.8k. as always, happy reading! based on this message ... from 2021

---

The thud of Harry’s duffel bag dropping onto the floor forces Mia out of her daydreams. She stops staring at him – even though it’s well within her right to as someone so intimately occupied with him – and smiles up at the newest arrival. He’s just stepped out of the bathroom, a hoodie and sweats on, dragging the bag to the end of her bed frame so it’s no longer a tripping hazard. 

Harry’s hair is tied into a bun at the back of his head, but the strands he couldn’t avoid getting wet in the shower frame his face in cute ringlets. Harry loops his work bag over the back of her desk chair and then falls onto her twin XL bed with a grunt. Face first. 

The bed is so small, not just compared to all six feet of Harry, that his arms naturally fall into her lap. He adjusts himself then, wrapping his arms around her waist, shuffling closer to bury his face against her hip. It’s easy to fall back into the rhythm of having Harry in her space, no matter how startling it is to see him only every few months. The excitement doesn’t go away totally, but it dissipates into comfort. Evolves.

Harry sighs deeply. Mia relieves his hair of the tight bun, and then his sigh turns into a very tired hum. 

“Long flight?” Mia whispers. She walks her fingers down his neck and shoulders, pressing the backs of her knuckles into the hard flesh at the top of his spine. Harry groans and drops his shoulders.

“Worked the entire flight. I wanted to sleep,” Harry mutters. He lifts his head up and then flips over, staring at her upside down from where his head rests now in her lap. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Mia says softly, smoothing her thumbs over his forehead. “You should get some rest.”

Harry blinks. “No, I’m good. I’ll sleep at the hotel.” With yet another sound that he can’t seem to keep inside of him, he sits up and turns around, wrapping his right arm around her torso. “Come here.”

Mia happily lets him tug her towards him. His kiss is soft, always just a little bit hesitant when they meet after so long. His free hand cups her jaw, fingers curling into her own damp hair. When he pulls back, Mia swears there’s a hint of a smile on his face. The rest of him, though, still looks tired. Even his blinks are slow. 

“You can take my bed, sir,” Mia whispers, leaning in for another kiss. What she really wants to do is kiss him until she’s lost all reason, but she just feels so bad about how tired he looks. “It’s small but it’ll do the job.”

Harry drops his forehead to Mia’s shoulder. She thinks he kisses her collarbone, but she’s not too sure. The kiss is clumsy and not well positioned. Mia throws her arms around his big shoulders and goes back to knuckling at the stiff muscle, smiling when Harry shivers and spreads his large hands over her back.

“Fine,” he decides. Or maybe his body decides. “Just for half an hour.”

“Okay.” She goes to pull away. “I’ve an assignment I’ve been procrastinating anyways.”

Harry’s arms tighten. “No, sleep with me.”

It’s not a question. But it’s not an order either. Mia knows exactly how to tell the difference in tone when the statement from Harry comes as a command versus a suggestion versus – albeit rare – a joke. Right now, it’s a suggestion. He picks his head up and looks at her with his beautiful red rimmed green eyes and his pouty, tired mouth, and his red cheeks, and –

And Mia can’t say no to him.

“Yeah, all right,” she whispers, swallowing. 

Harry scoots back and pulls the duvet away. Before he buries himself into the bed, he tugs his hoodie off, giving Mia a breathtaking view of the smattering of tattoos on his arms and chest. She stops herself for a total of seven seconds before her hands are wandering over his flesh, as if it’s the first time she’s seeing them. Harry doesn’t mind, nor does he pull away. His eyes are closed, hair smushed under his cheek on her pillow. He’s taken the side closest to the wall, but even though he makes himself small, there’s so much of him. To accommodate the lack of space, Mia slinks into the warm bed and huddles close to him.

“Your roommate?” Harry murmurs against Mia’s hair. It’s a bit awkward. There’s a bit of maneuvering, and Mia ends up with her back to his chest. Still, his knees end up at her thighs and he has nowhere to put his other arm except under the pillow. It’ll fall asleep soon and cause discomfort, but Harry seems too tired to care.

“Studying in the library. Then she’s staying at her boyfriend’s dorm.”

“Did you tell her I’d be here?”

“I told her I’d have a guest.”

“Mm.” Harry’s hand slides over Mia’s skin when he snakes under her shirt. She clenches her stomach to prevent laughing out loud or jabbing her elbow into his stomach. “An hour okay? Set an alarm or something.”

“Okay,” Mia says.

She will not.

Maybe Harry will be upset with her when he ends up sleeping for a lot longer, but there’s no way a man can function like this. It’s simply not healthy. And it digs into their time together, but if Mia’s totally honest, she’s fine with just this. She’s missed Harry so much. It’s nice to be close to him, to feel his warmth against her back, his heavy arm over her waist. His presence is good for her.

Harry is out within seconds. His breathing evens before Mia actually gets comfortable.

Stupid man, Mia thinks. He overworks himself too much.

–

Later, when two and a half hours have gone by and Mia’s working on her assignment on her desk, she peeks over at him. He’s still fast asleep and hasn’t moved since he first laid down, arms where they would be if Mia was still cuddled up against him. But it’s eight p.m. now and though Harry needs the sleep, he won’t be able to rest again if he goes back to the hotel. It’ll start an annoying cycle of sleeping at the wrong hours.

He looks beautiful tucked into her ridiculously small bed. All pale skin and dark tattoos. Dark hair. She’s so happy she gets to see him in his most vulnerable state. 

Mia stands and shuffles closer. In her heart, she doesn’t want to wake him up. She leans on the mattress on her knees and carefully shakes him. “Hey. Sir, wake up.”

It takes a while to get him to give her a grunt, but when he does, he glances outside sharply and sighs at the dark night. His eyelashes stick together and there’s an imprint of her pillow’s folded edge right under his left eye.

“Amelia…”

“I know. You said to wake you up, but you looked so tired. I couldn't.”

He smells like sleep, like warmth. Mia carefully lowers herself onto him, straddling his hips, balancing herself out with hands rested on his lower stomach. Harry blinks at her a few times and then lazily looks over at his phone. The bright light illuminates his face so she has a perfect view of his furrowed eyebrows. He drops the phone back onto the bed. 

“Don’t you feel so much better?” Mia whispers. 

Harry’s fingers slide under her shirt again, holding her down. “Mhm.”

“You can stay the night, you know?”

Harry shakes his head. “Can’t.”

“You can. It’s my room and I say you can.”

It requires a fair amount of effort, but soon Harry’s sitting up, bleary eyed, rubbing his palms against his eyes. “I can’t,” he says, dropping his hands. “What time is your class tomorrow?”

“11.”

“And it’s done at–?”

“I have two classes. I’ll be done by 3.”

“I’ll pick you up at 3:45. We’ll eat in.”

He goes to move, but Mia’s hands stop him, holding him down. “Sir, you need to rest. I mean it.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise, a clear sign that he’s trying to be in charge, but the attempt melts away with his low energy. He puts his hands over hers and leans in for a quick kiss. No arguments after. He rolls her over and then heads to the bathroom to freshen up.

When he returns, she’s still sitting in her bed with her legs criss crossed, staring up at him. Before he goes to grab his bag, he leans down and kisses her hard, fingers curled around her jaw. She eagerly responds, dragging him back down by the collar so that he has to lean his weight on the mattress with a hand splayed on her headboard.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Harry’s promise is firm and resolute.He kisses her again. Pulls away. Thinks for a moment, and then kisses her once more. “It’s so very good to see you, Amelia.”

Butterflies erupt everywhere in her body. She follows his lips with her own, crawling closer when he goes to move away. “Come on. Please stay, sir.” She pouts. “You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor or even my roommate’s bed.” Neither of them are her first choice, but whatever. 

Harry’s answer is a quick shake of his head. “Thank you,” he murmurs, thumbing over her mouth. “But, honestly, Amelia, the issue isn’t that.” A quick upwards turn of his lips and then – “My back will kill me tomorrow if I sleep in your bed overnight.”

Mia gapes at him as he moves to grab his work bag. “You’re such an elitist!” she whisper-shouts. “My twin XL bed wasn’t cheap! I paid for it in my room and board fees!”

Harry hums with a bigger smile on his face. “Tomorrow, 3:45. I’m going to be at your door, got it?”

“If you hate my mattress so much, why don’t you buy me a new one!”

“We’re going to my hotel and we’re going to have dinner–” he says slowly.

“And why don’t you complain to the college while you’re at it!”

