#sorry for the lack of posts this long form fic is all i’ve been working on | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

purrincess-chat · 8 hours ago

Text

Adrien Agreste's Road to Recovery Playlist CH2

Surprise~ Sorry it took so long to upload this. School is an unforgiving mistress, but I'm off for the summer now, and I want to tackle this fic more aggressively. I came up with an idea for this fic in the interim, so I tweaked one minor thing in chapter 1, nothing you need to completely reread it for unless you just want to, but I will say moving forward to pay attention to the details in this fic ;) The first person to figure everything out will get brownie points. I am about halfway through chapter 3, and my goal is to have that one ready to post by my birthday in a couple weeks. I don't have a lot going on this month, so I'm going to try and hold myself to that. Anyway, enjoy~

**Also as an aside, another character you should know about if you didn't read MDCSPR is Danielle, Marinette's assistant who was hired after her fashion brand took off. She's not majorly important, but she is in this chapter, so just to avoid any confusion on who she is XD

Previous Chapter >> Next Chapter

Read on AO3

Chapter 2

♪♫ this is me trying ♪♫

“I’ve been having a hard time adjusting.”

- - -

When Adrien woke a few hours later, he jolted upright, eyes flicking around the unfamiliar room, but memories of the previous day followed by a few deep breaths slowed the hammering of his heart. Marinette was gone, likely back upstairs to her room to avoid a lecture from her father about sharing a bed with her boyfriend. The digital clock on the small desk an arms-length away from his bed read 5:23AM, but his mind was awake and racing, making any hope of falling asleep again pointless.

Swinging his legs around to the floor, Adrien stood up with a pained hiss as his knee twinged in protest, still sore from his fall on the concrete. He hobbled over to the bathroom where he found some lidocaine cream and rubbed it onto the forming purple bruise. It helped, a little anyway, and he continued upstairs. The lack of loud snoring coupled with the intensifying scent of fresh bread as he climbed the stairs signaled that M. Dupain was already awake and hard at work in the bakery downstairs.

The living room was dark and still, and Adrien paused at the base of the stairs leading up to Marinette’s room, tugging at the hem of his shirt. It was way too early to wake Marinette up, and after chasing him around in the cold for an hour, he doubted she’d be too happy if he did. He could see if M. Dupain needed any help in the bakery, but he didn’t know the first thing about baking. Actually, he’d probably be more of a hindrance than a help… Maybe he could make breakfast?

Adrien maneuvered his way to the fridge in the dark, wincing against the light when he opened it, and as he scanned the shelves, it dawned on him that he also didn’t know the first thing about cooking. He’d always wanted to learn, but his father forbade him from using the stove, a memory that brought with it flashes of dark grey he’d rather not think about, so he shut the fridge with a huff. Breakfast was off the table until Mme. Cheng woke up, he supposed.

He could go for another run, but his knee throbbed at the very thought. Video games? He wasn’t in the mood, besides he didn’t want to wake anyone up, which also ruled out TV. School was out for Christmas, all of his friends were probably asleep, he didn’t see his therapist again for a few days, and there were no lessons or photoshoots scheduled for him. There was no schedule for him. The thought made his pulse race. Although part of him had known having a packed daily schedule organized for him by his father’s assistant wasn’t normal, in a strange way, he relied on it. For so long it had been his normal, and without it…

Adrien sat on the couch quietly, chewing the inside of his cheek and curling and uncurling his fingers. It was all he knew how to do in the moment. Sit. Wait for instructions. Wait for permission. Gray eyes. He sighed. He couldn’t take his anxiety meds for a few more hours, besides he needed to take them with food, which he didn’t know how to cook. Gray eyes. Deep breaths.

5:38 AM according to his phone. It wasn’t the slowest time had ever moved for him, but he did find himself wishing someone would wake up to keep him company. While he had his phone out, he clicked the icon for Instagram, and Marinette’s private page popped up with a picture from their homecoming party the day before. In it, their cheeks were pressed together while M. and Mme. Dupain-Cheng held up a cake in the background. There were several messages from their friends, expressing happy sentiments at his return to the outside world and wishing him well. He smiled, liking several comments before continuing to scroll. He’d missed a lot in a few short months — birthday parties, sporting events, charity drives, plays. His friends had kept busy while he was away, not that he expected any different.

He kept scrolling and liking posts, doing his best to avoid any mentions of the incident, but it was only a matter of time before he stumbled across news footage of his father’s mugshot. He closed the app and tossed his phone to the side, squeezing his eyes shut. Grey eyes, hard and cold. He wanted Marinette.

Before he could jump up and run to her room, the light clicked on over the stairs leading to down to the rest of the apartment, and tired footsteps made their way up. Adrien’s heart pounded nervously, and he did his best to mask his anxiety as Mme. Cheng appeared.

“Oh!” She startled, clutching her chest when she saw Adrien sitting awkwardly in the living room. “I didn’t know you were up. Why are you sitting in the dark?”

“I didn’t want to wake anyone up…” he said timidly.

“Oh, dear.” Mme. Cheng placed a hand over her heart. “You’re very thoughtful, but I’m not sure you could wake Marinette if you tried. It’s why she’s always late to school.”

She flicked on the light in the kitchen, and Adrien squinted as his eyes adjusted.

“Are you hungry? I can make some breakfast. Marinette won’t be up for a while, so don’t plan to wait for her,” she said.

“Yes, please.” Adrien shifted his weight as Mme. Cheng moved about the kitchen with purpose. “Can I help with anything?”

“Sure, dear. You can fill the kettle with water for coffee.” She nodded to the electric kettle.

Easy enough. Adrien carried it to the sink and filled it to the line with water. Once that was finished, he stood and patiently waited for his next instruction, and after a moment Mme. Cheng flicked her gaze between him and the kettle. He offered her a small smile, and she pointed to the warmer on the counter.

“Set it there and press the button on the side.” She retrieved the leftover bread from the previous day and sliced it to make toast.

“Right.” That felt obvious.

She moved about the small kitchen with ease, knowing exactly where everything was. Adrien, by contrast, didn’t know where anything was, and stood awkwardly by the fridge while she worked. Feeling in the way, he opted to set the table with two plates and mugs. He sat quietly and watched her work, taking mental notes of what was in each cabinet and drawer for future reference. If the sleepless nights continued, he didn’t want to wait for someone to wake up every time.

“Did you sleep alright?” she asked as she set butter and several jams on the table in front of him.

Adrien didn’t have the heart to tell her what transpired after she and her husband went to bed, so he simply said, “Yeah.”

Mme. Cheng gave him a knowing smile. “It will take some time to adjust, but we hope that you’ll be comfortable here.”

“Thank you — for everything,” he said.

He watched as she pressed the coffee, which she seemed to notice because she held up the kettle and asked, “Would you like some?”

“Uh, sure!” He averted his gaze, cheeks hot after being called out. “Sorry, it’s just that… you do everything so effortlessly, and I can barely figure out how to work a kettle. I’ve always had someone to do everything for me, and being here has me realizing that I don’t know how to be a regular kid.”

“Well—” Mme. Cheng filled his mug — “there are no maids or personal chefs or assistants here, despite Marinette begging to hire someone to do her laundry for her now that she has money to spare. It’s important that we all learn how to do things for ourselves. It’s how we learn to be responsible and appreciate what we have. You’ll learn with time.”

Adrien stared at his reflection in the cup and pursed his lips. “Could you teach me how to make breakfast?”

Mme. Cheng searched his expression, then nodded him over. “Of course.”

Adrien had been taken care of his whole life, or as he’d come to realize through months of therapy, he’d been managed his whole life. Never allowed to make his own decisions. Never allowed to have any kind of independence. Instead, he was expected to perform under a spotlight he never asked for, a pretty show pony in a cage. His father had treated him more like a pedigree poodle than a son.

The Dupain-Cheng’s were different. Marinette knew how to do everything her parents did around the house, and even now, she was expected to. A normal girl with a normal life. Or mostly normal anyway. And for the first time in his life, an adult was treating him like a normal kid. Mme. Cheng was patient and kind as she explained each step to him. Sure, making coffee and toasting some bread wasn’t that difficult, but it was a step. And to him it meant the world.

After breakfast, Mme. Cheng retreated back to her room to dress for the day, and Adrien was left alone again. He tried not to pace, but after several minutes of silence, he couldn’t fight the twitch in his legs. The living room was bigger than his bedroom, but it still wasn’t enough. With a sigh, he turned his attention to the details of the room in an attempt to take his mind off things. Old family photos from Marinette’s childhood were scattered on the walls and bookshelf. She was cute and smiled so freely, unlike the portraits that adorned the walls of his childhood home that bore more somber expressions. He curled his hands into tight fists and resumed pacing.

Mme. Cheng emerged again after a while, but she headed down to the bakery to help her husband open for the day. Adrien flopped back on the couch and picked up the latest issue of Audrey’s magazine resting on the coffee table. Marinette’s brand had a center spread, unsurprisingly. He’d been out of the loop for so long, the designs were foreign to him, contrasting the closeness they’d shared last summer. She used to show him all of her designs excitedly before sending them to Audrey. A chill pricked his spine, and Adrien shivered. He tossed the magazine back on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch.

Snow flurries drifted in the breeze outside, and Adrien rested his cheek against the pillows, watching white flecks out the kitchen window and picturing the bygone summer when things were simpler. Back then, their problems seemed so large. Adrien knew now just how tiny they really were. Lila’s meddling seemed so trivial now.

He closed his eyes, imagining the warm summer sun on his bare shoulders while they lounged by the pool at the Grand Paris. The gentle pressure of Marinette’s lips on his own and the soft curl of her fingers around his hand. He’d never been happier.

Lost to his fantasies, he must have dozed off because the windows were brighter when Mme. Cheng returned to the apartment, the smell of fresh croissants wafting in with her. Adrien blinked a few times to reorient himself. She offered him a smile, setting a plate of buttery pastries on the kitchen table.

“I brought up a snack if you’re still hungry,” she said. “You can turn on the TV if you’d like. There’s not much on this early other than the news though.”

“I’m okay,” Adrien said.

Mme. Cheng clicked on the news anyway before retreating down to her bedroom.

The ceiling creaked above him, sluggish footfalls thudding against the hard wood floor signaling that Marinette was awake. He traced her steps all the way to the trap door, which opened as Marinette emerged in the same fluffy pink pajamas she’d been in when she rescued him. Her hair was frizzy and poked out in places, and she descended the stairs with a yawn.

“You’re up early,” Adrien remarked.

“I have a job now,” she grumbled.

He stood up to greet her with a kiss, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest.

“How did you sleep?” she asked.

“Better,” he said. “But more importantly, I learned something new today.”

“Oh?”

“Your mom taught me how to make breakfast.” He grinned. “Would you like some?”

A smile curled on her lips, and she stretched up to kiss him again. “I’d love some.”

Adrien moved to the kitchen, clumsier and less refined than Mme. Cheng, but he was able to produce two pieces of toast and a fresh cup of coffee for her — two creams and one sugar, just how she liked. He presented it to her with a proud beam that earned him an affectionate hair ruffle.

“Thank you, kitty,” she said. “Will you get me a yogurt from the fridge?”

“Of course.” He handed it to her with a bow.

The doorbell rang as Adrien sat next to Marinette at the table, and Mme. Cheng emerged from downstairs to answer it. Heels clacked against the wood floors as Marinette’s assistant approached, dressed in a tasteful Marinette-branded pantsuit with her nose buried in a tablet. Adrien recalled Nathalie doing the same to him every morning, but the thought brought with it flashes of things he was trying not to think about, so he shifted his gaze to the table.

“Morning, Danielle,” Marinette said.

“You have another long day ahead of you, Marinette. You’re presenting your summer collection to be carried in several boutiques around Paris, then you have a magazine interview, lunch with Audrey and a couple investors, plus you promised to make an appearance at the De-akumatize foundation,” Danielle recited.

“Right.” Marinette sighed. She shoved a large spoonful of yogurt in her mouth, then retreated back upstairs to get dressed.

Mme. Cheng offered Danielle a cup of coffee while they waited, and she helped herself to a croissant. Adrien drummed his fingers on his thighs, watching Danielle expectantly.

She offered him a smile and asked, “How are you, Adrien?”

“I’m…” He would spare her the details. “Adjusting.” That seemed safe.

“Good.” She nodded, taking a sip of coffee.

She and Mme. Cheng struck up a conversation about Marinette’s work, and after a couple minutes, Adrien cleared his throat.

“So, what’s on my schedule today?” he asked.

Mme. Cheng and Danielle eyed him a moment, the same crease bending their brows. It was a look Adrien knew all too well at this point — the look of pity. Every time he saw it, his pulse quickened, and the small hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

“Well, dear, you can do whatever you want,” Mme. Cheng said finally.

Adrien pursed his lips, mulling that statement for a moment. “Shouldn’t I accompany Marinette?”

“It’s best if you stay behind today,” Danielle said. “You haven’t been officially reintroduced into the public yet since your release, and we’ve already been getting phone calls from reporters who want to hear your side of the story. If you’re seen publicly now, the press will have a field day, so it’s better if you lay low until we can discuss how to navigate your…circumstances.” She said the last word delicately, almost as if she were apologizing.

Adrien turned to Mme. Cheng, who offered him a similarly apologetic wince.

“So… What? I just stay inside all day?” His stomach churned at the thought.

“I know it’s not what you want, but it’s not forever.” Mme. Cheng moved to cup his cheek. “You can do whatever you want in the apartment. There’s games and books, you can watch TV or a movie or anything you want.”