“And we’ll open a bottle of wine and maybe take a bath, have dessert–” Harry comes closer, a fire in his tired eyes.

“You have no right to complain considering you just hogged my blankets for two freaking hours!”

“--and I’m finally, finally,” Harry murmurs, reaching for her jaw to shut her mouth, “going to show you how much I fucking missed you.”

Mia stops. She puts down the pillow she grabbed in her frustration to hurl at him. “Oh. Okay.”

“Okay?” Harry says, amused, searching her face.

“Uh huh.”

“Good.” Harry drops his hand and lays an innocent kiss to her cheek. It seems like a reward. “Now.” He goes for the door. “Tomorrow. I’ll see you.”

“Um.”

“Goodnight.”

Mia sits there and blinks.

“Wait!” She scrambles off the bed, running to the door. “You can’t just say that and leave! Hey!” The door shuts behind Harry, but she can hear him quietly laughing. “You can’t just leave now!”

[ghouldtime]

Alone. Truly Alone.

I know I’m not the only one who took one singular, inquisitive glance at the new Alone Operator skin for the upcoming season and went “Would”. I need need need content on him

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

If you had to rank all the terrible decisions you’ve made in your life, this would certainly be in the top ten. Breaking into an abandoned place was a bad idea on its own. Now multiply the magnitude of that by twenty, considering it was supposedly some kind of military facility at one point in time before it was left to rot. Then add in the factors that you were alone, without a map, and no cell service. Yeah, definitely not your smartest decision. 

Dozens of garish yellow and red signs marked with a variety of warnings used everything under the sun (and law) telling you not to proceed decorated the corroding chain link fences that lined the property like it was going out of style. The crumbling facade of iron and concrete that made up the walls were made out to match. Everywhere you looked there was yet another warning, another thing telling you to turn back now. That should've been a sign, right?

Well, it wasn't the sign you were listening to. That one, the only sign you cared about right now, you had spotted stapled to a telephone pole as you were waiting to cross the street to go to your favorite grocery store. The crumpled, salmon pink flier hastily crammed in your backpack was your savior and your curse that brought you here.

The reason being a whole whopping $500. Something that would greatly benefit you and cause a whole less of a headache this month - and allow you a chance to breathe. It was a chance you couldn't pass up. And it's not like it was complicated. All you had to do was: get into the desolate fort, get proof of evidence of being inside there (photographic AND physical), and get out. Simple. Easy money. A task that even you could manage in maybe an hour or two, tops. You'd be an idiot not to do it.

Why anyone would pay that kind of money for you to go in there was beyond you. Quite frankly, you didn’t care. Money was money. Everyone had their reasons and if they were paying that much for a task that was that simple, then you weren't going to pry. All they had to do was pay up when the time was done, you'd never think about it again, and you'd be on your merry way a whole lot better off and a little bit richer.

Just to be certain that this wasn't a prank or someone trying to harass their ex with a pathetic attempt to get their number out there, you called the number scrawled hastily on the rain-soaked, faded poster. A harried Scottish accent confirmed without a doubt that this wasn't fake and was real as real could be. Truth be told, you didn’t understand much of what he said aside from “Aye”, which was close enough. He seemed to be talking at a million miles an hour in a near frantic tone. Surely, that was a red flag. But right now you were colorblind to everything except green.

It was enough motivation for you to throw some gear into a backpack and head out late in the night to the address of the once-important fort. The promise of cash and having it soon in your hand was plenty to get you moving.

Against your best instinct, against your gut screaming at you and telling you to turn back, and against all common sense - you went forwards anyways and decided today was the day when you’re going to pretend that you’re illiterate and those warnings meant nothing to you anyways.

Stale, stagnant air filtered through the respirator that hung snug on your face. If you breathed in a lungful of whatever was in here without it, it's likely you would’ve ended up with some new kind of respiratory disease previously unheard of - you're sure of it. Algae and lichen clung to some damp crevices, decorated with splotches of black mold the darkened the corners even more along the outskirts of the inky, lingering shadows.

Each cautious step forward onto the rubble and gravel covered ground ricocheted off the dilapidated walls of the corridor, fading into the abyss of black that stretched on far beyond what you could see. Though you doubted the protective eye ware helped you see better - it was probably more of a hindrance but you didn't want to take any more risks than necessary. The last thing you needed was a hospital bill.

The pathetic beam of warm, yellow light your flashlight provided scarcely illuminated the void that swallowed the hallway whole. What little you could see did nothing to motivate you forward. More disintegrating ceiling and rubble-buried winding halls greeted you with the same unwavering stillness as the rest of the place.

Crumbling, bleak, cold passages decorated with mildew, mold, and umber mystery stains you really didn’t want to think about alike stretched in a winding labyrinth you tried your best to navigate. Sparse nearly-disintegrated warning signs served as place markers to guide you through the otherwise directionless building, offering you the smallest sense of navigation and a sense of knowing where you were going.

One foot in front of the other, step by slow step, you made your way through the place untouched by light and people alike.

It shouldn't be that hard, you mused as you kept on walking. Whether it was just to reassure yourself with a steady mantra or confidence was left up to debate, but the fact remained: it was simple. Get an object that irrefutably proved you were here, take a picture - and that was it. That was all.

Now, that still left the question of what to take and what to get a picture of up for debate. Scouring the building hadn’t turned up anything worthwhile so far, except maybe some signage. But they were all too… generic. They were all something that could easily be faked and pulled from elsewhere. And a picture of them or another dimly lit, basic hallway wouldn’t do you any good. It would get you a door slammed in your face, a laugh if you’re lucky, and certainly no $500 which was the whole reason you were here in the first place.

Maybe you should’ve asked specifically what he wanted you to bring and a picture of….

Who are you kidding? You wouldn’t be able to understand a lick of what he said if you did. Maybe his accent was better in person, maybe he had told you in the hurried, almost anxious tone and you weren't remembering - but trying to talk to him again through the phone was a hopeless endeavor. Unless they were keeping a spare brain in here and translating software, you doubt you'd be able to even begin to try and understand the guy. All you could do was silently curse yourself for not asking, curse him for not being more coherent, and try your best to find something unique, snap a picture, and get out of there before you regretted stepping foot in this place even further.

With grumbled curse, knowing very well that you had to go further in the hopes that something actually substantial would greet you, you kept on going. There was no turning back now, no. You'd come too far. One more step forwards got you closer to that money and being out of here.

Yet lady luck wasn't making this easy, nor was she on your side today. A majority of doors you came across had been locked - barricaded, and certainly not something you could open. Their heavy, unyielding steel frames stood impassive, unmoving, and scarcely caring of your plight or any force used against them. It's almost like they stood there, mocking you silently for even trying. It was a waste of energy to even try with another one when the first twelve hadn't done anything more than groan slightly, giving the tiniest shudder before stilling in their frame.

Rounding what must’ve been the hundredth corner, you braced for yet another blank hallway and another unmovable door, but what greeted you was something different enough to cause you to halt in your tracks. An open door. A single, open door marked with a flickering, old bulb dangling above as if it were on its last legs, trying to stay alight. A wave of relief washed over you as you couldn’t help but to sprint forward, closing in on the hope that you could be done and out of here - and you’d have your money before you knew it! It was almost over. This aimless wandering with a stuffy mask and glasses to match was almost over.

Ignoring all common sense, you chased that feeling - quite literally. Caution was thrown to the wind as you darted into the room, your eyes flickered all over the first true, non-vacant room you’d found in here. Empty hospital beds with yellowed, stained linens haphazardly jumbled across their tops lined the walls. It wasn't a pretty sight but right now, it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

Panning your flashlight around, the warm, washed-out beam glinted off the dusty metal IV stands and carts littered about. Cobwebs spidered the corners of the walls and the rest of the surfaces alike, though their inhabitants seem to have left long ago.

Scanning the room, a few seconds ticked by before you finally found just what you needed, dangling off the foot of the bed by a worn hook. There it was, your holy grail: a brown piece of hardboard and rusted metal alike holding down frayed, yellowed pages. It's the only time you can officially say that you've been happy to see a clipboard - much less, elated and overjoyed to see such a simple piece of office ware. You could practically kiss it and taste sweet, sweet money right about now.

Swiping it from its place, your eyes flitted over the blotched, inky text scrawled on it, silently praying that it would have just what you’d need. The smallest corner of a logo stood in the top right corner, while the rest of the patient information seemed to have been rubbed at or swiped away. And your heart nearly sank in short-lived disappointment. Water stains distorted and warped the paper but your saving grace came in the form of a date and the name of the complex, officially signed at the top of the paper. 

The warm, giddy feeling that had been so fleeting earlier came back with a vengeance that lit up your heart and face alike. This was it! This was just what you needed. Placing it down, you fumbled with the camera clipped onto your belt, the tremble of excitement in your hands doing little to aid you. Snapping a picture of the clipboard with a quick click and a flash of light, you stuffed your saving grace into the weathered backpack you had donned. 

Task one - done. Now to get a good picture of the place and you'd be done. One simple click, one move, and one terribly annoying walk through the forever expansive hallways, and you would be out of here and back in your comfy bed before you knew it. Maybe you'd even get to catch up on a single episode of your favorite show.

Stepping back into a corner where you could find a vantage point, you held onto that flickering flame of hope as you pointed your camera and flashlight alike in the same direction to snap a quick picture of the room. With a simple click and a flash of blinding light, the deed was done. You could finally be out of here. 

Or so you thought. 

A sparse glint caught your eye as the bright flash ebbed away, the shadows returning full force aside from the gleaming, round lights that turned towards you. Your heart skipped a beat as you froze, your breath hitching as a wave of fear sunk the beginning of its talons into you.

No, no. Not a glint, you realized with horror. Six. Six luminous, reflective lenses glowed in the dark as they turned to look right at you. Staring. 

Your heart sank even further into your stomach, your blood running cold, as the corner went dark once again for a fraction of a second before all six glowing dots were back and all were looking right at you.

With a trembling hand, you kept your flashlight lowered. You don’t think you wanted to know what that was. No creature - no living being that big would have six eyes. 

You took a step back. 

Then another.

Another.

The ice-cold sensation of your blood coursing through your veins, your heart erratically beating against your chest harder and harder, kept you from screaming. A creak of the protest from the old hospital bed sounded like a gunshot in the otherwise too-still room as the thing stood and started moving towards you with footsteps that were all too quiet, all too soft for a thing of that caliber.

Whatever breath you had been holding escaped you as it lumbered out of the shadows. An unearthly, sickening gurgle spewed from its maw as if it were choking on its own saliva.

Even through the respirator, the scent of putrid rot and decay wafted from it as it drew closer and closer, your stomach tensed as you gagged, the bile threatened to rise from your stomach as the urge to puke took you by surprise. If you weren’t wearing the respirator, you’re sure you would have - and maybe you would have noticed it in the room sooner if you could've picked up the stench of death.

The urge to run, all instincts screaming at you, pleading and begging you to run for your life simply didn’t work as you stood rooted to the spot as it finally stepped into the trembling, watery beam of light that cut through the speckles of floating dust. A scream of horror caught in your throat as you finally stared up at the abomination's mangled form with wide eyes.

Three heads, all fused together in a webbing of crimson, sinewy membranes moved in sync. Six eyes - six, now unblinking, cloudy eyes settled on you. Despite the milky, glassy sheen to the eyes settled and sunken deep into the heads (or in the raw membranous flesh in the case of one eye on the head to its left) - it tracked every single movement and breath, focused on you with near predatory ease. Five arms hung loose by its side, with two of them being partially fused together in a sick amalgamation. Bits of pallid skin had long ago sloughed off, exposing muscle that had blackened with exposure but somehow not rotted away.

Skull masks and balaclavas covered most of their faces - and you supposed that was a good thing. If the distended, broken jaws of the heads were indication of how it would look underneath, you’re happy declining on seeing what lay below. Drool spilled onto the fabric, or some mystery liquid, bubbling up as it made yet another noise. The motion caused your have to fly up to your covered mouth, your heart and stomach alike retching.

Torn tactical gear adorned the twisted cerberus, blackened with fluids, almost as if it had once had a purpose - to protect. But your mind wasn't there, it was on its existence. The abomination, the chimera, the thing that shouldn’t exist and went against all aspects of nature stood in front of you unmoving for a moment until you took a single step back.

It took a step forward.

Ever so slowly, as if moving through molasses, it drew three scarred hands up, reaching for you.

That was all you needed to take off. Up and out through the hall where you came, your legs strained as you sprinted. Each footstep echoed louder and louder down the void of black and gray you came from, flooding out the sputtered groan from it but you didn’t care. Consequences be damned, you didn't care how loud you were or how much attention you drew. You were better off getting caught by a guard or hell even the police - at least they’d have guns. 

Every inhale scorched your lungs, the fire of fatigue seared deep into every strand of your muscles as you kept on pushing, but you didn’t stop - you couldn’t. Not until you cleared the hallways, skirting through the piles of debris and around the same desolate corridors you had meandered through prior. Not until the crisp, chilled night air finally greeted you as the stars twinkled above, oblivious to the sheer horrors below. 

Not until you finally jammed yourself through the cut hole in the chain link fence, any pain of the metal scraping at your skin dulled out by the adrenaline flowing through your veins, empowering each sprinting step forwards until you were far, far away and back in the safety of your car.

Note to self: Don’t ever trust fliers you find on telephone poles.

This guy better be ready as soon as the sun graced the land again to hand over those five Benjamins. Hopefully he likes his mornings started with pounding knocks to his door and a middle finger to the face. 

જ⁀➴

The darkness echoed with the patter of fading footsteps as the mystery person sprinted away, completely aghast with a look of sheer primal fear painted on their limited, exposed features. 

They didn’t see how his fingers flexed, hands still outstretched in the air, twitching once again at the loss of something warm, something human that he came so close to grasping.

They didn’t see how he stared at where they were, not moving from the spot he stood. Nor did they see his clouded, hazy eyes downturn as he dragged his form back to the bed with great reluctance. 

Nor did they hear the drowned out, garbled words that took all his energy to choke out and force his broken jaws to move. 

“Don’t…. go….”

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Thinking of maybe making this a series! Any feedback is welcome and appreciated! It's been a while since I've written so forgive any mistakes,,,,

Edit: part two has been posted!

[resident-gay-bitch]

Jilypad happens because the three of them are out fighting in the war and a big explosion happens and they get separated and are all so afraid they’ve lost eachother that when they finally all get home to realise the others are there too James and lilys first instincts are to kiss sirius and vice versa. Then they all step back like oopsie wtf we just kissed our best friend…

And then they fuck nasty style about it all through the night and half of the next morning, then they go to have bunch in Jilys kitchen and can’t stop touching eachother whilst they all cook and they feed eachother then abandon their meal halfway through to fuck nasty again.

Then a week or so later Lily finds out she’s pregnant and they Freak Out because her and James haven’t been fucking as much lately with all the heavy moods they’ve been in from the war going on, so they immediately think she’s pregnant from That Night and they know any ejactjaltiown that happened near Lilys vag was done by Sirius and Sirius only and so they’re like Omg Sirius knocked Lily up!

Lilys stressed because her husbands best friend knocked her up, Sirius is terrified because he does Not want to pass on his terrible family line and was sure he was going to end it and doesn’t know if he’s ready to be a dad yet. James is over the moon excited because his best friend just knocked up his wife and they’re all gonna be a family!!! And their baby is gonna look like the girl he’s in love with And the boy he’s in love with and he’s so happy about it.

And then they find out it was actually James that knocked her up and then they’re all kinda…. Sad. Because they had plans starting, for the three of them to raise this kid together, one big happy family, two dads and one amazing mum.

But they decide to do it anyway. James and Lily beg Sirius to move in with them and be their boyfriend, and Sirius becomes godfather to Harry but he’s also Harry’s second dad, which he’s stoked about because he gets to be a dad without passing on his shitty bloodline and if he’s bad at his job he knows James is gonna be a brilliant dad so Harry’s garenteed to turn out fine!

[junglemindless]

part. 2 of percy's headcanons. bc we all need this. (here is part. 1 btw) - i think that's kinda fem!reader but imagine it in the way you prefer :)

• percy would completely love "the catcher in the rye" by j.d. salinger. doesn't matter if you like it or not or think it's overated, he would see a lot of himself on holden

• he cooks for you. and he's SO hot doing it. he sees this recipe videos on tiktok and wants to try it with you.... he goes all "hey, babe taste it, taste it!!!!" while wearing an apron with "kiss the chef" written on it

• btw, when you're just sitting waiting for him to end up his fun so you two can finally eat, he just stands on your side and points to his apron. he's not getting back to the kitchen until you kiss him.