Adrien lowered his gaze, tears burning in his eyes, but Marinette’s return shifted everyone’s attention. She descended the stairs in a long pink trench coat that covered black dress pants and a pink blouse, a pair of black heels in her hands. Adrien shoved his dejection down and offered her a smile as she trotted over to kiss him goodbye.

“I’m sorry we can’t spend more time together this morning, but I’ll be back this afternoon, okay?” she said.

“Kay.”

“Tom and I will be downstairs in the bakery if you need anything,” Mme. Cheng said.

Adrien nodded, painting on a smile as everyone left him alone, but once the apartment door shut behind them, he deflated. He thought things would be different here, but so far, it was more of the same. Everyone had places to be without him, and as usual, he was left alone, unable to go out or do anything that wasn’t contained within four walls. He shook himself and took a deep breath.

Mme. Cheng was right. It wouldn’t be forever. No one had any intention of locking him up for long. They just needed a few days to sort some things out. He could totally survive a few days. Afterall, he’d survived 15 years already, and technically one of those years he was allowed to go outside and meet people… It sounded sad, now that he thought about it. But the Dupain-Cheng’s weren’t like his father. Everything was new for them too, and in time, they would all adjust…

Adrien resumed pacing the living room. It was bigger than his small bedroom, but the arrangement of the furniture made it difficult to keep a steady pace. After a few loops, he determined it wasn’t as satisfying and retreated back downstairs. Although the rigidity of his daily routine had been monotonous and grating at times, he missed the structure. Even in the hospital, he had a fixed schedule. What did one do with free time? His muscles were twitchy, and he couldn’t bring himself to sit still. What would he normally have done before?

Well, most of his mornings started with some kind of workout, though the Dupain-Cheng’s didn’t have a personal gym to use, let alone any equipment. Then again, he hadn’t had any in the hospital either, but that didn’t stop him then. He didn’t need weights to work out. A treadmill might have been nice for some cardio, but he supposed the previous night counted enough for that. He did pushups, stretched, completed a few sets of crunches, he even used Marinette’s loft to do some pull-ups, but all of that only took him about twenty minutes.

What was next? A shower, usually, but that only lasted another thirty minutes because the water got cold. He wasn’t used to the water getting cold. Did other people live like this? Were they really walking around with limited hot water? Was this normal? Ugh, he was starting to sound like Chloe, but seriously, only thirty minutes of hot water?! How did anyone wash anything?

Contemplating the complexities of social classes only lasted twenty minutes before he started to feel guilty for all of the things he took for granted, and the anxiety made him want to pace again. In an attempt to take his mind off of things, he cracked open his school notes and tried to study while he paced, but it got boring quickly. He’d studied on his own for years, and it wasn’t the same as being in a classroom with other people. At least in the hospital, there was a tutor to review with him.

Adrien flopped onto his bed with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling again. His vision blurred, and a hot tear sliced down his cheek. It had taken several months of therapy for him to come to terms with events from his life, and even now, he was still processing a lot of things. He was still feeling a lot of things. Too many things.

Everyone was treating him the same way his father had, locking him up and hiding him from the world. No, this was different. They weren’t controlling him; they were protecting him. Isn’t that what his father used to say? It was different this time. But how could they leave him alone knowing what he’d been through? Didn’t they realize that he’d spent his whole life locked away and alone? Why would they leave him?

The burning tightness filled his chest, leaving Adrien gasping as if there wasn’t enough air. He rolled onto his side and curled into a ball, his ragged gasps and whimpers echoing in the barren room. Hands shaking, lungs burning, vision blurring. He needed to calm down. Marinette loved him. M. and Mme. Dupain-Cheng loved him. It wasn’t their fault they had things to do. They just needed to find where he belonged. If he belonged. He was still bothered about the shower thing. On second thought, maybe a cold shower would shock his system.

He returned to the bathroom and flicked on the shower again. The cold water felt like needle pricks on his skin, but it did snap him out of his spiral for the moment. What was wrong with him? Aside from the years of pent up daddy issues and the psychological control he’d endured. Actually, no, that was exactly what was wrong with him. He wished he could call his therapist… He could call his therapist!

Adrien turned off the shower, shivering as he grabbed another towel and wrapped it around his shoulders. Once he’d warmed up a little, he dried off and dressed again before heading upstairs to retrieve his phone. It took a few rings, but finally, his therapist answered.

“Hello, Adrien.”

“Hey, sorry, do you have a minute?” Adrien had resumed pacing the living room’s unsatisfying loop.

“I have an appointment coming in a few minutes, but I can spare a moment. Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Well…” Adrien explained his struggles, and she listened, just like always. “I guess, I just can’t figure out why I feel this way. I’ve wanted the freedom to do whatever I want my whole life, but now, in a weird way, I find myself feeling envious of my girlfriend for having a schedule. I just don’t know what to do with myself.”

“So, you’re struggling to adjust?”

“Yeah…” Adrien shifted his gaze to his feet.

“That’s normal.”

Adrien stopped, eyebrows knitting together in bewilderment. “Normal?”

“Well, normal for someone with your experiences,” she said. “You’ve never been allowed to make your own decisions, and that is damaging, but when it’s all you’ve ever known, it can also feel safe because it’s familiar. And now, you’ve been pushed into unfamiliar territory, and it’s going to be scary and uncomfortable at first. You may even find yourself craving the old ways because it’s what you were used to.”

Adrien was amazed at the ease with which she recognized exactly how he was feeling. “So, what should I do?”

“Tell you what, I have to go, but we will do more occupational therapy next time you come in and explore what Adrien likes. Until then, I’ll send in an adjustment to your medication now that you’re back out in the real world. Hopefully it will help with the pacing,” she said.

“Okay,” Adrien said. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I was actually expecting to hear from you before our next appointment.” When he remained quiet, she added, “Adjusting will take time, Adrien. You’ll get there.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“I’ll see you next week, okay?” she said.

“Yeah, see you then.” Adrien hung up.

He felt a little better, but being alone in the apartment still made him anxious, so he headed downstairs to the bakery. Marinette’s parents were hard at work preparing more bread and pastries for the displays. It made Adrien feel bad for interrupting, but when M. Dupain saw him, he flashed Adrien a smile.

“Getting lonely, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck guiltily.

“Why don’t you invite someone over, dear?” Mme. Cheng suggested.

“Uh, can I?” Adrien asked. “I’d hate to let people intrude in your home.”

“It’s your home now too, you know,” Mme. Cheng said.

“Alright.” He shifted his weight. “Um, also I called my therapist, and she’s going to adjust my medication. Could you pick it up when it’s ready?”

“I’ll add it to my to do list.” She nodded.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Here, take a pain au chocolat for a snack.” M. Dupain bagged one up for him.

“I can’t pay for it…” Adrien curled his shoulders.

“Family doesn’t pay in this bakery,” he said.

A small smile curled on Adrien’s lips, and he thanked them both before heading back upstairs. The croissant was still warm when Adrien bit into it, the chocolate melty and delicious between the buttery layers. He’d definitely get used to living above a bakery. While he ate, he scrolled his contacts for someone to invite over. It was winter break, but everyone was always so busy. Plus, he couldn’t go anywhere. What he wouldn’t give to go see a movie with Nino or to play tennis with Eliott and Martin.

Marinette’s picture flashed on his screen, and Adrien swiped the green icon to answer.

“Hello, my kitty!” She sounded so cheerful, and Adrien had never been happier to hear her voice.

“Hey, buginette. How’s work?”

“Busy,” she said. “Very busy. I’m sorry I had to leave you today, and I know I promised we’d spend time together this afternoon, but one of the investors had something come up, so we had to reschedule lunch with them for another day, but now there’s a problem with a sample, and we have a show coming up in a month, and-”

“No worries. I get it. I’m actually doing fine on my own,” Adrien said. He had a lot of practice masking his disappointment.

“I can tell when you’re lying, Adrien.”

Not enough practice apparently. There really was no hiding anything from her. She knew him so well, and although it was working against him in the moment, it felt good to be seen by someone.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you, but until then, I’m sending in some reinforcements to keep you company in my absence,” she said.

The doorbell rang, and on the other side stood Nino, Eliott, and Martin with two boxes of pizza.

“Bro, you’re finally free!” Nino hugged his neck.

“Marinette told us you were in need of some guy time,” Eliott said.

“We brought pizza and games,” Martin added.

Tears welled in Adrien’s eyes, a smile stretching over his lips. It was the first genuine smile he’d had in a while.

“Have fun, kitty. I love you,” Marinette said in his ear.

“I love you too,” he said.

Nino draped an arm around him as they moved to the living room. “It’s been forever since we’ve seen you. I missed you, bro.”

“I missed you guys too,” Adrien said.

“Isn’t it so nice now? We can just hang whenever we want, and we don’t have to worry about your dad breathing down our necks,” Nino said.

“Yeah…” Adrien glanced between them, the weight of those words sinking in.

Nino was right. He was free. His father was locked up, and from the sound of it, wouldn’t be getting out anytime soon. All of his earlier frustrations seemed to melt away, and the worries he’d held seemed so obviously false. Things were different now. No one wanted him to be alone. Everyone loved him and would do anything for him. Perhaps he’d felt so anxious because his father had always limited anything good in his life, and maybe in a way, he had felt like all of this would go away too. But as he settled into a board game with his friends, the looming feeling of dread on the back of his neck eased. This was his life now. He could have friends over whenever he wanted, and soon enough, he’d be able to go anywhere he wanted. And one day, his father’s shadow would stop looming over him for good.

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #adrinette #adrien agrestes road to recovery playlist #aartrp #my writing #aarrp

4 notes · View notes

uhbasicallyjustmilex · 2 months ago

Note

i don’t wanna put any pressure but omggg when is a new chapter of four walls coming out??? i’m so excited to read the rest of the story 😭

you’re so sweet, thank you 🥺🫶

i’ll be honest: i don’t know when the next chapter will be out. i’d love to give you a concrete answer (or just the chapter!), but the truth is i’ve been really struggling with lack of inspiration and confidence with four walls over the last few months. i’m a terrible perfectionist about my writing, and four walls is the longest thing i’ve written in about ten years, and also the thing i’m most proud of. in my brain, rather than that being something positive and motivational, it’s felt like a lead weight of pressure on my shoulders. i’ve felt absolutely paralysed by the fear of ruining something that means so much to me, and it’s been an incredibly frustrating thing to have to deal because i care so, so much about these characters and so want to do their story justice.

if i’m honest, if i didn’t care so much about them i know i would have given up on this fic months ago. i still feel like giving up on it, sometimes. but i just can’t quite make myself because they have their roots too deep in my heart i owe it to them to finish their story, and also to all you amazing readers who’ve supported me along the way with it (i’m so grateful to you, you don’t even know 💗). i’m trying to learn how to navigate all my mental blocks as i keep going with it, but it’s been a very up and down process where i haven’t always managed to avoid falling into the pitfalls of self-criticism and despair. however i AM slowly making progress. i just want to make sure i feel certain enough of the trajectory in the next few chapters before i start posting again, but i very much hope it won’t be too long before chapter twelve is up and ready for reading on ao3. i promise i will share it as soon as i can 🫶

sorry, i know this probably isn’t the answer you were looking for and i hate disappointing people 😞 but i wanted to be upfront about where i’m at with my writing of it, because i think i owe anyone who’s ever read and supported my work that! thank you so much for your lovely enthusiasm, it truly means so much to know people still care about this fic even though it’s been forever since there was a new chapter for it. you’re an angel 💓

sidenote: if any artists or writers have experience with the stuff i’ve mentioned here and have figured out good ways of dealing with it then please feel free to share! full disclosure, i’m doing a lot of work in therapy around perfectionism and self-criticism (amongst other things lol), but only in a much broader sense. unfortunately, those things seem to be most deeply ingrained in my creative mind, which is incredibly annoying given that writing is my deepest form of joy and escapism. it frustrates the hell out of me honestly lol. and i’m slowly getting better at dealing with it i think, but i’m also impatient and would love if i could just make it disappear. so yeah, if anyone has any tips or tricks for navigating this stuff do chip in!

#god sorry this ended up being such a long answer 🙈#four walls #milex #asks

4 notes · View notes

paperstarwriters · 2 months ago

Text

Life update stuff!!

Hey sorry everyone for the lack of fics lately and ESPECIALLY SORRY to the Anon who made a request for a fic!! Just kinda busy rn—swamped with schoolwork & preparing for a bunch of extracurricular events and whatnot for both myself and my siblings, and on top of all that I’m trying to get a job. Overall I don’t think I’ll be working on or posting any fics until this semester is over—

Although…

I’ve been considering doing very loose-y goose-y drabble to fill up space, just proposing the ideas I have for AUs or scenarios and then providing a fleshed out fic later if people really want it. Idk. I always feel like I ought to present all my ideas as a full fic but I’ve noticed that many of my favorite fic authors who just seem to churn out fic stuff for characters tend to do this so idk!

I’ll probably still do my best to post fully sledged out fics when given requests (I’m still so sorry for that one person who requested a soul eater x arcana fic I couldn’t come up with any ideas in the end and now the request is gone 😭😭😭) but just so that there aren’t eternities between me posting things…. Idk

Thing is I worry that focusing on quick short form stuff will lead me to neglect the long form fics I have brewing in the background (they’re multi-chapter but I HAVE to write it all before I post it because I KNOW myself and if you look at my multi-chapter fics on ao3 you’ll know me too lmao)

But then again, making it into even shorter even looser drabbles means I’ll spend less time on the extra ideas that cling to me with more time for the long fics! Idk idk idk.