• all that doesn't matter, bc he's actually a wonderfull cook

• we all know that but let's just reinforce: he will ask you to paint your nails blue. you will show him all the blue shades of nail polish you have, and he will carefully choose his favorite

• he is a huge fan of childish gambino and tyler, the creator. kanye west too but he feels kinda guilty bc he's actually not into the nazi thing soooo

• okay. he likes taylor swift. in a way that just a boyfriend could. in a way that he will sing to it on his car and record it to you so you can be proud of his musical taste

• BIG NOSE RIZZ.

• percy is so babygirl but also such a man. he will let you choose his clothes, do skin care with him, call you cute nicknames but will never NEVER let anything bad heppen with you in his turn. make a longer way home just to be able to accompany you and you don't have to walk alone at night. hold you close on the subway. INSISTS on you to call him when you get home so he can be sure you're safe

• i feel he's kinda of an anime guy. his favorite is probably one piece (yes, he did watched the whole thing)

• percy is very nerdy actually. he loves star wars, harry potter (btw i really can't decide which one of the four houses he is in), avatar (ofc obsessed with the water one) and so many video games. this ones i will not be able to exemplify cause i don't really know any but percy would !!!!

• he will come up with a nickname for your name (even if it seems impossible) that only he uses because he wants to be unique

• eye contact king. like, he's gonna staring at you to death. he knows what he does with you and he absolutely loves it.

• smirk king too. put the eye contact and smirk together and you have a beautiful percy-checking-you-out-scene in any outfit, even the simple ones, just because he wants to see you blush. how i said: he knows.

guys. thinking a LOT about fratboy!percy and all his rizz in action on young adult life. should i write about it? i mean, i will anyways. but would anybody be up for it?

thanks for reading ♡♡

[sundarksposts]

'don't forget'

I do not own the song 'don't forget' by Demi Lovato

Author's note:

Hello guys! I'm so sorry that this story was on delay because I got writer's block.

Anyways, apologies for the bad writing, English is not my first language.

I hope you guys enjoy it!

Warning: Mention of alcohol, angst

-------------------------------

Did you forget that I was even alive?

Did you forget everything we ever had?

Did you forget? Did you forget about me?

It had been raining in the city of London since 5 PM. Y/N sat on her sofa, snuggled in her black blanket, with a hot cup of tea, two tissue boxes on the coffee table and scattered used tissues.

Ever since Harry broke up with her, she had been staying in her apartment everyday after work. Her friends had tried to drag her out to pubs or clubs, but she always turned them down because everything just reminded her of him.

You keep checking your phone, waiting for a text from Harry, just maybe asking how you were, wondering if you were still alive, or if he missed you the way you missed him.

Your eyes drift to the bouquet of daisies that he gave you, now nearly withered. You reach for one of the daisies, plucking a single petal.

He forgot me not.

Did you regret ever standing by my side?

Did you forget what we were feeling inside?

Now I'm left to forget about us

Y/N opened her Instagram and saw a picture of her and Harry that she had posted at her sister’s wedding. The couple stood side by side, smiling, hands in hand. The look he gave her that day was one of admiration and love.

“Have you ever thought about us having a wedding?” you asked the blonde haired man beside you, a glass of red wine in your right hand while your left held his on the table.

You sipped your wine, waiting for his answer as he nodded and smiled at you. “Of course. Not now, but one day for sure” he answered before taking a sip of his drink and squeezing your hand reassuringly. You smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

You still remember that day as clearly as freshly baked bread from the oven. The butterflies in your stomach, the love, the anticipation of a future with the man you adored. Does he still feel the same way you do? Or are you the only one holding on, trying to move forward from everything? You plucked another petal.

he forgot me.

But somewhere we went wrong

We were once so strong

Our love is like a song

You can't forget it

Yet, every relationship has its ups and downs. Y/N remembers the first argument that led to all the others.

It was over a joke he made in one of the Sidemen videos, and Y/N didn’t like it. You brought it up while lying in bed before going to sleep, he had just returned from a travel shoot for one of the videos.

“I just don’t get why you would make that comment. Not everyone thought it was funny” you said as you sat on the bed.

“Y/N, it was a joke. Let it go, yeah? I’m knackered” he replied, walking to the bed after taking a shower and throwing on a T-shirt and some pants.

You rolled your eyes, you really didn’t like the joke. “It was inappropriate, Harry. You, out of all people, should know it’s not acceptable” you remarked, glancing at him as he looked at you with wide eyes.

“W-what do you want me to do? It was just a joke! The boys loved it, and everybody loved it. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” he suddenly snapped.

You looked at him, guilt washing over you, but before you could respond, Harry’s expression shifted as he realized he had raised his voice.

“I—I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’ll sleep in my office tonight” Before you could answer, he turned and left.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. You already missed Harry after he’d been away for video shoots, and now, the distance between you felt even greater.

You kept tossing and turning, debating whether to go to his office. But in the end, you decided against it, wanting to give him space. In the morning, after both of you had time to clear your minds, you walked into his office and curled up beside him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed it so far, I should’ve just let it go” you murmured against his chest. Harry shook his head, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “No, I should’ve never yelled at you. I’m sorry. Forgive me?” He looked at you, eyes filled with love and sincerity.

You nodded, offering him a small smile before leaning in to kiss him. What started as a simple kiss soon deepened, turning the morning into one of the best ones you’d ever had.

Your relationship with Harry was like a love song, and you just hoped he still remembered it. After taking another sip of your tea, you plucked another petal from the flower in your hand.

he forgot me not.

So now I guess this is where we have to stand

Did you regret ever holding my hand?

Never again

Please, don't forget

Don't forget

Y/N put her phone down on her lap and closed her eyes. You need to accept the reality that your relationship with Harry has ended, and you have to live your life as it is. Sobs came out from your mouth as you still remember the memories with him.

The first time he held your hand was when you, Harry, George, Chris, ArthurTV, Arthur Hill, Bach, and Becky were at a pub.

All of you were drinking, having fun, when suddenly, out of nowhere, Harry grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers.

You were shocked by his action, yet you could feel your cheeks heating up. You smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“I don’t want to lose you” he whispered in your ear, making you blush even more as you giggled.

Now, you found yourself asking: Did he regret it all? Did he regret spending three years of his life with me?

You plucked another petal of the daisies.

he forgot me.

We had it all

We were just about to fall

Even more in love than we were before

I won't forget

I won't forget about us

Y/N thought that both of them had something special in their relationship. Both you and Harry were in love with each other every day.

You were in the kitchen, cooking dinner for yourself and Harry, while he was in the living room of your shared flat. He was sitting on the sofa, watching a plane crash documentary when you suddenly heard the TV go silent.

The sound of footsteps approached behind you, and soon, Harry wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Whatcha cookin’, good lookin’?” he murmured next to your ear before kissing your cheek, making you giggle.

“Our dinner. Don’t distract me, please” you replied as he let you go.

“Alright, alright. Let me know if you need any help” he said with a smile before pressing a soft kiss to your lips and returning to the living room.

You smiled to yourself and thought, Oh, how did I get so lucky? Being domestic with Harry was your favorite thing.

You could see the sparks in his eyes whenever you were together, and you never wanted to forget it.

You smiled remembering the memories as you plucked yet another petal.

he forgot me not.

But somewhere we went wrong

We were once so strong

Our love is like a song

You can't forget it

And then there was the talk. Y/N could always feel when something was wrong with Harry. Somehow, he had become distant and moody whenever he was with you.

You were invited to a dinner at Simon's house by Talia, which felt strange because Harry hadn't mentioned it to you at all. You told Harry about the invitation, but all he had to say was that he forgot, and you let it go.

Both of you drove to the Minter's resident in silence, which was unusual for Harry. On the way, you glanced at him, trying to make conversation, yet you felt scared. It was awkward something that was rare for you, as you had never felt like this around him.

When you arrived, Simon and Talia greeted you. Most of the boys had already arrived. "Hi! Nice to see you guys! Thank you for coming" Talia said as she welcomed you with a hug, and Simon did the same for Harry.

"No worries, Talia! Thanks for the invite. I wouldn't have known if you hadn't told me" you replied, glancing at Harry, who had stayed silent. "Bog, you didn’t mention it to her?" Simon asked, to which Harry just shrugged and walked toward the dining room.

"What happened to him?" Talia whispered to you as you followed her and Simon to the dining room. You looked at Harry, who was talking to Ethan, smiling. You shook your head. "I honestly don't know. He hasn’t talked to me all day and didn’t even tell me about the dinner" you replied, and Talia nodded. "Maybe he’s just in a bad mood" Simon suggested, and you shrugged.

"Y/N!" Faith hugged you as you entered the dining room. You returned the hug. "Hi, Faith! It’s so nice seeing you" you said. "Same! Please sit next to me. We have a lot to catch up on" she said, pulling you to the chair beside hers.

At the dinner table, you sat between Harry and Faith. You and Faith chatted, trying to catch up, while occasionally stealing glances at Harry. He really doesn’t want to talk to me. He hasn’t even looked at me once, you thought, trying to focus on Faith’s story.

After dinner, everyone said their goodbyes and thanked Simon and Talia for hosting. You and Harry got into your Uber.

The ride home was silent, and you tried to think of something to say to him. When you arrived at your shared flat, you finally broke.

"Alright, what is your problem?" you asked him as you placed your purse on the kitchen counter.

"What do you mean?" he replied, avoiding your gaze.

"Your attitude tonight. You didn’t talk to me, you didn’t say anything. Hell, you didn’t even look at me. What’s wrong with you?" you asked again, and this time he finally looked at you, sighing.

"We should break up."

Your body froze. You couldn’t believe what he had just said. You were speechless, feeling numb.

"W-what?" you asked again, maybe you had heard wrong. Maybe he didn’t actually say it.

"We should break up" he repeated, and you were still in disbelief.

"Why? What did I do wrong?" you asked, trying to hold back your tears. He walked over to where you were standing, seeing the tears in your eyes.

"We're not on the same page anymore, Y/N. We want different things. You want a family, and I want to travel, have adventures. I'm not ready" he replied, looking you in the eyes. You stared back at him. The spark in his eyes wasn’t there anymore. You felt a sharp pang in your chest.

You remembered the deep conversation you both had a couple of months ago, when you shared your dreams with him. He had been suspiciously quiet back then, and now it all made sense.

"If that’s what you want, then I want you to be happy, Harry."

And just like that, he was gone.

You thought back to all the times when you were with him. You had been so happy. He couldn’t have forgotten that, right?

He forgot me.

And at last, all the pictures have been burned

And all the past is just a lesson that we've learned

I won't forget, please don't forget us

Y/N blows her nose and wipes her tears with a tissue. She realizes that she needs to move on. She finally packed all the things she had kept from her relationship with Harry: the movie tickets, the boarding passes from their holiday trips, the birthday gifts, she packed it all.

Then, she deleted all the pictures with him on her Instagram, made the account private, and removed all the photos and videos they had together.

A small part of her still hoped he’d message or call her, as if to show he still remembered her. But she had learned her lesson: she couldn’t hold on to the hope of "what ifs." She would cherish the memories of him, and God forbid, she hoped he wouldn't forget them either.

After tossing all of Harry’s things in the trash, she picked up the daisies that had been on her sofa and plucked one of the remaining petals.

He forgot me not.

Somewhere we went wrong

Our love is like a song

But you won't sing along

You've forgotten about us

Don't forget

Y/N wiped her tears as she stared at her phone, Harry's number on the screen. She really wanted to text him, but her brain caught up with her heart and made her delete the message. She knew it wouldn’t be a good idea.

She sighed and looked at her phone before tapping the "Block" option and deleting Harry’s contact.

She pressed "Block" and deleted his number.

The "Are you sure?" prompt appeared, and she pressed "Yes."

She was ready for the next chapter of her life and didn't want to cling to the past and you plucked the last petal of the daisies,

He forgot me.

-Fin-

[elrielffs]

Isn’t it a funny coincidence that Elriel shippers mostly like the Inner Circle, Mor, Nesta, Feyre, Elain, Cassian, Rhys?

But Gwynriel shippers are always (maybe some exceptions) anti-Inner Circle, anti-Mor/Rhys/Feysand/Cassian, anti-Nessian, anti-any main character, anti-ACOTAR (some cases or literally hating almost every main character). But they are ONLY pro-Nesta and pro-Azriel, additionally to pro-Valkyries who are not like the majority morally grey characters

The perfect characters, like Azriel (because we only got one pov and they turned him into headcanon to fit the fanon Gwyn version) or like Gwyn (who can’t do anything wrong) or Emerie-who? That Illyrian woman who was set up since ACOFAS but she can’t be with Azriel so who cares

And then they expect the next book to be: Nesta/Azriel POVs, or Azriel/Gwyn

Yup, it's funny isn't it?

There are plenty of Nesta and ACSOF fans that like the IC and the books. This isn't about them.

But there are some people that read ACOTAR because they heard it was big, it's the next Harry Potter, Twilight, etc, it blew up on Booktok and what not and from either slight curiosity or fear of missing out, or maybe they liked TOG and thought that they would like everything SJM, read the first 3 books of ACOTAR and didn't like it.

Which is fine. Everyone has different taste...but instead of moving on they decided to talk about how bad it is and not in a, oh this isn't for me way, but trying to moralize why it's bad, why they don't like it or the characters when honestly, it's not that deep.

Then comes ACOSF and thru Nesta they have confirmation bias forgetting that Nesta is...not healed for the majority of that book. Most Nesta Stans (not fans STANS) like Nesta when she's unhealed. They don't take into account the last bit of ACOSF. Nesta hating the IC, Rhysand, the NC to them was great because they hate the books forgetting that at the end, Nesta has made peace with herself and NC, IC, Rhysand because it was never about hating them, it was about Nesta. No matter where Nesta was, as long as she remained as she was, she was going to be the same hateful person. I also think a lot of is has people overly identifying with Nesta and retroactively trying to find reasons to dislike the NC like she does at first in order to be, "I'M JUST LIKE NESTA!!"

Not saying that you have to like the NC, Rhysand, and the IC but I mean, if you want to enjoy the books? Probably?? Because people who liked the unhealed Nesta pov want more of that, that's why there's all these theories of Nesta getting more books, Nessian breaking up, etc because they think they'll get more ammo for how the books are bad or the characters or whatever. And that's just not gonna happen.

They forget that Nesta is healed now, she's no longer the nasty mean girl that they can live vicariously through, she's happily mated and in love with Nessian and she is part of the NC and the IC.

And every one knows that for Elain and Elriel that puts a kabash on what they want from the series. That removes the IC hate, NC hate, Rhysand hate...but also they wouldn't get that in another Nesta book anyways.

They like Azriel for now but even with just the glimpse of his POV when he doesn't act like they want, he becomes the most disgusting MC. As soon as the book is out and he's with Elain, they'll hate him too.

There's also alot to be said about interpretation vs author intent and each book falls on a different scale on how far you can pull one or the other and I think for SJM, at the end of the day, author intent is how people should view the book because SJM is an OBVIOUS writer and her work leaves little room for interpretation imo. SJM does not intend for Rhysand to be evil, you can interpret it that way sure, but you are ruining the books and experience of reading them that way.

And that's the crux. If you see the books that way, you see them that way. And that means the books aren't for you but instead of moving on people are hanging on making the fandom horrible (seriously you can't even go to the reddit without supposedly fans hating almost every aspect of this series except for like 3 characters) and making wild theories that are never going to happen because it's based on their interpretation instead of SJM's intent.

And no the books aren’t above criticism but most of what I see isn’t criticism in good faith, it’s just hating to hate.

Anyone can read these books any way they want, it's their time and their money if they buy them but I don't understand spending so much energy on something you just obviously...don't like and hoping it turns into something it never was and never will be. The books are about the Night Court and Feysand and their family and friends and always will be the central focal point.

[my1interspatial2corner]

ִֶָ.𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ Chilly day ་༘࿐

⋆｡ Tags: Harry James Potter x you/reader, gn!reader, sfw, fluff, unestablished relationship, harry is a cutie patootie ⋆｡ Sypnosis: Harry takes notice just how cold you were feeling and decided to take it upon himself ⋆｡ Notes: Why is Harry so unpopular at his own damn movie?? Anyway for my Harry James Potter fans if they're even out here at this day and age

The view was painted white with snow, it was winter yet again at Hogwarts, and the temperatures had reached such an all time low that instead of rain, snow came pouring from the clouds. Hogwarts, for all it's magical artifacts and spells, got quite cold during this season, making people born in the muggle world wish they had a heating system around here.

“My god, is it chilly in here” You complained to no one in particular, hugging yourself for warmth. You were huddled in layers, making you feel like one of the snowmen the first years have been building, and yet, it still wasn’t enough to make you feel anything close to warmth if you weren’t draped with a blanket and standing besides a fireplace.