I’d like to hear your guys’ opinions on these things though! (I’ll do a poll if someone asks for one. But for now just respond in comments/tags pls!

#long ish post #paper’s chatter #writing update #the arcana

3 notes · View notes

memryse · 4 years ago

Text

The magic of 3rd Life, or why such a simple hardcore miniseries works as well as it does

For a series which only lasted for eight sessions, 3rd Life has had a profound impact on the MCYT fandom. While it did go comparatively unnoticed on Twitter (as is consistent with YouTube-based Minecraft content as a whole, admittedly), Tumblr and other platforms have fallen in love with this series, and it’s become a vector for many fans to familiarise themselves with Hermitcraft and Empires SMP as well. But at its core, 3rd Life is a simple vanilla survival series with a gimmick. What about it resonates so much with so many people?

I would argue that its simplicity, its small cast, its vanilla gameplay “with a twist” is certainly part of it. It’s an easy series to consume, with many POVs totalling four hours or less, and it doesn’t require any prior knowledge of any of the members. Its mechanics are easy to understand. As a standalone, it functions perfectly – it’s immersive and can be followed easily by anyone, regardless of any prior knowledge they may or may not have. However, these factors alone don’t quite encompass what makes 3rd Life so special. Its true charm point lies in the format of the series, and how well it utilises improv.

[more below the cut; this is a fairly long post about 3rd/Last Life meta and my love of its improv. I'm mostly talking about 3rd Life here as it's a completed series, but this most definitely does apply to Last Life as well]

3rd Life is an entirely improv-based series. Whilst members may have a brief concept of the direction they’d like to take their series in – how heavily they want to roleplay, for example – the actual content of each session is fully improvised. Each episode is recorded in one three-hour block, and members are not allowed to play on the server outside of the allotted time other than specifically to finish builds. This time constraint prevents any planning from going into each episode, and interactions between players are completely spontaneous. Players simply run around the map looking for others to interact with (which is significantly easier with the limited world border) and chat about various events on the server, form alliances or deals, etc.

By definition, this almost completely negates the possibility of bad writing. Each player’s reaction to any server event is spontaneous, a legitimate reaction; they aren’t trying to play any specific roles or shoehorn in any specific events (with the exception of the Red King/Hand of the King roles, who were still completely improvising). Even the finale – a distinctly heart-wrenching and tragic scene – was improvised without Grian or Scar attempting to tell any specific story. According to Martyn, they weren’t roleplaying, they didn’t have any aims with that scene. It just happened to turn out in the way that it did, and they were legitimately sorry to one another. The server progressed in this natural way, and every person’s perspective tells a completely different story. It’s hard to identify any specific heroes or villains – fans of the Dream SMP can surely relate to this feeling, but I would argue that 3rd Life takes this one step further. 3rd Life is a tragedy from all perspectives, a tragedy which tells one cohesive story in its entirety before stopping as abruptly as it began.

3rd Life hinges entirely on its interactions between its members. Whilst solo content does exist – base building, for example – the majority of each session is spent interacting with others. 3rd Life is carried by its dialogue; nothing else drives the story, and yet many episodes are between 30 minutes and an hour long. It’s that dialogue-heavy. Members of the server have expressed trouble with even editing their videos because there is so much key dialogue that they don’t want to cut. People don’t watch 3rd Life for the actual gameplay, at all – there’s so little of it! They watch it for how each member interacts with the people around them. This is something not found in any other SMP I’ve encountered. SMPs livestreamed on Twitch have plenty of downtime, and people will happily watch streams on that SMP no matter what’s occurring on the server; people often watch them for their interest in specific members. Other currently popular YouTube SMPs, namely Hermitcraft and Empires, are well-balanced between solo content and interactions, and all server content hinges on the members’ various skills like building and redstone. 3rd Life is, to my knowledge, the only SMP which does not rely on building or redstone skills (what’s the point, when they’ll be dead the next week?), it doesn’t rely on the creator doing solo work talking to their chat, it doesn’t rely on planned roleplay. People legitimately just want to hear various members talking to each other. It’s a fascinatingly unique series in this regard. This dialogue-heavy aspect of 3rd Life ties back to my earlier point about 3rd Life feeling like a completely different series from all perspectives; with all of this dialogue being conveyed through proximity chat, so many events are entirely left out of other POVs, or presented in very different lights.

The pure improv format also helps significantly with worldbuilding, whilst also leaving plenty to the imagination. MCYT fandoms always require a significant amount of imagination to become invested in them, let alone make fan content of them, and 3rd Life is no exception to this. As discussed in this post, which was incidentally the inspiration for me to write this one, 3rdLife is full of lines which flesh out the series, which illustrate what happened better than can be shown in Minecraft. These lines are improvised on the spot, and are often complete throwaway lines in the creators’ eyes. In the fans’ eyes, they make 3rd Life feel alive, they provide plenty of material on which to base headcanons. Again, this isn’t necessarily unique to 3rd Life, it’s a common aspect of all Minecraft series, but I think this is where the rather angsty nature of 3rd Life comes into play. A dramatic survival game, entirely unscripted, with all events hinging entirely on your interpretation of them? It’s not hard to see why 3rd Life fans are so creative with character designs and fanfiction – hell, a lot of 3rd Life fics simply narrate canon in their own more dramatic light. Canon-compliant fics are significantly more common for 3rd Life than other fandoms I've encountered, because people hear these simple lines and want to dramatise them, put their own spins on them. I don't feel that this would be possible with any other series, not to the extent that 3rd Life fans do it. Other series' canon is either already dramatic, and so rehashing it can feel repetitive, or so lighthearted that people write AUs/new storylines. 3rd Life strikes a brand-new balance.

The development of its characters is also bolstered by improv. As no events on the server are pre-planned, members have to react completely spontaneously to anything that occurs. They don’t get time to think – only to react as though they genuinely were in that situation. As I said at the start, 3rd Life inherently lacks bad writing, because it’s not written. Ren, for instance, began 3rd Life as a kind and harmless person, with others often walking right over him. His reaction to his death by Grian and Scar’s trap spurs him to become the Red King; he raises an army and goes to war, and ends the series having taken countless lives, becoming hardened by war. He begins Last Life by isolating himself from others, seeming jaded and unwilling to form alliances, ready for another war to break out. Being improvised, it’s impossible to say how much of this was deliberate, or if Ren just started building his base without thinking about continuity from the previous season. This improv is what makes it feel so natural. It isn’t planned beforehand. This is Ren’s natural reaction to starting Last Life. It makes his character feel so much more real than it would if this was all scripted beforehand.

3rd Life is, overall, a testament to the power of improv. It manages to be compelling and dramatic without any acting feeling forced or wooden. Its characters’ arcs feel natural, because they are natural. Placing such a heavy emphasis on dialogue, with the gimmick of the server being a vehicle for interactions to happen rather than the sole appeal of the series, makes it truly feel as though we’re getting a glimpse into the characters’ lives, rather than watching a story which has been written beforehand. We get to watch everything unfold in real time. 3rd Life has a magic to it that, to my knowledge, no other SMP has been able to recreate.

#3rd life smp #last life smp #trafficblr #mae analyses #THIS IS REALLY META BUT I JUST <3 I HAVE SO MUCH LOVE FOR HOW WELL 3RD LIFE DOES WHAT IT DOES #THERE'S A *REASON* IT'S SO COMPELLING #it has this different feel to it #one that i've never encountered before because there is NOTHING like 3rd life out there #ohh i love 3rd life a normal and reasonable amount

2K notes · View notes

spaceman-earthgirl · 4 years ago

Text

Supercorptober 2021 Day 13: Quiet

This one is set post 6x08. We're ignoring the fact that Lena was going to go to Newfoundland, she can go later.

Fic link. Series link.

It’s when Lena gets back to her own apartment, that she notices it. The quiet, the lack of noise and motion she’s come accustomed to recently at the tower.

Brainy would always be there, typing away on his computer, there’d be J’onn’s calming voice, Alex hitting the punching bag as hard and fast as she could when the frustration and desperation got too much and Nia’s constant talking, Lena knowing she was just trying to fill the silence Kara had left behind.

She hasn’t been back here much, to her apartment, since Kara had been sent to the Phantom Zone. She’d spent late nights at the tower, early mornings, always looking for some way to bring her home. She’d either just sleep at the tower or be so tired when she finally made it to her own bed, exhaustion would claim her without a thought.

She’s tired now, can feel it deep in her bones, but she knows she’s not going to be able to sleep, not tonight, not after everything that’s happened today, not after she finally got to see Kara again, not after they finally got her home.

So, instead, she grabs a glass, pours herself a drink, knowing alcohol might be the only way she’ll be able to sleep tonight.

A sound on her balcony startles her. It’s late, she’d stayed at the tower as long as she could before she left, but assassins don’t usually work normal working hours. Her fingers are already on her watch, ready to call Kara, when she sees a flash of familiar blonde hair.

Kara gives her a wave, nervous through her balcony door, missing the normal blue and red colours and instead wearing a cream-coloured cardigan, hair pulled back in a ponytail.

Scotch abandoned, Lena makes her way to the door. It’s locked, she’d started locking it after Kara left, with Supergirl gone, it would’ve been bad news if anyone else managed to make it onto her balcony. She unlocks the door, slides it open, unsure what Kara is doing here.

“Hi?” It’s a question and a statement all at once.

Kara’s fingers twist in front of her as she steps inside, says nothing as Lena closes, and then locks, the door behind her. She looks so small, her shoulders slouched, looking as least like the hero as Lena has ever seen her.

The silence is a little unnerving.

“Is everything okay?” Lena tries again.

Lena watches the way Kara’s throat works as she swallows.

“I was alone. Alex left, because I told her I was fine but I’m not fine.” Kara swallows again, a quiver of her bottom lip. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Tears form in Kara’s eyes and Lena is powerless to do anything but reach forward, pulling Kara into her arms.

“You’re not alone,” Lena says as Kara tucks her face into Lena’s shoulder. Lena can feel the shake of her body as Kara leans into the touch. She soothes a hand up and down Kara’s back. “I’ve got you.”

Lena doesn’t realise Kara is actually crying until she feels tears soak through her shirt but that doesn’t matter, all that matters is Kara. She can’t even imagine what the other woman has been through, but if Kara needs her right now, she’ll do whatever she can to help.

She holds her until she stops shaking, holds her until her tears stop falling, holds her until Kara’s arms are slipping from around her and Kara’s rubbing a self-conscious hand across her face.

“Sorry,” Kara says, eyes down as she wipes tears from her cheeks.

“Hey,” Lena says, catching Kara’s hands. She lowers and then drops them, before lifting her own hands up to wipe Kara’s face. “You never have to be sorry, especially not for something like this.”

Kara clears her throat. “I wasn’t sure if I could ask for this anymore,” she says, not looking Lena in the eyes as she does.

“Ask for what?”

“Our friendship.” Blue eyes find hers again. Kara looks so scared. “I’m not exactly sure where we stand, after everything.”

Lena reaches out, taking Kara’s hand. She’s pretty sure Kara needs the contact just as much as she does. “I know we’ve been through a lot, we’ve both lied, we’ve both hurt each other, but that’s all in the past now. We’re friends, okay? And if you need a hug in the middle of the night, then I’m your girl.”

Kara laughs, and it’s only a huff of air, but she’s smiling so it counts.

“El Mayarah, right?” Lena says. “You and me, stronger together.”

Kara glances down. “I don’t feel very strong right now.”

Lena squeezes her hand. “Then I’ll be strong enough for the both of us for now.”

Kara glances back up at her, tears welling in her eyes again. “Thank you.”

“Always,” Lena promises.

They stand like that for a long moment, close, Lena lingering in Kara’s space.

“I should…” Kara eventually says, nodding her head towards the balcony.

“Stay,” Lena finds herself saying instead. She can see the reluctance on Kara’s face, hear it in her words, she doesn’t want to go just as much as Lena doesn’t want her to leave.

“I can’t ask that.”

Lena shakes her head. “You’re not asking, I’m offering. Please,” she adds. “I don’t want you to go.”

Kara hesitates before she nods, which is how, not long later, Kara ends up dressed in a pair of Lena’s pyjamas, tucked into the right side of her bed.

As soon as Lena switches off the light and slides into the other side, Kara shuffles across the space until she’s close, but not quite touching.

“I’m scared this is all a dream,” Kara admits into the darkness. Lena can hear the fear in her voice.

“It’s not, I promise,” Lena says, reaching across the small space, her hand knocking Kara’s arm before she finds her hand, tangles their fingers together again.

“Will you still be here when I wake up?”

Lena nods, knowing Kara can see it even in the dark. “I won’t let go of your hand, okay? That way you’ll know I’m here.” Lena’s not sure that really works when you’re asleep but it’s the best she’s got. After what she’s heard, she knows Kara’s going to take some time to believe she’s actually home.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Lena repeats.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #supercorptober2021

320 notes · View notes

peaches-and-creams · 4 years ago

Text

The Blog of Dr. John H. Watson: A tale of tea

Pairing: BBC Sherlock x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Tags: fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1388words

Notes: This is written from John's perspective because why not,,, the indented parts are the actual events in the fic, the rest are part of John's retelling. It's a bit lacking since I did it on a whim but I really liked the idea that John would post things like this on his blog, Tell me if you want me to make another John's blog entry. Enjoy :]]]

"I am sure many of you, my regular readers, know of the tale of how Sherlock and I had met. I have shared my recollection of our adventures together, all the bizarre situations we’ve found ourselves in because of cases that interest him. I can safely say that I have gained a little understanding of just how that brilliant mind of his somehow works through the years.