“You’re still cold?” Harry asked, acting like he himself wasn’t covered layer by layers, wearing thermal wear and a thick coat “You need to get burnt alive in order not to feel cold, apparently”

You rolled your eyes at his sarcastic comment, shoving him to the side. The two of you were walking through the corridors of Hogwarts, Ron and Hermonie not present at the moment “Shut up, you’ll see who gets burnt alive, Harry”

Harry rolled his eyes right back at you, a grin on his face. If he was like Hermione- who had thousands of books and spells memorized, he would’ve given you a spell to keep warm, if that even existed. But he wasn’t, and so he grabbed your hands, but he almost jolted away from you.

“Your hands are like ice!” Harry exclaimed, surprised by the sheer stark contrast between his hands and yours “No wonder you’re so cold, your body temperature is so low!”

“Oh, now you’re concerned?” You retorted, huffing but not turning his touch away. His hands were warm, and it was comforting compared to the chilling temperatures at the castle.

“I was concerned before, I just didn’t know it was that bad” Harry replied gently, his eyes softening, he tugged on your arm, guiding you around “Let’s go somewhere warmer”

“What about Ron and Hermonie?” You asked, classes had ended for the day but the four of you intended to go outside together.

“I’m sure they can wait a little bit. Ron is quite tardy sometimes” Harry replied, eventually stopping at one of the emptier spots with a fireplace.

“Yeah that’s true” You mused out loud. Ron was quite stubborn, and if he wanted to finish something he would do so first, making you, Hermonie and Harry wait for him. Harry guided you so you would sit at the small sofa sitting in front of the fireplace, joining you on your seat. He cupped your chilly hands, bringing them close to his mouth and letting out a breath, rubbing them together to warm them up. The sight made you giggle, which made him smile but his confusion was evident in his gaze “What? Did I do something funny?”

“You’re like a fly!” You exclaimed, which just confused Harry further, his face puzzled

“What?” He asked, blinking rapidly. Of all things? He couldn’t say he was fond of the idea of being compared to a fly.

“You know, when they rub their little insect legs together?” You asked, making Harry make a noise of understanding, nodding and laughing with you.

“Seriously? You’re so weird sometimes” Harry said fondly, looking at you tenderly, the two of you going quiet for a moment, soaking in the closeness.

“But you like me weird, right?” You asked after a beat, getting closer to him for warmth.

“Yeah, I guess I do” He whispered, closing his eyes and leaning towards you

Meanwhile…

“Geez it’s quite cold in here, how long are they gonna take?” Ron asked to Hermonie, who shrugged.

“Maybe a teacher needed them?” Hermonie suggested, looking unaffected by the cold.

“How aren’t you cold?” Ron asked, pulling his jacket closer to his body.

“I used a spell!” Hermonie replied “Want me to use it on you?”

[inheartofwinter]

Drarry Fic Rec List: Us Vs The World

The list I want to show you to day is one I especially adore: fics with strong vibe of "us against the world". They could be good, they could be bad, they could save the world, they could destroy it, they could simply go on with their lives. No matter what, they will always have each other.

- Hell & Other Places (M; 2,5k) by @tepre

OR: 9 times Draco said ‘I love you’ and 1 time he didn’t.

Draco & Harry are sent to investigate a haunted Bed & Breakfast.

- Vis-à-Vis-à-Vis (E; 49999) by @vukovich

Harry's assignment was simple. Close out Draco Malfoy's missing persons case so he can be declared dead.

But who's making withdrawals from Malfoy's vaults? How is a death omen-turned-Unspeakable involved? Is an organization known as the Moirai to blame?

Harry brushes it off until he can't. Until The Prophet is flooded with sightings of dead people. Until Robards throws himself on his sword. Until Ron turns on his own family. Until Harry scarcely trusts his own reflection in the mirror and trusts the stranger in his bed even less.

Until all that stands between war and peace is Harry, a name plate, a stadium of murderers, and Draco Malfoy.

God save the Ministry.

- Basement Level 9 (M; 2k) by @fw00shy

Draco was behind the bomb that blew up Level 10, though they didn't talk about it.

- Stay with Me 'Til Morning (R; 8,4k) by Lucilla Darkate

In a once upon a time world, white magic would triumph over black, good would carry the day, evil would be vanquished, the valiant would stand and be true, and always, always, true love would end with a happily ever after.

- Purple Words (E; 67k) by FangirlWolfie

“High five me.”

James immediately put Harry down and gave him a high five.

Huh?

Oh.

- In Grey Worsted (M; 2,8k) by literaryspell

Harry's only chance at happiness is slipping away, one piece at a time. He isn’t about to give up, though.

- Ever Fixed Mark (T; 1,1k) by @shealwaysreads

In which Harry decides to burn the world, and Draco watches on with adoration.

Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no, it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken

Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

- Dead Ends (E; 18,8k) by @toxik-angel & @melcarrianna

Head Auror Harry Potter is the best at his job. Head Auror Harry Potter always saves the day.

But someone has been picking off ex-Death Eaters one by one. Someone has been abducting Harry's friends right out of their homes. Someone is fucking the Minister for Magic.

The Minister for Magic and Head Auror are both very concerned about it.

- Because Potter Is Allergic to Poppies (M; 41,1k) by Lomonaaeren

Auror Harry Potter is in hospital being treated for a curse when someone tries to kill him. Obviously it is up to bored, trapped Apprentice Healer Draco, who was only admitted to the Healer Program in the first place to do the menial work, to find out who did it. Because then they will promote him. No, it’s for no other reason, thanks.

- Toujours pur (T; 21k) by Veralynn

"Malfoy would never confess truth to an enemy, and we’re enemies to him. That’s way I made a plan.”

“A rat,” Harry said.

“Exactly. Someone I can trust one hundred per cent about You-Know-Who. Someone who knows well Malfoy and his past. That makes you the perfect candidate.”

- REVOLVEVLOVER (E; 46,3k) by @firethesound & zeitgeistic

The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for.

It’s just that he’s never deciphered a kill sheet and seen Draco Malfoy’s name on it.

Career Choices: Harry: Hit Wizard; Draco: Anti-Government Extremist

- Who we are in the shadows (E; 99,7k) by @quicksilvermaid

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise?

Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost.

But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself.

What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

- Draco Malfoy and the Heart of Slytherin (T; 34,9k) by sabershadowkat

At the heart of every Slytherin.

- The Boy and the Sleeping Prince (E; 26,7k) by @phoenix-acid & @writcraft

Harry is miserable and tired of being an Auror, coasting through life until he’s forced to make some changes. Spurred on by his passion for drawing and working with best-selling author Draco Malfoy, Harry develops a charm which gives children a magical, interactive reading experience. But when it’s time to test the spell, the two men find themselves trapped in a nightmarish fairy tale world. Can they escape unscathed, or is Draco right in his assertions that there is no such thing as a happily ever after?

Career Choices: Harry: Illustrator; Draco: Writer

- When Death Comes Calling (T; 2,6k) by @mystickitten42

It’s All Hallows’ Eve and as Harry investigates a string of seemingly related deaths, there’s one he hopes to prevent.

He looks over Harry’s shoulder and Harry turns too. They both see it, the dark translucent figure making its way to shore.

~ Or ~

Getting together in the face of Death. Literally.

- Servile (E; 68,5k) by calrissian18

“I would love anything you gifted me, My Lord, but this,” silver eyes, the same shade as the dragon that marked Harry's arm, glinted in his direction under the Death Eater’s hood, “is exquisite.”

- The Corruption Sequence series (E; 94,2k) by beren

Harry Potter is captured by Voldemort and the Dark Lord has plans for him that involve the essence of many different dark creatures. What Voldemort cannot know is that the presence of Draco Malfoy will affect the outcome of his plots and change everything.

- More Powerful Then Experience (M; 89,7k) by flightinflame

Harry's life changes when he is three, when his parents are murdered and the Dark Lord takes him to raise as his own.

Draco's life changes when he is six, when he finds himself given to a strange green-eyed boy who speaks Parseltongue and casts impossible magic.

Remus's life changes three years later, when a chance meeting proves to him that somehow James and Lily's son is still alive.

- The Gryffindor Prince (G; 6,3k) by @mfingenius

“Do not come near us again, evil Slytherins!” he exclaims, pointing his wand towards them again. Pansy and Blaise look more amused than anything, really, but they hold up their hands in surrender. 

“Alright,” Pansy says, agreeably enough, a smirk on her face. “But Potter, Draco’s a Slytherin, like us. He’ll have to come back eventually.”

Harry’s eyes narrow, and, a moment later, he is throwing Draco over his shoulder, arm tight across the back of his thighs so he won’t fall, and Draco yelps.

Have fun reading!

[letstrythisout4]

Hey, if you take requests, can you do series (bcz one-shot would be too short hehe), where reader is female and is really cocky, sassy and whatnot, basically giving off female Sirius Black vibes and she is very close with the golden trio, which makes them golden quartet. Anyway, I absolutely adore book Harry, because he is so SASSY!! So, could you make long imagine/series where book Harry and reader are both so sassy and stuff, but then Harry likes her and asks her out, but that is long time after, kinda semi-slow burn.

If you don’t like the idea or just don’t want to write it, it’s completely okay<3

♡︎✩⁂✽

Part 1:

“Shut up Malfoy.” an annoyed voice rang, interrupting Harry’s conversation with the pale sharp looking boy. 

Harry looked to where the voice came from and saw you. Leaning heavily on the right arm of the armchair, one hand pulling at your hair, the other holding a book that you appeared to be reading. “Don’t listen to him, this git has been told his whole life that it's Slytherin or nothing. None of the house are bad or good, they’re just places to sleep and anyone who says otherwise has a stick up their-”

“Enough. I know your parents wouldn’t be very happy to hear either of you speaking like that. Keep it up and I’ll have no choice but to tell your mothers.” Madame Malkin cut you off before you could finish your rant. 

“Yes ma’am.” the two tweens said politely, looking properly reprimanded despite the way you stuck your tongue out at the boy when the seamstress' back was turned. The woman finished her measurements and sent the boys to sit in the corner with you with instructions to “play nice”.

You decide to introduce yourself, shaking Harry’s hand with an air of self-importance that unlike Malfoy didn’t make Harry cringe. Harry watched as you interacted with the blonde boy, quick jabs were thrown at each other but they lacked the malice that Harry and Dudley had. A couple moments of ongoing debate later a haughty looking woman came over, “Draco, it’s time to leave.” She said your name kindly, “It was wonderful to see you, you must come by the Manor before school begins. Your mother is on her way, she said she won’t be long.”

You rolled your eyes as you let the woman kiss your forehead, “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Malfoy.” 

The woman waved away your thanks and turned expectantly to her son, “It was lovely to see you.” Draco said politely. After ten minutes of watching your verbal sparring , Harry couldn’t help but smirk at how the boy behaved in his mothers presence.

“Bye Draco.”

The moment the pair left the shop Harry had to ask, “Why are you friends with him?” The two of you hadn’t agreed on a single thing, only conceding briefly, most of your arguments had ended in ‘believe what you want to believe, and stay out of my way’. 

You flopped back in your seat stretching your arms upwards and yawning, “He’s not all that bad.” Harry gave a flat frown. “No seriously. He’s… we grew up together and we are distantly, distantly, related so it’s kind of an obligation. Also I’m not really allowed to talk to people, he’s one of like four kids our age I’m allowed to talk to. So better have an acquaintance I disagree with than nobody, you know.”

Harry actually didn’t know. He had never had the option, Dudley had always scared off anyone who remotely looked like they’d want to be his friend. His face must have shown his skepticism as you shrugged, “I don’t agree with him but pureblood circles are limited.” 

Before Harry could even begin to ask what that meant, a stoic looking man and woman entered the shop calling your name, “Well that’s my cue. It was nice to meet you and I’ll see you around, yeah?” You pushed out of your seat and waltzed into their eye-line before he could answer.

—

The next time Harry saw you was right before the sorting, you stood beside Malfoy looking disappointed at the boy’s behavior as he taunted Harry and Ron. He could vaguely hear you reprimanding Malfoy as the first years walked into the Great Hall. He watched as you walked up to the hat, back straight, head high, fist clenched as McGonagall placed the hat on your head. There was a long pause as the Hall waited, growing curiouser and curiouser as the minutes passed. Harry heard students turn to each other and whisper “Five minutes.” and later “Nine minutes!” Eventually the Hat called, “GRYFFINDOR!” and the table broke out into applause. 

You swiftly walked to the table, sitting beside Neville introducing yourself with a smile when the boy was visibly taken aback that you were speaking to him. “I was thinking this could be a fresh start for us, what happened on the outside is on the outside. What do you think?” you asked, looking hopeful. 

Neville’s mouth opened slightly in shock but quickly shook your hand, “Sounds brilliant.”

The sorting continued and the newly sorted Gryffindors ate to their heart's content. You introduce yourself to almost the entire table, smiling freely and brightly. Talking about classes and teachers you were excited for and how you dreaded the winter, despite it only being September. 

You only spared Harry a smile and a shoulder nudge as you walked up towards the stairs of the girl’s dorm. 

—-

“What did you idiots say to Hermione?” you snapped, strutting up to the pair's Herbology table. 

Harry and Ron shared a look.

You had quickly established yourself as young royalty at Hogwarts. Even those that didn’t like you, respected you. Ron said it was because you came from an old family, like the Malfoy’s and the Nott’s. Hence why none of the Slytherin’s messed with you, even though you were friends with most of their targets. 

Harry thought it was more than that. It was hard to not like you. You had the majority of the staff charmed, and completed tasks with an easy smile. Always one of the first to achieve a charm or potion. Plus everyone admired your loyalty, it had only been a month and everyone already knew not to get caught messing with Neville, Hermione and Dean. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Dean and Seamus had been innocently horsing around in a corridor when Seamus had shoved Dean a little too hard and he had knocked into a burly boy.

“Watch where you’re going Mudblood-”

CRUNCH!

If it wasn’t for the fact that apparition was impossible at Hogwarts, the student’s in the corridor would have sworn that was how you appeared. 

A strong punch right to the bridge of Marcus Flint’s nose had left the boy bloody. “Don’t ever talk like that again! If I ever hear you say that word again, I will personally make sure you never make it anywhere, Flint!” You grabbed Dean’s arm and pulled him away from the older boy before he could retaliate.

^^^^

The story spread like wildfire, the Hogwarts gossip mill adding its embellishments here and there. But the heart of the story changed the same, don’t fuck with your friends.

Hence why Ron looked ready to bolt at the sight of you, “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh so it was you then huh? I already told you nicely to leave her alone, Weasley.” You said crossing your arms. “Tell me what you said and don’t lie.”

Ron appeared to find his courage saying, “I said she was a nightmare and that no one could stand her.” Your mouth contorted in shock and fury. “But! But, I mean it’s true isn’t it? I mean she’s only got you.”

You smacked the red-head upside the head, “That’s so rude, Ronald! I mean, really!”

“It’s true!”

“I don’t care if it’s true! That’s a terrible thing to say about someone! She’s already getting bullied by Snape and some of the purebloods, she doesn’t need to be bullied by you too. Go apologize to her now, and then leave her the hell alone.” You walked away, linking arms with Neville who had also fallen under your protection after you hexed Pansy Parkinson into a week stay in the hospital wing. (Well technically no one knows it was you, Snape couldn’t find any evidence no matter how hard he tried, but…let's be real it was you.)

Ron looked at Harry for reassurance, but he could only shake his head. Honestly he had been working up the nerve to say something similar for the past few hours. Hermione had been missing for the past couple classes and it didn’t sit well with Harry.

This feeling was only amplified when Quirrel fainted, bursting into the Hall yelling something about a troll in the dungeon. Harry saw you, head bobbing through the crowd of Gryffindors searching for Hermione. He could hear you yelling at Percy, that he didn’t  understand, that “Hermione is missing! We have to go find her!” 

Percy grabbed you by your shoulders shaking you as the other prefect herded the Gryffindor students towards the dorms. “I’ll notify McGonagall immediately. But we “ he pointed to two of them “we can’t go looking for her.”

You made to sprint past him but Percy caught you by the arms, shoving you into a sixth year, ordering that they bring you to the common room.

Harry and Ron shared a quick glance before slipping away to find Hermione.

—

“I see that you’ve been developing some new friends.” Hermione heard your voice sing as you jumped onto her bed. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle at your theatrics. You batted your eyes at her, silently asking for details.

Hermione quite liked you, you were the first person to have ever stood up for her. Her entire life she’d dealt with bullying but nobody had stood beside her through it, so she was pleasantly surprised at how you took her under her wing. The first week had been hell, purebloods of all houses jinxing and hexing her but you had noticed. 