However recently, I’ve been introduced to a friend of his. I know. Surprising, because ––as per his brother ––how many friends do you think he has? A lot, apparently. He forms friendships in the most unusual times, and this friend is no different.

I was told that they met as kids. Contrary to beliefs, Sherlock was very charming as a child. According to Y/N, Sherlock’s friend, he was a people person up until 1st grade –I’m guessing that was when he started doing his deduction thing. They said that it wasn’t until years later that they progressed as friends, when Sherlock helped them prove that they, as a matter of fact, did not cheat on an important exam. In the end, Mycroft had to step in to placate the matter as Sherlock’s guardian (lie) and clear Y/N of the accusation.

But I won’t go into detail on that because this is a tale of how I met Y/N L/N.

It was after Sherlock came back from the dead, months before my wedding. It was somewhat peaceful that day, we were getting fitted for our suits and gowns back in Baker Street when suddenly an unusual fellow walked in. I say unusual because they were dressed in medieval clothes, probably from the 1700s, and carrying a walking stick despite the lack of necessity. “Sorry, mate. We’re on a day off today.” I said, although they ignored me and walked towards Sherlock. I was on alert. Living with someone like Sherlock, you learn that occasionally, he pisses off someone who personally tries to settle things with him. The stranger backhanded Sherlock across the cheek, but he e only raised a hand to tell me to stand down. By now, they’ve noticed that they weren’t alone in the sitting room. They dragged him to Sherlock’s room and harshly closed the door.

“Oh, the neighbors!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, breaking the silence. “Should we be concerned?” Mary asked pointing at the silent room. “Oh, don’t worry. That’s just Y/N, they’ll be out in a minute.” Mrs. Hudson dismisses. “Who’s Y/N?” John asked. Mrs. Hudson laughs. “Don’t be jealous, John.” “Mrs. Hudson, I’m getting married, to a woman, she’s standing in front of you. I am not gay!” John firmly stated. Mary joined her in the teasing. “Y/N is Sherlock’s friend from school. They had an on and off communication for the last 10 years or so because Y/N was in Madrid, teaching. Poor fella, they weren’t here in time for Sherlock’s burial, they grieved alone all this time.” “No! You have been so unfair, Sherlock! I had to find out that you’re alive from Twitter. Then your first mail to me is demanding me to go back to London to play as your date to some stupid wedding!” Y/N’s shouts were heard. “…It’s not stupid.” They could hear Sherlock faintly respond. “Shut it, you don’t get to speak just yet. I mourned you, you asshole. Did you ever stop to think how I felt when I heard that you have died? Which by the way, I found out from Twitter, AGAIN! You could’ve told me it was all fake so I didn’t have to grieve for so long. I’m your best friend for god’s sake, Sherlock!” Y/N sounded mad, disappointed even. But they were also holding back tears, the tears that they had refused to shed out of denial when they received the news of Sherlock’s death. “I know…I’m sorry.” “No, you don’t. You don’t know how hard it was to hear everyone saying you’re a fraud. You don’t know how hard it was to hear you had died. You don’t know how it has been for me you…” Their words died at the end, no longer able to hold their grief, choking out an exhausted cry. It took a lot of apologies and explaining, that the people outside no longer heard, before the two of them calmed down. It was quiet for a few minutes before they both exited the room, both red-eyed from crying. Y/N had slipped on a shirt and a pair of trousers they borrowed from Sherlock, having relieved off their elegantly heavy wardrobe, they say quietly in Sherlock’s chair. “Tea?” Sherlock asks. “Two sugars, please.” They said, holding up two fingers. “Of course.” The sitting room remained quiet, only the sound of the water boiling was heard. John, Mary, and Mrs. Hudson had all kept quiet at their end of the room while the seamstress took their measurements, only stealing glances at the two. Sherlock handed Y/N their cup and sat down in John’s chair.

We heard strings of unpleasant words from Sherlock’s room. For a moment, I almost dashed in to possibly save Y/N or Sherlock. Now, I said before that I lashed out at him a bit. But Y/N, I think they were just as close as dragging him back to his grave. Eventually, things became quiet, which worried us for a bit. It didn’t take long for them to come back out. I think they were both crying because their eyes were a bit red and they were sniffling, I don't think it’s bad allergies. I’ve only ever seen him cry a few times, one was when before he jumped (although his face looked like of an ant to me, I know he cried), another was when he pretended not to know how to defuse a bomb to dupe me. But really that wasn’t the most bizarre thing that happened that day. After their little argument, they settled in the sitting room. Y/N had sat in Sherlock’s chair (he never let me on there) and Sherlock made them tea (he won’t even make one for himself).

After a few minutes of silence, I suppose he couldn’t take it anymore, Sherlock proceeded to deduce everything that had happened to his dear friend.

“You arrived yesterday, and since have stayed in Mycroft’s place. You’ve had a limp a few months ago, obviously, you’ve healed. You started at your new work today, you wanted to make an impression on your students. Huh…you’ve broken off your engagement, didn’t like you working?” I remember, these were his exact words because Y/N responded with “Always a delight to meet you, Sherlock.” Which surprisingly sounded genuine. He later introduced them to the rest of us, and since then Y/N had taken my old room after I had wed.

They had managed to manage Sherlock. Seriously, it’s amazing! Yesterday I dropped by because as usual, Sherlock needed someone to do all the “boring” stuff for him, and the flat was almost a whole other place. I had to double-take to make sure I was indeed in 221b. The table where Sherlock did most of his chemical experimenting? Clean. I can smell the chlorine but it was clean! And the fridge, OH, THE FRIDGE! It had actual foods in it and ONLY FOODS. Apparently, Y/N had successfully convinced Sherlock to buy a new fridge for all his bloody equipment. About time someone talked some sense into that intelligent brain of his. Anyway, I’m about to clock in. hopefully you all will be satisfied and stop emailing us about who’s that 3rd fella who accompanies us sometimes in cases, Sherlock complains when these emails pile above his cases." Comments

Oh, don’t be jealous, John. I’m sure Sherlock hasn’t forgotten you! Mrs Hudson Again! I am not gay. John Watson Sure dear. Mrs Hudson John, you’re over-dramatizing everything. A tale for tea? really? Sherlock Holmes I really appreciate you dusting the flat, Y/N. Sherlock never let me touch his things. Mrs Hudson No problem Mrs. H Y/N L/N Y/N is restricting Sherlock’s thinking process theimprobableone Y/N, do not touch the microwave. I have an ongoing experiment in there. Sherlock Holmes Well, you better clean it after. And keep it in your damn fridge, Sherlock. Y/N L/N Great to hear someone has finally managed the great Sherlock Holmes. Mike Stamford

♣︎♣︎♣︎♣︎

234 notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Mine Again - Harry Styles

a/n: this is something i just thought about after my nap today lol, so enjoy this treat, a classic exlovers to lovers fic!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

word count: 3.4k

masterlist

Seeing an ex is never easy. Whether it’s by your choice or not. Working together with an ex is even harder and now you brought a situation on yourself where this is your reality.

Arriving to the studio of The Late Late show you immediately get escorted to your designated dressing room where a hair and makeup artist are already waiting for you. Today you are here to promote your new movie, Don’t Worry Darling with your onscreen lover, Harry Styles, however, what no one else in the building knows is that once the two of you were real life lovers.

Your romance blossomed during filming, having spent so much time together on set, it didn’t take long for a relationship to form between you and him, the chemistry you shared was immense and undeniable, anyone could see that and you felt like you were burning in a bonfire of the most intense feelings you’ve felt for any man. It was passionate and intoxicating, it felt like something that could only happen in movies, but it was your reality.

However filming ended and you were forced to go your separate ways, you both tried hard to keep what you had and though your feelings never changed, distance brought the worst out of the both of you. Six months after you became an item, you mutually agreed to break it off.

You haven’t seen him since then, meaning that it’s been five torturous months without having any contact with him and now that promo has officially kicked in, you are forced to travel around and make appearances with the man you love, yes, still love more than anyone on this Earth. Not even five months and absolutely no contact could change your feelings for him, however he might already be over you at this point, having forgotten about feelings and memories you still hold close to your heart.

How has he been doing? What is he like now? Has he been thinking about you? Does he miss you? What is it going to be like to see him for the first time?

The questions flood your mind as you sit in the chair and let the professionals work their magic on you, covering up the dark circles under your eyes that formed due to the sleepless night you had the day before, nonstop thinking about Harry and what it’ll be like to see him for the first time again.

After careful elimination, you choose a dress for the appearance, it’s tight and short, the fabric is covered in glittering sequins down your body and the long sleeves as well and while the dress covers a lot up from the waist, it makes up in the lack of length on your legs as the end of it barely reaches the upper part of your thighs, ending it black feathers that tickle your freshly shaven legs. The nude heels add even more to them, making you appear like you could hit the runway any moment when in reality you are not high enough to be a model.

There’s still some time until the taping starts, James drops by to say hello and tell you how excited he is to have you and Harry on tonight and you chit-chat for a little before you go to take a quick business call outside. When you’re done with that, you head back to your dressing room to take a few quick photos to post later, but right as you near your destination, a door swings open down the hallway and Harry steps out, wearing a black suit, of course, head to toe Gucci. The crispy grey shirt’s first few buttons are left undone, allowing you a glimpse of his toned chest and his necklace with the tiny cross pendant on it.

He looks good. No, he looks absolutely stunning, just like he always does and just the sight of him takes your breath away, forcing you to stop in your tracks when you lay your eyes at him. He spots you as well, stopping to take a look at you before you see a small smile on his perfect pink lips.

“Y/N, hi! You look… gorgeous,” he speaks up lowly, his eyes raking your body up and down.

“I, uhh—Thanks!” you breathe out, feeling already flustered. How are you gonna survive the interview, sitting next to him, talking about what it was like to play a married couple?!

His hand moves a bit and there’s a moment of awkwardness, neither of you really knowing what to do, last time you saw each other you kissed as your hellos, but now it’s not an option, obviously. At last, he moves forward and goes for a hug.

He envelopes you in his arms as you wrap yours around his neck, the warmth of his body bringing you a sense of home and it hits you hard how much you’ve missed him in these five months.

You swear he holds you just a second longer than what would be appropriate before his arms fall from around your frame and you force yourself to let go of him, though every fiber in you is protesting against it.

“How—How have you been?” he asks, his beautiful green eyes finding yours.

“I’m good. I’m good,” you nod. “What about you?”

“Same. Just the… usual stuff.”

“Writing music?” you ask with a soft smile. You still vividly remember those nights you spent together after a long day of filming, crashing at either his or your place and you often found him strumming his guitar in a corner, scribbling words down into his notebook. Sometimes he sang you the songs he came up with, sometimes he kept them to himself.

“Yeah, I’ve been writing a lot lately,” he admits with a shy smile.

Someone calls his name down the hallway and his head snaps up before looking back at you.

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, stepping aside so he can walk past.

“And you really look amazing, Y/N,” he calls after you one last time before jogging down the hallway.

You walk into your dressing room and shutting the door you lean your back against it, huffing heavily as you try to recollect yourself. Somehow, this encounter went really well, because the two of you were civil and respectful, but it was also a painful shock to see him in the flesh again. It was one thing to see pictures of him here and there, but actually meeting him, hugging him, talking to him… you need time to process it all.

Unfortunately, you don’t have much of that. Twenty minutes later you are walked to your spot behind the curtains from where you’ll walk out when James calls your name. Just as you arrive Harry appears as well, casually talking with one of the camera guys, having a laugh and just as he sees you, his eyes fall down your body again and you swear you see him gulp hard before turning his attention back to the man.

“Ready?” he asks upon walking up to you, a hand coming to rest on your lower back. Glancing over your shoulder you look down at his hand, lips parted at the feeling of his welcoming touch. He sees your glance and pulls his hand back quickly. “Sorry, it’s a habit, I guess,” he mumbles, blushing softly.

“It’s fine,” you smile. Of course it’s fine, for what you care, he could throw you over his shoulder like a cave man and run out of the building, you wouldn’t say a word. You want his touch on your body, you’ve been craving it since the moment you last saw him, but are you even allowed to admit it? You have no idea what he is thinking or feeling, you can’t just come right at him like that.

Harry fixes the lapels of his suit jacket, but what he doesn’t see is that the collar of his shirt is kind of stuck under the jacket.

“Your shirt is… let me fix it,” you breathe out and he turns to face you, letting your delicate hands fix his outfit, perfecting the look to the tiniest bit. “There, you look great,” you smile, your hands sliding down his chest before they fall to your sides again.

“Thank you,” he nods smiling back at you before offering an arm that you take gladly. He knows how much you hate high heels and that you are always scared of tripping and falling and being the gentleman that he is, he’ll be the support you need.

The taping soon starts and the two of you stand patiently behind the curtain as James introduces you.

“And now, please welcome the stars of the upcoming hit movie, Don’t Worry Darling! Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N and Harry Styles!”

The crowd starts clapping and cheering as the curtain moves and the two of you walk in, arms linked and Harry makes sure to slow down when you walk down the few little stairs. James welcomes the both of you with two kisses before everyone takes their place, James behind his desk, you and Harry sitting on the couch.