^^^^^^^

Hermione had been sitting alone at a Herbology table when you waved at her upon entering the room. You had set your stuff down briefly beside Malfoy (you were the only Gryffindor to routinely cross the unwritten house divide) “Why are you waving at her?” she heard Malfoy ask, sounding genuinely disgusted. “Do you even know who she is?”

“No but I’m not going to let her sit alone, that’s not nice.” you replied simply, picking up your things and moving beside Hermione. 

^^^^^^^

From then on you and Hermione had been thick as thieves. Hermione had always thought she needed to find her perfect match, someone who was more introverted, more studious, more rule-following; then she’d finally make friends.

And yet she didn’t mind you. Hermione had had her fair share of cocky kids being placed next to her in class. Growing up she was frequently the victim of teachers unofficially assigning her a talkative kid in an attempt to shut them up.

But when you sat next to her, self-assured and cocky beyond measure, she didn’t hate it. She wasn’t annoyed. Perhaps it was because you could back it up, easily being one of the best students. Perhaps it was because you aren’t a bully. Perhaps it was because you didn’t get offended when she asked you to stop talking so she could focus, only smiled and said “Of course.” and actually shutting up.

…Yeah that was a big part of it.

Either way, you had grown on her. (If she was being honest she was a little jealous of your confidence, even if it could be a bit much.)

“You’re the one who told me I should branch out.”

After the troll incident Hermione, Harry and Ron had become close. No longer relying on you as her person, her go-to, had been natural. The boys had apologized and all had been forgiven. Hermione hadn’t even really realized how she had begun to drift from you. No longer meeting up in the library to study or walking to classes together. 

“I did. And while I’m glad that you have, being honest here, I didn't think it was going to happen so soon. But I guess when you deal with a troll together, bonds grow.”

Hermione frowned at that. She didn’t want you to think she didn’t appreciate you. She liked the boys but you were her first friend, not only that but you were the first girl that didn’t make her feel inadequate. (At least not intentionally) 

She turned from her spot at her desk to look at you staring up at her bed curtains, “We’re still friends. You know that right? I mean the boys are great but you were here first, so that gives you priority.”

“Even with the troll?” you asked, pouting slightly. Hermione could tell you wanted it to sound like a joke but it was doing a terrible job of hiding your concern.

“Even with the troll.”

You were quiet and Hermione almost went on to continue to reassure you but then you spoke, “Well I am way better than those two so I guess I have nothing to worry about. I mean honestly, if you ever pick them over me, I’m checking you into St. Mungo’s.”

Hermione was quick to smack you with the nearest pillow, smiling as she heard you giggle despite the harsh hits.

The year was looking good with you, Harry and Ron by her side.

—--

Author's notes: sorry this took so long anon, I was racking my brain to find ways to insert this type of reader into the story in ways that would actually be interesting and not just rewrites of the story and I think I finally have a couple good ideas. 

Lemme know what you think and yes there will be more parts as requested, I don’t know when they will come out but there will be more.

(Note: we will see more sassy harry and reader in later parts)

[fanfic-she-wrote]

Second Chances

Beetlejuice x Lydia Deetz

Part 1 link

(Contains spoilers for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice⚠️)

Chapter 4

A couple days had passed since Lydia found out about true love’s kiss and unfortunately for her, Astrid couldn’t find anything further on the subject. She even resorted to googling it, but nothing came up except for some old Disney cartoons.

Betelgeuse even noticed something was up. Not only had he caught them in a couple of whispered conversations but also Lydia had been acting different towards him. He thought they were getting pretty close, but the past couple of days she seemed very distant and even a little cranky but only towards him.

So, in an attempt to get back in Lydia’s good graces, he decided he was going to make her a special dinner. As he cooked, he sang and danced around the kitchen while listening to some old Harry Belefonte songs which could be heard throughout the entire house. Luckily for him, Lydia wasn’t home at the moment and wouldn’t be bothered. Astrid on the other hand, was trying to study and found Betelgeuse’s singing very distracting. After about half an hour she couldn’t take it anymore. She closed her notebook and stormed downstairs into the kitchen, pushing the door wide open as she went.

“BJ! What are you doing?” She snapped, suddenly turning off the music.

“Oh hi Astrid! Didn’t know you were home. I’m making you and your mother dinner.” He answered her as he wiped his hands on his “kiss the cook” apron.

“You?” Astrid scoffed raising her eyebrows skeptically.

“What? You think I don’t know how to cook?” Betelgeuse asked turning to face her, feeling slightly offended.

She had to admit it did smell pretty good.

“Why?” She asked peering over his shoulder at the stove trying to see what he was making.

“Well, before I became the guy we all know and love today I was a bachelor and—“ He began, but Astrid interrupted.

“No, I meant why are you cooking us dinner?” She corrected herself.

“Can’t I do something nice for you guys?”

She raised her eyebrows again at him and folded her arms. Betelgeuse sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ok, Im just trying to get your mom to stop being mad at me.” He admitted. “She’s been acting all weird towards me lately.”

Astrid bit her lip, knowing why he mother had been acting that way. It was because of the whole true love’s kiss thing. She suddenly felt bad for him. He was actually being kind of sweet.

“Anything I can do to help?” She asked unfolding her arms.

Betelgeuse smiled, he hadn’t expected her to offer to help him.

“Well uh, can you dice up this onion for me? You wouldn’t want to see a grown man cry right?” He joked, making a knife appear out of thin air.

Astrid snorted at his joke and took the knife. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. She thought to herself as she quietly chopped the onion as he had asked.

Later, dinner was all ready and the table was set. Betelgeuse paced back and forth nervously waiting for Lydia to return home. He just hoped this worked, if not he didn’t know what would.

Suddenly, he heard the lock click and then the front door open. This was it. He thought heading into the entryway. “Hi, BJ!” She greeted him, unbuttoning her coat.

“Here let me help you with that.” Betelgeuse insisted as he suddenly appeared behind her and helped her slip out of her snow covered coat.

“Oh! Thanks!” She said surprised. Why was he being so nice? She wondered.

“Cmon, got dinner all ready for ya.” He told her, holding his arm out to escort her to the dining room. She eyed him suspiciously, but went along with it anyways.

He took her to the dining room and pulled out a chair for her and Astrid, then eventually sat down himself at the end of the table. “Hope you like it!” He said snapping his fingers making the bowl of pasta hover in the air as though an invisible waiter were serving them. Lydia and Astrid watched as their plates filled with spaghetti and meatballs. She looked down at the plate and examined it for a moment. It looked normal enough. She thought. No worms or other things in it that she could see.

Betelgeuse anxiously waited for her to take a bite first hoping she approved. She took a deep breath as she twisted her fork around the pasta and took a tiny bite. “Well?” He asked somewhat impatiently leaning forward. Even Astrid was started to feel nervous.

“It’s good!” Lydia finally answered nodding her head. He let out a sigh of relief and sat back in his chair. Astrid gave him a thumbs up from across the table making him smile.

They ate quietly enjoying their meal listening to some jazz playing softly in the background. Something about this wasn’t right. It was a little too nice, too normal for Betelgeuse. Lydia just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was up to something. Placing her fork down she turned to face him.

“Why are you being so nice? What do you want?” Lydia asked narrowing her eyes at him.

“Nothing. I just wanted to do something for ya.” He answered her honestly. Astrid stopped eating and looked up at them. She could feel the room suddenly become intense.

“You never do something unless there’s something in it for you. What do you want?” She asked again in a low serious tone.

“Nothing! Honestly babes!” Betelgeuse repeated throwing his hands up.

She shook her head and pushed the plate away. “Don’t lie to me Beetlejuice!” She hissed making him flinch.

“Mom!” Astrid gasped.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Betelgeuse yelled at her.

“You! It’s always something with you!” She snapped standing up, Betelgeuse following suit.

“It’s not this time! I’m just trying to make you happy.” He insisted.

“Mom…stop!” Astrid said pulling on her mother’s sleeve trying to calm her down.

“You want to make me happy? Leave me alone! Stop trying to marry me! I’m not your true love! I can’t change you back. So just do yourself a favor and go find somebody else to haunt!”

“What?” Betelgeuse stood there dumbfounded, not believing what he just heard. How did she know about that?

Without another word, she left the room, her footsteps could be heard heading up the stairs and slowly fading away as she disappeared into her room.

“BJ…” Astrid began, but he didn’t want to hear it. With a puff of smoke, he was gone too leaving her sitting there alone.

She had to tell him. About the book, about true love’s kiss, everything. If he came back…

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