“Thank you so much for dropping by tonight, guys!” James smiles at the two of you.

“Thank you for having us,” Harry nods with a soft smile.

“You both have been guests on the show separately, but tonight you are here as a pair, since your latest movie, Don’t Worry Darling is hitting the theaters this weekend. How are you feeling about that, excited to see the film finally?”

“Very excited,” you nod with a smile. “I can’t wait to see the final version, because obviously we only know the version we envisioned while filming, but the actual movie is going to be something else.”

“Y/N, your role in the movie was originally handed to Florence Pugh who had to step back because she broke her arm,” James points out and you nod.

“Yes, I stepped in her place just about a week before production started and if I’m being honest I was scared that people would prefer to see her in the role, but I had a talk with her actually and she said she helped Olivia, the director to pick out the person to take her place and she said she instantly knew I would be perfect for it, so I trust her.”

“That’s amazing to hear, that the two of you didn’t have any rivalry going on,” James enthuses.

“She actually visited set a few times,” Harry chimes in and you nod.

“Yeah, we had a great time together.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun, the three of you together,” James chuckles. “So, the two of you play a married couple in the film and if I’m not mistaken you didn’t know each other beforehand. Was it hard to get into the roles with not much background on each other?”

“We met up a few times before filming started to get to know each other more and I think we hit it off right away, so it wasn’t hard for me,” Harry speaks up and you nod along.

“It was obviously a little different situation than when you meet someone and become friends, because as we got to know each other more, we had to go through scenes that were meant for a couple that was already years into their relationship, but I think it strengthened our friendship,” you answer, hands laid flat on your bare thighs.

No lie has been told, everything you said was the truth. You just left out the part where you become real life lovers and started dating a month into production.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting for a while now, have quite a few roles under your belt, what did you think of Harry’s acting?”

“I think that he is a wonderful actor and I hope people will give him his much deserved credit for it. He is often still seen as just a silly singer from a former boy band and they don’t take him seriously when he really is a very talented man. You’ll see in the movie as well, his role was a tough one, needed a lot of work and a wide range of emotions, but I think he did an amazing job.”

You dare to glance at him at the end of your little speech and for a moment you forget about the audience, James and the cameras. He is looking at you with so much gratitude and thankfulness. You remember every talk you had where he opened up to you about wanting to be taken seriously in the acting business, that he is not trying to be just a joke and another failed attempt of a singer to try himself out in movies. He told you how scared he is of not being good enough when you saw him every day on set and you were blown by his eternal talent and special take on his role. He deserves to be praised, he deserves every bit of it.

“It was easy, I had a great partner to learn from,” he smiles softly and you feel the heat crawling up your neck.

“You two really have the chemistry we’ve heard so much about, I can’t wait to see it on the big screen!” James sighs. “Tell me a little about what it was like to film? You guys spent a lot of time together, must have made a lot of memories.”

You take a deep breath as all those memories mentioned flood your mind. You had the best time of your life not just with Harry, but with the whole crew. Leaving after production was wrapped really broke your heart.

“It didn’t even feel like working,” Harry starts. “We always joked around, had lunch or dinner together, we were like a big family. It was so nice to have so many amazing, talented and hard-working people around you all day.”

“The jokes never stopped,” you add chuckling.

“I wish I could have been on set!” James laughs wholeheartedly. “That didn’t happen, but we have a little something. The crew has put together a short BTS video of the filming, so let’s have a look at that,” he announces and the video starts playing on every screen in the studio.

It’s a short little montage, but it captures the vibes of filming just perfectly. Clips shown from set are not just of you and Harry, but all the other cast and crew members. Goofing around, having lots and lots of laughs, dancing on set, which happened quite often and just all of you having a great time. Some of the slips however pain your chest, the ones of you and Harry.

This was very early into your relationship, no one on set even knew you were together, but seeing yourself on the screen you can’t deny the sparkles in your eyes every time you were around him.

A clip shows the two of you between two takes, doing a goofy dance in the kitchen of the home that was used as the set of the house of your characters, you are both wearing your costumes, Harry looks great in his suit and your long retro dress is flowing around you with every movement you make. He grabs you by your waist and spins you before you end up in his arms laughing crazily, you were so happy, so carefree. You wish you could go back to that moment…

Another footage was taken in your trailer when Harry took the place of Clare, your makeup artist and tried to do your eyeliner but miserably failed. In the video, he is gently clasping your chin, angling your face for himself as his other hand is working on the line, but it’s wobbly and way too thick, so you both end up just laughing when you check yourself in the mirror.

And there are some small moments of the two of you, moving around on set, lying in bed between takes, sitting in your chairs while eating, just tiny memories you still cherish so much and wish to live through again, but it’s the past. And it wouldn’t hurt this much if you knew Harry from the video was still yours.

When the video ends you need to blink a few times as your eyes have watered a little. You catch Harry’s gaze and he looks worried, he clearly wants to ask if you’re okay, make sure it was just the sentimentality of the moment, but he doesn’t have the chance, the cameras are still rolling.

“That looked like so much fun! Next time make sure to invite me on set too!” James jokes and you force a laugh out of yourself.

A few questions are asked about future plans and just generally about your careers before the taping finally ends. You thank James for the invite again and a photo is taken of the three of you, you standing in the middle with the two men on your sides. When everything is settled, you head to your dressing room, using the chance to slip away silently while Harry is still chit-chatting on the set.

In the comfort and silence of the dressing room, you lean onto the vanity, staring at yourself in the mirror, finding it ironic that on the outside, you look perfectly fine, healthy and pretty, but on the inside… you could scream. You miss Harry so much, you hoped that your feelings for him have toned down a little over these five months, but it was just the same if not even worse.

A faint knock is heard on the door and you quickly fix yourself before calling out to the person outside. The door opens and for your surprise, Harry steps inside, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, you disappeared so fast,” he softly says.

“Yeah, I’m just… a little tired,” you lie, though you know exactly he can see right through you.

“Y/N, I saw that look in your eyes after the video…”

“What look?” you ask with a huff. “What do you want me to say, Harry?”

“The truth,” he answers. “I’m not James, don’t bullshit me.”

“You want the truth? I’ll give it to you, but don’t blame me if it’s uncomfortable for you,” you chuckle bitterly, throwing your hands into the air. “I’ve been miserable, Harry. I miss you so fucking much, seeing you today was like Hell. I really thought it would be easier, but now I’m stuck with going from one interview to the other with red carpet events all around the world, seeing you every day when I terribly miss you and it fucking sucks, because you might not even feel the sa—“

You don’t get to finish, because Harry crosses the distance between the two of you, his hands grab your face and pulls you into a hard and passionate kiss. His lips move perfectly against yours and it feels like he is trying to squeeze every missed moment from the past five months into the kiss, making you melt into his arms completely.

He is everywhere. He is all you can taste, you breathe him in, his hands are everywhere on your body and your chest is pressed tight against his as you wrap your arms around his neck, locking him into your embrace. Your tongues dance, teeth tugging and pulling on lips, it’s a whole mess, but it’s the most perfect mess you’ve ever been. He takes your breath away completely and you don’t even want it back if it means you can’t have him.

Harry pulls away first, both your chests heaving wildly from the heavy make-out session and he looks down at you with hooded eyes.

“If you think I haven’t missed you like crazy… you can’t be more wrong, baby. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to call you a thousand times and beg for you to come back to me, but I thought you already moved on.”

“Moving on?!” you huff with a tired smile. “Harry, I could never…”

“Alright, then I’m not letting you go again. No way you are walking out of this building without being mine again.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words as you pull him down for another kiss, needing to feel his lips on yours.

“I never stopped being yours,” you whisper against his lips and he moans weakly before crashing his lips against yours again.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x famous!reader #harry styles exlovers to lovers #harry styles blurb

2K notes · View notes

ohraicodoll · 2 years ago

Note

Thank you so much for Red. It’s crazy how much I relate to her. We don’t live in a post apocalyptic world but we all live in our own worlds and sometimes it can feel like us vs them which Red helps me to navigate. She has helped me to feel less ashamed about the way my brain has turned out.

She’s so cathartic and has shown me that even when someone is as rough and ready, or completely rejecting of anything good that comes their way because they ‘don’t deserve it’ or that they will wreck it that some people could them her regardless. If that makes sense.

I especially love the new Tommy x Red friend post that just made me feel so fucking validated again! The way that Red has unusual ways of showing her love/gratitude and the people in her life just try to understand it until they do with no questioning!? To be loved in a way that is so accommodating and significant blows my mind. I know you’re writing fiction but sometimes discovering that this very specific thing is addressed and taken care of by another human being in the world is insane and has given me a bit of hope for my future.

It’s so soothing and Cathartic to read your work . I spent some of my childhood in survival mode and it never truly leaves you. You’ve written it so realistically I am in amazement with every piece of the puzzle you post.

I wish I had an ounce of your talent so that I could explain my love and gratitude for you in a way that was comprehensible. I’m sorry, I just had to say something now though, I’ve been having a weird couple of days and your writing is one of my only forms of escapism.

I am so interested in what inspired you to create such a specifically complex female character like her. I consume a lot of media, have read and literally studied the new era of woman (still hard to give them a specific name) and no character has ever come close to Red. Your talent blows my mind.

Thank you Sam.

Oh goodness, did you make me cry ❤❤

I'm so glad you feel seen and feel a bit of representation and catharsis with her. That's just all I can hope is that you all love the characters I create and the stories as much as I do. You've all kept me motivated and inspired to write her (especially as fast as I have haha).

The idea about Red came because I kinda got tired of only finding pure smut or timid characters in the TLOU fic tag. I love both but Tess was not timid and was more the dominant in the relationship. And I fully get that Joel radiates "I'll take care of you" dom energy but at this point in the apocalypse I doubt there would be many people left that didn't have some aggression in them or that need taking care of. I love character analysis too much to do the same type of character.

I've always been drawn to rage characters. I wrote a whole book series when I was a teen centered around one. And I think I wanted to go back to that since my character in my Sandman series is the opposite. Dahlia is an exploration of trauma responses, especially around acts of anger because that's what I experience. But I started writing with action and violence and someone who is angry all the time and motivated by rage and I wanted to go back to it because writing a character that lacks the moral responses to killing is fascinating. So often we get characters that regret or are remorseful around killing and I don't think that's Joel.

So it was a combo of just writing someone who doesn't regret her violence, doesn't regret killing, and has been alone in the wild for a long time focused only on surviving that they never thought they'd get more. Someone who is accepted for their violence and rage. And that's Red. She is a bunch of fractured pieces held together with string with no coping skills and Joel and Ellie love her either way.

There's the her before the Outbreak, the her that was broken by her sister (who she sees in Ellie), there's the her that was with her group, the her after being alone for years and years, and then the her with Joel and Ellie. Joel never shies away from her and may actually be drawn to her more because of it since there's a piece of that in him. This story is about being seen and accepting your ugliness.

I think being able to jump all over her timeline and continuously build her has been so wonderful and fun. Requests and prompts have been great in building her (though I do change some to make sure they fit the world and who she is). I fully acknowledge she's not a reader but an OC but I cannot write a character who is a blank slate because your past and history dictate your personality and actions (and tbh, most Readers are actually OC's without names or descriptions. I'm old, the x Reader/You thing is new but also just a relabeling of OC's)

I don't know how other writers write, but these characters fully inhabit me when I focus on them. It's why it's hard to switch between stories and characters at time because I can only see through their eyes. I feel their natural body movements, their conversations flow in my head and usually I have to race to write them down somewhere for later. Red is very much a part of me and it's been a joy to explore her and bring her to you all.

So much love and thankfulness to you all ❤❤

#joel miller x feral reader #series: feral #Feral Reader #Raicodoll writes #literally cried getting this #I sometimes felt like my writing wasn't any good especially when I see so many other writers get such big reactions #writing was put on the back burner so long #but Sandman and TLOU somehow brought it back and it's been just so releasing to write again #and find my communities #so believe me when I say I deeply cannot thank you all enough #All your love and enthusiasm has carried me through some dark shit #I'm so stressed with life and I think this series has helped me deal with the grief of losing my grandma in December #You've all helped lift me up

14 notes · View notes

9tzuyu · 4 years ago

Text

four months.

note: hiiiii! just trying to get into the groove again. i dont know what this is. the original prompt is below, however it did not turn out that way?¿ its kind of a mess, but fluffy i suppose. i hope you enjoy :>.

using my own experience so don’t think i hate poor people because i am those people </3

(also chapter 4 of children of tragedy will be out soon, i promise. ive just had awful writers block.)

+ thank you moli for proofreading so i dont have to. i love you.

warnings: none?

prompt: * reader used to be poor and stuff and w/n is like “you know you don’t have to get the cheapest things” and R covers it up and says “oh this is the brand i like, but w/n discovers hidden receipts and asks why they have a bunch of useless receipt and R is like “i was just tracking how much we spend....”

🏷 @natasha-danvers @midnight-lestrange @whatiziz @kermy48 @mycosmicparadise @peggycarter-steverogers @blackxwidowsxwife (lmk if you want off the tag list because ik i dont post as regularly as other writers, so im just going with people who have told me they want to be on my tag list in the past)

and lastly, for my baby @nermalina. its not really your genre per se [ i have a smut fic that i’ll dt you on ;)] however, accept this as a form of love.

it wasn’t so much that you were homeless and out on the streets, but you weren’t necessarily well off either. working as a waitress only got you far enough to pay your monthly rent and gas. somehow you managed to squeeze in a list of groceries.

every penny counted, you didn’t have room for mishaps or sick days. thats why you kept your budget small and a stash full of receipts on the kitchen bar.

natasha didn’t know about any of this though. you were sure she’d have you by the neck if she found out how long you’d been keeping your secret.

the redhead was generous, and no matter how many times you offered to pay for something she would never even dream of letting you. natasha insisted on it, and you were powerless to stop her.

it wasn’t until you tagged along with her on a trip to the grocery store when things began to unravel. she only needed a few things, nothing important.

but nat was quick to pick up on the fact that you continuously flipped every little thing you picked up to look at the price tag.

“here, it’s the cheapest one i could find.” you said, smiling as you handed her a cardboard box of pasta. natasha hummed, “you know you don’t have to get me the cheapest thing on the shelf.”

you bit your lip, eyes suddenly looking back at the shelf of different pasta boxes. “i know... it’s just- it’s my favorite brand.” natasha automatically knew you were lying by the way you began chewing on the inside of your lip.

she narrowed her eyes. “no it’s not.”

“huh?”

“you got this brand because it was the cheapest. you know i can afford more, which leads me to believe you do this out of habit.”

you shuffled uncomfortably under her gaze. “no, i just really like that brand.”

the sudden realization that she had never been to your place struck her.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“why don’t we go back to your apartment after this? we can just relax, watch a movie, do whatever you want.”

a mix of guilt and shame flooded your body. but damned if you didn’t still give it a try.

“my apartment’s a mess right now, you don’t want to see that.” you tried, offering a small, dry laugh in hopes of getting her off your back.

“you’re a terrible liar.”

“i’m not-”

“i picked you up from the park today, just like every other day. i’ve not once picked you up from your own apartment, so what are you hiding?”

when you didn’t give an answer, she tossed the cheapest box of pasta in her cart and walked away. you groaned as you watched natasha leave before catching up to her.

“okay, okay, we can go back to my apartment. just don’t judge me, alright?”

she smiled softly, “it wouldn’t even cross my mind.”

soon enough you began helping your girlfriend load her car with bags full of miscellaneous items. nothing needed to be refrigerated, so if natasha wanted to, she could stay at your apartment all day.

your leg bounced in the car as you gave her directions. but soon enough, after what felt like the longest fifteen minutes of your life, natasha pulled into a parking space right outside your door.

you silently cursed yourself for not renting a spot upstairs. at least then it would’ve prolonged the situation just a little bit longer.

natasha watched as you fumbled with your keys, your hands visibly shaking.

“fuck.” you mumbled after hearing the clank of metal hit the ground. you bent down to pick them up but natasha beat you to it.

“which key?” her voice was soft.

“the yellow one.”

the door swung open and you motioned for natasha to go before you.

it wasn’t bad, really. apart from the chipped brown walls, the lingering smell of cigarette smoke (you hated your neighbors for that), the broken windows, lack of space and furniture that was as good as the floor.

natasha noticed the windows first, a sense of protectiveness overpowering her. she didn’t like that you weren’t safe.

you went to offer her a water bottle, but she wasn’t paying attention. instead, she noticed the lack of food in your fridge, frowning when you tried to cover it up.

another few minutes of her silence went by and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“look, i know you’re rich. i know you like to have luxury brands and that you don’t have to worry about whether or not someone will break in and steal what little you have left. but that doesn’t give you any right to judge me. i’m sorry i don’t live up to your expectations.”

natasha licked her lips and leaned her back against the kitchen counter.

“how long have you lived like this?”

her question caught you off guard, but you managed to find an answer.

“i’ve always lived like this, nat.”

she nodded solemnly before abruptly turning around to look at what was inside your cabinets.

“what are you do-”

“you have no food.”

you sighed, “well yeah, i can’t really afford it.”

“and the receipts?”

natasha was met with a shrug. “have to keep track of everything somehow.”

she stared at you a minute longer before finding the exact words she wanted to say.

“i would never judge you, or anyone for that matter, on their living situation. i know people don’t always have a say in what or why things happen.” she paused. “but i don’t like knowing you go to sleep every night with broken windows practically inviting anyone to come in and intrude. i don’t like knowing all you have to eat is bread, canned fruit and grilled cheese sandwiches.”

you listened to her ramble on, still nervous about the fact that this was new to her.

“so come live with me.”

“natasha-”

“come live with me.”

you immediately shook your head. “no, no, no. nat don’t even-”

“i’m serious. you won't win this argument, y/n. let me take care of you. i don't mind picking you up and dragging you out of here myself if that’s what it takes.”

a sigh left your lips as you folded your arms across your chest. “natasha, i can’t have you do that. i’m okay, i promise.”

the redhead raised her eyebrow. “how many times have you gone to bed hungry? or let your car run on fumes for as long as you could? and how many times have you gone to work sick because you can’t afford to miss one single day?”

when natasha was met with no reply she moved closer to you, wrapping her arms around your waist, pulling you into her embrace.

“i know it’s only been four months but i don’t think i could ever forgive myself if something happened to you and i didn’t do enough to stop it.”

she kissed the side of your head, “let me take care of you.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #avengers x reader #avengers imagine

449 notes · View notes

beautifulbows924 · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 916 times in 2022

That's 903 more posts than 2021!

170 posts created (19%)

746 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@raelwrites

@beautifulbows924

@darkened-writer

@dearlawdimasimp

@crazycookiecrumbles

I tagged 599 of my posts in 2022

Only 35% of my posts had no tags

#moonknight - 214 posts

#rose’s personal - 168 posts

#asks - 117 posts

#marc spector - 76 posts

#marc spector x reader - 74 posts

#steven grant x reader - 74 posts

#rose's personal - 71 posts

#steven grant - 70 posts

#roses2kwc - 66 posts

#<3 - 56 posts

Longest Tag: 122 characters

#while i was looking through the p’s i saw some of the o’s and it’s going to be hard to pick which of those i like the best

My Top Posts in 2022:

Double the Trouble

Steven Grant & Marc Spector x Gender Neutral!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: This fic is based off of idea number 4. I needed to write something to pass the time and I really like how it came out. I’ve already written the prologue to idea number 5 and that may be coming out later today. But don’t worry this is only the first part to this story, I definitely plan on writing more. As always, I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments and if you like my work consider leaving a tip! Thanks:)

Word Count: 1.5K+

Warnings: A little angst in the beginning, NO Spoilers, Awkward Steven, Self deprecation, Fluff, Marc and Reader have a previously established friendship.

Summary: You’ve been friends with Marc your whole life, always secretly wishing you could be something more. So when he goes missing for months and suddenly turns up at your door asking you to help make sure one of his alters, ‘Steven’, doesn’t find out about the mess his life has become- of course you say yes. But what does that mean for you and Marc? Especially, when you’ve started to fall in love with Steven too.

Next Part: Reflections

In the 6 hours you’ve been in bed you’ve woken up four times. Albeit, not for long, but a sort of pattern forms.

You stumble to the bathroom, turn on the light, look at yourself in the mirror, wonder why you got up in the first place, and fall back into bed.

Nestling yourself underneath the covers for the fourth time, it dawns on you that you’re not getting any rest tonight, much like the days of sleep leading into this one. It started out small, just not feeling as energized in the morning, and morphed into 8 hours of sleep turning into only 10 minutes of true rest.

All the nights are the same now, you spend them worrying. And it’s so blatantly obvious that Marc going missing was the trigger for your sleep or lack thereof. But you try not to think about it.

You sit in the kitchen, coffee brewing behind you. The smell of it is sobering and it wakes you up enough for you to collect your thoughts.

You’re there for a while. Your fingers mindlessly swirling the small spoon that sits in your coffee cup and your other hand keeping your face from hitting the hard table.

You wish he would send you a sign that he’s alive. A text, a phone call, even a letter. You trust him, you know he’s smart, resourceful, but his job is dangerous. It’s likely that him going this long without contact means that something went wrong.

A bang startles you awake. It’s followed by several softer bangs that you can only assume are knocks. The clock to your right reads 7:32 am. You’re not exactly sure who it is that’s knocking at this hour but you welcome the distraction.

More bangs sound at the door, “Coming!”, you jump up, wrapping your robe around you tightly.

You throw the door open, looking down and away from the early morning visitor, “Sorry, I’m not used to visitors at this hour anymore. I hope you haven’t been waiting long”, you say, gaze shifting up, shock evident on your face when you realize who it is, “Marc?”.

His disheveled look is disheartening, but at least he’s alive.

“I didn’t know where else to go”, he says, his voice is raspy like he’s lived a whole life while he was away. But just by looking at him you think that maybe he did.

He brushes past you, sitting down at your table. It’s there, underneath the light where you can see just how bad he looks. His eyes are sunken in and his shirt is way too bloody for your liking. Although, you’re not entirely sure if it’s his or someone else’s. You assume it’s the latter.

“Are you alright?”, you ask him. You’re certain he wouldn’t come here, especially like this without good reason.

“I’m not here for me”, he responds simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh”, you quirk an eyebrow, sitting down beside him, signaling for him to talk. You quickly access him for any possible wounds. You’ve become quite the nurse with him around.

“I have to tell you something important. You’re the only one I trust, but I’m scared I’ll put you in harm's way. You know what these people are capable of and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to protect you”, he’s being honest with you, you can see it in his eyes.

The worry you’ve been feeling for weeks bubbles over inside of you, “Oh, Marc”, you take his hand in yours, “I’ve barely slept in weeks. I’ve been so worried about you, what’s going on?”.

He sighs heavily, but you continue, “We’ll figure out the rest later, together, but for now you have to talk to me”.

“I can’t tell you the full story”, you give him a pointed look, “at least not yet. I’m honestly not even sure if I fully understand everything that has happened”.

“It’s okay, just tell me what you need me to know”, you reassure him, squeezing his hand tightly.

He squeezes it harder in response, “I need your help. I’m not sure how long I’ve got before he fronts again and it’s already been hard enough making everything strange seem like a dream”.

See the full post

1,025 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

Of Gods and Men

Marc Spector & Steven Grant x Gender Neutral!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: This is the longest fic I’ve ever written- I’m so proud of it. The first part has elements of a request I got from @fangeekkk and the second half closely follows the events of Moonknight episode three. As always, I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments and if you like my work consider leaving a tip! Thanks:)

Word Count: 3K+

Warnings: MAJOR MOONKNIGHT EPISODE 3 SPOLIERS, Khonshu x Reader if you squint, Angst, Several mentions of death, Reader is self destructive and critical, Layla is in this part but is Marc’s ex-wife.

Previous Part: Reflections

Next Part: White Lies

The moon taunts you, serving as a constant reminder of Marc and Steven.

Your nights are blending together again. You spend them awake and worried, a painful ache in your chest that never goes away.

It hurts. You don’t know where they are- if they’re safe.

You assume as long as Marc is needed that Khonshu will keep him alive, but what happens when their work is done? Will he simply leave him to rot?

You try not to think about it.

You wish you knew where they went. You’re no mercenary, but you can hold your own in a fight. You trained with Marc for years in case you ever needed to protect yourself. He was always terrified he would somehow put you in harm’s way.

You’re certain that’s why he didn’t tell you where he was going, and why he refuses to take any of your calls.

You’re calling him again, unsure how many voicemails you’ve left, but you don’t care. You’ll call until the end of time if you must.

It rings, over and over again, until it stops. You try again.

The last ring has the phone meeting the wall in front of you with a loud smack, leaving a dent behind. The impact shakes the mirror above where it hit, the same mirror privy to everything that happened between you.

You’re angry still, not thinking of the consequences of your actions. Your chair scrapes against the kitchen tile.

You walk towards the mirror, intending to destroy it, hoping it will alleviate some of the hurt you’re feeling. You’re mainly furious at yourself, upset you didn’t tell Steven the truth when you had the chance, heartbroken you may never get the time to explain.

Your hands clasp the mirror, bringing it down to you and your reflection makes you pause.

You haven’t slept or eaten since Marc forced you to go that night, and you can tell it’s taking a toll on you. You know he’d be mad that you’re neglecting yourself if he was here and the thought has you sinking to the floor, hugging the mirror like it’s the last thing you have of both of them.

“Good, I don’t need to intervene”, a low voice says, the sound filling the entire room. Your eyes dart around, trying to find the source, but all you find is open air.

“I'm certain Marc wouldn’t want his pet injured, even if they themselves were the ones to cause it”, it continues, close enough to make you jump.

You breathe in shakily, tilting the mirror up, and directing it towards the empty space beside you. A grey beak nearly leans on your shoulder, sharp tip close enough to stab you in the eye if you turned slightly to the right.

"K-Khonshu?”, you stutter out, certain he’s the only god who would pay you a visit.

The beak moves, allowing you to see him more clearly. “I will only say this once”, he tells you, “Marc refuses to ask for help, human pride. Instead, I do it for him”.

“I offer you a deal. When Harrow is dead, I will leave them alone. If and only if, you make yourself available to be mine”.

You’re not entirely sure why he wants you as his avatar. You’re certainly not as capable as Marc or as intelligent as Steven. You feel overwhelmingly average when compared to them, despite your obvious advantage over the general population.

See the full post

1,135 notes - Posted April 13, 2022

A Night to Remember

Steven Grant, Marc Spector, & Khonshu x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: This is a very silly oneshot I came up with based off of a request by @babieluci. Thanks again for over 2000 followers! And if you’re interested- come check out my Writing Challenge. As always, I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments and if you like my work consider leaving a tip! Thanks:)

Word Count: 1K+

Warnings: Fluff, No Spoilers, Multiple smut mentions.

“You are not asking them that!”

“What are you going to do about it? I have control of the body”, Marc responds, equally annoyed, “Who am I kidding- even if you did have control you still wouldn’t do anything about it”.

“I just need a bit of time to figure out how to do it- ‘s all”, his alter mutters, fiddling with his hands, “I want to make it special”.

Marc sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, “If one of us doesn’t just get this over with, Khonshu is going to get to them first and I hate to say this, but I’d rather share them with you”.

“Khonshu is interested in them too!?”, Steven asks, jaw opening and closing, mortified.

“Yes, now decide! Now. Who’s doing this?”

“Give me the body, I’ll ask them- you’re too abrasive”, he tells him, gesturing to the weapon that’s still in Marc’s hands.

“I’m not abrasive, I’m just forward”, he grunts.

“Same difference.”

A knock sounds at the door. It’s quite late for visitors, but you welcome the distraction. Your chair scrapes against the tile as you move to open it.

“Steven?”, you ask, immediately noticing it’s him based on his posture and relaxed features.

“Can I come in?”, he asks, walking inside before you’ve even answered.

He stiffens as his body brushes against yours, worrying you’ll be upset that he touched you, but you only look at him fondly. It makes him pause.

He wants to remember exactly how you look in this moment.

Hurry it up, or I’ll take control

Marc’s voice startles him a bit, causing him to flinch, “Um. Marc and I- I mean we-”.

Real smooth Romeo

“Shut up!”, Steven hisses, making you jump this time.

He looks at you apologetically, “Sorry, he’s giving me a hard time”.

“It’s okay, please continue and Marc be nice”, you tell him, assuming both of them can hear you.

Look what you did, now you got me in trouble

You grab Steven’s hands, holding them in yours, squeezing reassuringly.

“Well, we were wondering if you’d go out with us? Like a date?”, he rushes out.

You laugh a bit when he finishes, and he looks like he’s ready to run out the door.

See the full post

1,198 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

Tears Ricochet

Khonshu x Gender Neutral!Reader

Eventual Marc Spector & Steven Grant x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Okay, some of you are going to be annoyed at me for this one. I just needed to lean into the angst during this part- I swear. I promise you the next part will be less heartbreaking. This is another request from @fangeekkk and I decided to turn it into a series instead of a oneshot, so here we are. As always, I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments and if you like my work consider leaving a tip! Thanks:)

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Major angst, No Spoilers, memory loss, mentions of death and the afterlife, Steven and Marc aren’t in this part but they will show up eventually.

Summary: The ennead made you forget your service, any memory of your beloved God. So when you meet Steven and Marc, both connected to the deity- and begin to fall in love with them. Will you remember the God that once had your heart?

Next Part: Begin Again

“I call for judgment against Khonshu”, Hathor’s avatar says, a conduit for the God’s voice.

“The charges?”

“Forming an improper relationship with an avatar”, she accuses.

“Khonshu, is this true?”, another God asks, their avatar’s face looking appalled at the thought.

You look at him, torch light dancing through his form, small reflections of it sent from his bronze staff onto your face. Despite his height and demeanor, you can tell he’s anxious. His hand grips the metal rod so tightly that the bandages surrounding it are beginning to come loose.

Beak lifted, he turns, silently requesting permission to speak through you.

You nod your consent to him, your eyes glowing a bright blue, before fading again.

“Hathor is clouded by jealousy surrounding our previous entanglement”, he booms, voice mixing with yours. You’re certain you’ll never get used to the feel of it, but you enjoy the control it gives him over you.

“That is not an answer”, Horus reminds him.

“The matter does not involve you”, the God says simply, trying to stay calm.

“Khonshu has always blurred the lines between himself and the humans”, Hathor states, “It is not surprising that he has decided to debase himself with one”.

“Quiet!”, he screams through you, forceful enough to bring tears to your eyes, “Humanity is beautiful and worth our protection, somewhere along the way the Gods lost sight of that. And because I refused to, I was banished”.

You can feel his breath hitch through yours, waiting for something to happen.

It’s strange to you, having this effect on the God.

You know he always had his reservations surrounding your relationship, but you’ve never seen him like this. Almost scared.

You can feel ripples of uncertainty flow through your bond as the silence stretches uncomfortably. The Gods must be talking amongst themselves, instead of using their avatars. You try to look at him in a way that’s reassuring, but Khonshu can tell it isn’t genuine.

It’s obvious that you’re more nervous than he is regarding the situation.

“Let us speak to your Avatar”, Tefnut says, severing your connection with him.

You breathe heavily, being used like that always drains your energy.

“Have you formed an improper relationship with your God?”, she asks, lines etching her forehead in frustration.

“Improper”, you snarl angrily, mocking her. You’re livid, who are they to tell you who you can and can’t love?

See the full post

1,602 notes - Posted April 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

A God, a Mercenary, and a Gift-Shopist

Steven Grant, Marc Spector, & Khonshu x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Hopefully, this will tide you over while we wait for next weeks episode and I finish up some requests! It’s a cute little fic my head turned into- well this. I’m definitely willing to write more for it, maybe some full-on Khonshu smut if anyone is interested in reading it. As always, I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments and if you like my work consider leaving a tip! Thanks:)

Word Count: 1.1K+

Warnings: Fluff, No Spoliers, Smut!

Summary: You meet Steven at a coffee shop, falling in love with him, and two others connected to him.

Steven

You’re in line waiting when you first see him. He’s cute, sitting at one of the many empty tables in the back, glasses halfway down his nose- like they had fallen and he didn’t care to push them up. You watch him for a while, but he doesn’t notice you, too captured by the book that sits in front of him.

The barista calls your name, pulling you from your trance. You grab your coffee and thank her, moving toward where the man is sitting.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?”, you ask, gesturing to the empty seat across from him.

He looks around for a moment. There are other open tables, and yet, you choose to sit with him.

“Sure”, he says softly, closing his book.

You look at the title, sitting down in front of him, “The Egyptian Book of the Dead, interesting”.

“Ah- Yes, well I work at the museum”, he tells you, pointing across the street, “It’s nice getting to see the exhibits everyday, makes you want to learn more about them”.

You look at him excitedly, almost impressed? He sighs dismissively, “I work at the gift shop. The pay is good, but my boss is quite harsh- and that’s on a good day”, he pauses, noticing your expression hasn’t changed, “I’m sorry if you were looking for a tour guide-”.

“No!”, you interrupt him, “I actually saw you while I was in line and I thought you were cute so I came over here”.

He fiddles with his fingers, not quite sure what to say.

The silence lasts a while, longer than considered comfortable, before you decide to speak, “I’m sorry if that was too forward, I can leave if you’d like”, you offer, gathering your belongings.

“I want you to stay”, he says quietly, looking at you through the dark curls splayed across his face.

You stop your actions and smile at him, beginning an awkward conversation that eventually becomes more natural.

Your coffee’s long forgotten.

Marc

He groans, stretching his arms above his head, trying to adjust to the dark lighting. Steven’s phone beeps beside him, lighting up with a message. I’m looking forward to our date, it reads.

He makes his way to the bathroom, phone in hand.

“What’s this”, he asks, holding it up to the reflection.

“None of your business”, Steven responds, annoyed. He doesn’t want him to have anything to do with you.

“It looks like something.”

“Yeah, well it’s not”, he tells him again.

“Oh, so you won’t care if I just-”, he starts to text back, telling you something has come up and Steven can’t make it anymore.

See the full post

2,155 notes - Posted April 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #my 2022 year in review #rose’s personal #Moonknight #The Sandman #thanks for a great year!#<3

5 notes · View notes

wayward-dreamer · 2 years ago

Text

*taps mic* *clears throat* Is this thing on?

Hey tumblr fam!! It’s been a while, huh?

I really am sorry it’s taken me so long to give an any kind of update, and I know some people will say that I don’t need to apologize, but that’s just in my nature lol. So I’m going to tell you what’s been going on and hopefully what’s coming soon enough to the blog.

The main reason for the delay in posting has been that I was away on holiday for pretty much all of March and first week of April. My family (my parents and sister) and I took a trip to UK/Europe for 4 weeks, and while we had an amazing time it was certainly very tiring as well haha. I feel like we need a holiday from the holiday, but that said a lot of lifelong, incredible memories were made and I’m forever grateful for this opportunity we got that we’ve never really gotten before.

So because of the constant moving around from city to city, I really didn’t have time to write much. Even on planes and trains, I was pretty much always sitting next to my sister or one of my parents so that’s not exactly the right time to be writing smut, you know? Lol

That said, I did get a couple of non-smut sections of one shots or series chapters done, so I guess that’s something.

Another reason for my lack of posting is that I’ve really been concentrating on my other forms of writing. I’ve been trying to edit a fanfic series into a book for self-publishing (all will be revealed soon as to which one!!) and that’s been taking a lot longer than I thought, but hopefully it should be done in time for a summer release. I’ve also been working on scripts to send out to different development programs and even a contest or two, which I wasn’t planning on but a friend convinced me to do it. I really don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’ve left it up to the universe to decide and just hope for the best!

So let’s move onto what’s coming to the blog soon (hopefully!!):

- I’ve been writing another Soldier Boy x F!Reader one shot since before we left for the holiday, and it’s not even close to being finished yet, so I’m hoping to work on it this week and let’s see if I can finish it!

- I’ve been working on The Hardest Lessons slowly but surely, and I think within a month or two, it should start posting again. Again, hopefully!

- I’ve also been trying to outline a new series which I’m so fucking excited about. It’s been in my WIPs for I don’t even know how long as just small sentences/paragraphs and ideas, so I really hope I can start writing it soon.

- Other than that, I have plenty of bingo squares to turn into fics, so let’s see what happens. Also, if anyone has any requests, have a read of what I write for and let me know what you’d like, because I’d love to hear from you!

- I also just want to mention that for the time being, I’ve deactivated my Patreon. If I get back into the regular routine I was in, then I might start it again, so watch this space if anything changes.

I’m actually so excited to get back to working on all these things, and I really hope that you guys will be excited for what’s coming. Again, I’m sorry for the unplanned hiatus, but hopefully that won’t be the case again. Thanks for all the support and love, I really do appreciate it so much.

Much love,

Rosh <3

#update

5 notes · View notes

quartzwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Attack in The Library

Pairing: Doctor Strange X Fem!Reader

Description: Stephen sends you to Kamar Taj to get some books, but some invaders attack you. Stephen comes to the rescue, and he’s not happy.

Warnings: Fighting and violence

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Originally posted on Quotev // School has be busy so one shots that are already on my quotev will be reposted here, all requests on hold for now sorry // Originally requested by Coppercat615 on quotev <3

Masterlist | Fic Reading Recs | Ao3 | Quotev | Coffee

You had just finished a meditation and astral projection practice session on the Sanctum rooftop. The background noise of the frantic and angry city below sometimes helped you focus. It was just what you needed today. Feeling relaxed, accomplished, and satisfied, you went back inside to see what Stephen was up to. It was getting close to noon, and maybe you could pull him away from his studies for a little to grab lunch together.

Stephen was standing over his desk in his office, a few books open before him and his eyes darting from one to the next. He looked deep in thought and you almost did not want to bother him. The Sorcerer Supreme in his natural habitat, it was like there was naturally a 'do not disturb' sign plastered onto him. You did anyways.

"Hey Stephen, I finished my practice."

"How did it go?" He did not even look up from his books.

"Pretty good!" You walked up to the desk and rested your hands on it, trying to see what he was looking at even though it was upside down for you. "Looking for something?"

He shrugged and flipped one of the books around so you could see it the right way up. The book was old and small, the wear and tear from over the years showing through its pages. There was writings in characters you did not understand scribbled across the page, directions for a spell you assumed. He then showed you another book that had the same letters translated to English, but there were so many variations of each and it looked hard to decipher.

"I've been trying to decode this spell. This is the only instance of it in writing. The Ancient One left it behind but I cannot seem to understand it." There was a frustration in his voice and you could tell from his messy hair that he had been running his hands through it in said frustration.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out." You handed him back the books.

"Hey (Y/N), can you do me a big favor?"

Curiosity struck you, "What is it?"

"Can you head over to the Kamar Taj library and find these books for me."

Stephen handed you a list on a piece of paper. Titles and authors were listed in his slightly messy handwriting. You counted six books.

"Why can't you go get them yourself?"

"I'm busy."

He did have those books in front of him, certainly looking busy. But he could go over there himself and it would only take about ten minutes. It felt like an excuse to you.

You gave him a look, before growling under your breath, "Fine. I'll get you your books..."

Raising up your hand that had your sling ring, you started to conjure up a portal before Stephen interrupted you.

"No, take the door."

"Seriously?"

"You can't rely on magic for everything, (Y/N)."

"Well that door is magic too, you idiot. What do you want me to do? Jump on the next flight to Nepul?"

"Just stop complaining and go take the door."

You rolled your eyes and stomped off down the hallway and towards the door that connected the Sanctum to the two others and Kamar Taj. He did that all the time, scolding you for using magic for minor conveniences. Whether it be you quickly grabbing something from across the Sanctum with a portal or teleporting to the other side of the room for split second. The thing is was that he did it sometimes. When you pointed it out he just told you to shut up. Typical.

Walking through the door that lead directly to Kamar Taj, you entered the library and found just how like a library should be: calm and silent. It was nighttime in Kathmandu so the lack of people in the place did not surprise you. But when you walked past a few shelves, you saw Wong with a stack of books in his arms.

"Hey Wong." You said cheerily, coming up beside him to look on the same shelf he was organizing the books onto.

He bowed his head, "Master (L/N)."

Your mouth formed a tight line for a split second, "How many times have I told you to just call me (Y/N)?"

"Well it is out of respect," He replied, and you shrugged a little in understanding, "But on your word, (Y/N)."

You smiled and went back to looking for one of the books on the shelf. It had some weird and long title, you scanned the book spines for it.

It still felt a little weird when others would call you that, Master (L/N). It came with the feeling that you were in a high position. You kind of were, being taught personally by the Sorcerer Supreme himself. Not to mention being his girlfriend. The people around Kamar Taj and the other sanctums treated you with a lot of respect. Sometimes you did not feel like you deserved it, you still felt like you and being a master of the mystic arts did not change that.

You shook the thought away from your head as you found yourself not even reading the titles. You went back over while Wong moved to the other side of the library to keep working. Then you found it, it was a bigger book. When you took it off the shelf the weight of it dug into your hands. This made you hope the others were smaller, otherwise you would be taking a big stack of heavy books back home. That could be dangerous due to your sometimes clumsy nature.

Opening it to a random page, it was full of runes with descriptions of their spells. You feathered through more pages and they were like that, covered in artworks of detailed images of runes. Then you remembered that Stephen was working on a lot of rune magic recently so it made sense. You closed the book and tucked it against your chest as you moved to another shelf to keep on looking.

While you were reading the little list of books, there was a sudden sound. It was soft. It was very familiar. It was the sound of a slingring portal opening. You turned around, looking towards where the sound came from. From in between the shelves and the tops of books, you saw a figure and the sparks from a portal. You did not recognize the figure, but on a closer look it was a man with black and red robes. For some reason the sight of him was slightly unsettling.

What happened next confirmed your suspicions.

He walked right up behind Wong. Just as Wong turned around at the sound of heavy footsteps, the sorcerer made a fast motion with his hands that made sparks explode from his fists. The energy shot into Wong and he was soon on the floor.

You quickly ducked behind a bookshelf, tucking the book you held tightly against your chest. That came out of nowhere and you assumed it was an attack. Wong was now unconscious and no one else was around. At this hour not many sorcerers were up and about around Kamar Taj. So you guessed it was up to you to stop it.

There were two more portals opened, and the first man instructed someone to look for 'it'. The 'it' they were referring to was probably a book, what else would they raid a library for? It could be any one in this whole library, so you needed to do something before they found what they were looking for.

Sneaking in between the shelves, you tried to think of a plan of action. The adrenaline was already pumping and your heart racing. This kind of distracted you from the planning, but you managed to think of something.

You heard someone nearby tossing books off the shelves, ones that were not what they needed. You slowly made your way closer, your boots against the floorboards not making a sound. Carefully, you summoned energy to create a whip, hoping that the sound of the sparks would not give you away. You threw your magic, the rope wrapping around the sorcerer's ankle and you pulled it back. The man fell to the floor and you cracked the whip on top of him to keep him down.

Before you could land another strike, something from behind grabbed your hand as it was raised up. While turning your head to see what happened, you were struck with a very powerful punch. It send you right down to the ground, the book skidding across the floor as it was knocked from your hands. You scrambled to get rid of your dazed vision and to grab the book again. When you felt the hard cover and clutched it to you chest, three figures were standing over you.

"We're going to need that."

You looked down at the book that you were clenching to your chest, the thick volume was one of the books that Stephen wanted you to bring back. Of course it had to be the exact book you were holding. From the looks of the group, and what they had did to Wong, you knew you could not let them get their hands on this book.

Looking him right in the eyes you said a calm but stern "No." Your eyes were full of seriousness and daring, but inside you knew you were insecure. You were scared.

"We thought we did not need to hurt anyone today." The woman with a thick accent peered at you, a glint in her eyes that you did not like.

You would not stand down though.

Thinking quickly, you cast a teleportation spell and hid yourself among the maze of shelves. From across the library you heard the three separate to search for you. You were still dizzy from that punch, knowing there was going to be a mark on your face later. You teleported again, hoping to get away from them.

Big mistake.

You accidentally appeared right in the sight of one of them. He warned the others and started running towards you. You were in the middle of summoning a spell to protect yourself when from in between the bookshelves the woman slid right past you and struck you in the leg. Soon there was a sting running down your leg and something hot started to coat the leggings you wore underneath your robes. You let out a cry and collapsed onto the ground. Feeling a boot kick itself into the back of your head, you seethed with pain and blurry vision.

"Well that was easy." One of them said going to pick up the book you had dropping in the impact.

"This one is weak, convenient for our mission."

There was another kick that went through you, this time to your stomach. Then again. And again. It felt like the air from your lungs was being forced out, being unable to breathe. Your head was ringing, your leg burning, and your very existence aching.

And they were laughing while it was all happening.

"Make one more move and I'll kill you where you stand."

The deep voice came suddenly, purring the threat out to the attackers.

The hits instantly stopped. You leaned on your elbow to prop yourself up, struggling against the weakness that had over come you. Looking up at Stephen as your vision was starting to become clear again, you saw a darkness in his eyes. This said that all hell was about to break loose.

He used the word 'kill'. Stephen would not kill anyone. Whenever he fought, he did it without the intention of harming his opponent. That was probably one of the doctor qualities he kept, swearing not to hurt anyone.

But this darkness you could see in him. It was unsettling. You felt a chill go about the room. You knew it had nothing to do with temperature.

The gang looked taken aback from his sudden appearance and froze in place, he must have teleported in. The expressions that washed over their faces told you that they recognized him. They were being threatened by the Sorcerer Supreme, his cloak flaring out to make him look bigger and a death glare staring them down.

"How dare you touch her."

The attackers broke out into a run, but Stephen was right on their heels.

You tried to crawl over to a bookshelf to lean against for support, but it took a while since the pain was so strong. You started to grow dizzy again from moving, your breath heaving in your chest. With your vision all fuzzy and body refusing to cooperate, all you could do was listen.

What you heard was brutal.

There were sounds of magic, struggle, heavy breathing, grunts, cries of pain. Also you might have heard the snap of a broken bone, which made your skin crawl a little. Stephen sounded mad. Very mad. What you realized that there was less sounds of magic, but more sounds of physical fighting. You could only imagine what was happening. It scared you a little. When Stephen got angry it was usually bad, but you have never seen (heard) anything like this. The fight continued out if your sight until the sounds stopped. You did not know if your attackers had escaped, been subdued, been knocked out...or worse...but you had no way to tell. You did not know if you wanted to ask him later either.

Stephen snapped back out of his fury-filled state, it being quickly replaced by concern and anxiety. There you were on the other side of the library, leaning on a bookcase and clutching at your leg. He noticed the trail of blood smeared on the ground from where you were pulling yourself across the ground, a deep red soaking your robes. Retaliation hit him that you were stabbed.

He rushed over to you. Kneeling down over your figure, his eyes darting everywhere in concern, he took you in his arms. "It's alright, you're okay."

"Stephen, it hurts..." You tried to say, but it came out as a quiet breath.

"I know." You were surprised he heard you. "Don't worry I'm right here."

He had to act quickly. What he needed to do was get you somewhere safe, clean your wound and stitch it up, and lay you down just encase you had a concussion. The weakness in your body and the pained look on your face made him want to let out more rage, but also hold you close until you were better.

"Okay," He took a breath and recollected himself. "I'm going to take you home. I'm going to lift you up. This is going to hurt. Deep breath for me." He reached around your body, one hand under your knees and the other supporting your back. He counted down so you could brace yourself for the jolt of pain he knew would hit you as soon as you moved. On one, Stephen lifted you up in a controlled motion, his muscles aching a little from fighting the attackers. You let out a cry as soon as the pain came and clung onto his neck and shoulders, you needed him there through it.

You desperately held on, wishing it was over the entire way. Stephen would have used a portal to get you home faster but his hands needed to carry you. He carried you through the door and you were back in New York in no time. But for you the pain made it feel like a lifetime. He brought you to the bedroom which was close by. As carefully as he could, he put you down on top of the covers. The pain slowed to a quiet beat as you began to relax.

Stephen rushed out of the room to go find a first aid kit. Once he found one, hidden in the back of a closet in the hallway outside, he came back right by your side and started to rummage through the box. As he was doing so, he came to the realization that this was gonna be difficult. His hands. His hands shake more when he was panicking. And in that moment they were trembling like crazy. Seeing you like this, the hurt and the worry he felt. It went right to his hands, bringing back the state they were in when he was stripped away of everything he had. When he felt hopeless.

But he told himself to push past it. Because he needed to help you.

Before he did anything else, he put down the first aid kit. Raising his hands up and making a few sharp movements with his hands, energy summoned and made a little rune in front of him. His hands absorbed the bright colours. The shaking slowed, almost to a compete stop. Now he could work. Trying to remember his basic studies from medical school, he began to tend to the gash in your leg.

~~~

You had passed out from being so tired and being in so much pain. When you woke up, it was dark outside and it was a little colder in the bedroom. Stephen was still beside you, sitting at your bedside currently looking through a book that had a title that implied the pages contained mystical information on healing. There was this look in his eyes, like he was trying to stay calm. You could only imagine the rushing thoughts running through his head. Once he realized you had woken up, he put his book down like he was called to attention.

"How you feeling?"

"Dizzy..."

He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"You're going to be just fine." He said, moving a little closer to you. "The stab wound is not too deep, needed to be stitched up. Bruising on your torso and arms." He gestured to the areas as he spoke. "You also got hit in the head pretty bad, maybe a concussion so you need to rest." He pulled the warm blanket further up to cover your cold body.

You have not seen Stephen in doctor mode in a while. It was comforting, knowing he knew exactly how to treat something and how to take care of you. You smiled at him, remembering back when he was a surgeon. He might have changed as a person from doctor to sorcerer, but he kept a few qualities.

"Is Wong alright?" You asked, suddenly remembering that little detail from the attack.

"He's fine. I made sure someone is watching over him."

You nodded, instantly regretting making the movement as it came with a headache.

"Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine."

Then you remembered something else. Earlier you did not think you were going to ask about it. But you needed to. It was nagging you in the back of your thoughts.

"What did you do to them?"

He paused. "I stopped them from hurting you." You thought he was going to stop there. He was, it if were not for the look you gave him to keep going. "I beat them up. I know it was wrong. I was just so angry. I did not like what I saw. Them hurting you like that."

You noticed he kind of dodged your question directly. He gave no details of what he physically did to them. Even with your worry and slight curiosity, you did not press him for the answer you wanted.

You understood why he did it though. He was full of rage and it overtook his mind. But that did not excuse his actions, and you knew he knew it too. He looked a little ashamed of it. He was never good at controlling his anger. You reached out your hand and rested your palm on his cheek. You did not need to say anything because from the look in his eyes you could tell he understood your gesture. Bending down, he kissed your forehead again. Angry Stephen was gone, now it was just protective Stephen.

"One more thing." You said.

He hummed in response.

"You stitched me up?"

He nodded.

"But...your hands..."

"I learned a new rune that suppresses nervousness and its physical reactions."

You had to let out a little laugh, "Of course." Must have been from his recent rune studies because that was new.

"I had to do what I needed to." Shrugging, he gave a smile.

"What about your gloves?"

"I did not have time to go get them," He replied, this made you smile.

The rest of the night consisted of Stephen staying up with you and making sure you were comfortable. He brought you pain killers for your sore muscles and headache, something for you to eat, and anything else you needed. He let you cuddle up to him to rest and stay warm. You had made him renew his promise, and to make a new promise to you, that he would never hurt anyone like that ever again. He agreed and you could see the shame and guilt in his eyes. But you knew he did it to protect you even if his anger had taken over. You both fell asleep into the night, Stephen there to protect you.

833 notes · View notes

spencersmagic · 4 years ago

Text

greet me with goodbye - part 7 of 505.

masterlist // 505 series // taglist

summary: the last minutes in their relationship were always going to hurt. they just didn’t know it would hurt this much

couple: fem reader x spencer reid

category: pure angst.

warnings: no happy ending YET. i will be posting the second part, where there will be a happy ending, but for now its sad. mentions of insecurity and self-doubt, relationships falling apart, love deteriorating in a way that you could only describe in detail if you've seen two divorces in your lifetime and have had plenty of time to question whether love is rotten because its love or if it rots because of carelessness. i, as a self-preserving genius, choose nº2.

words: 2.1k

time to read: 12 minutes.

this fic describes love deteriorating in a way that you could only describe in detail if you've seen two divorces in your lifetime and have had plenty of time to question whether love is rotten because its love or if it rots because of carelessness. i, as a self-preserving genius, choose nº2.

i do want to say, though, that any type of feelings or thoughts are best when expressed. tell him that what he did to you was wrong. tell her that her behaviour hurt you. tell them you've fallen for them. subtext gets us nowhere.

***

Their relationship had become clumsy.

But not in the sweet way. The way they spoke to each other didn’t resemble the first steps a foal takes. Their arms weren’t learning their way around their world anymore. They weren’t studying how each other’s heartbeat sounded at their touch, their words, in the form of a whisper that promised the world. They weren’t clumsily hugging each other, turning into a tight embrace once their arms found their place.

It was more of a carelessness. The feeling that they were constantly avoiding a conversation, that dark matter between their hearts that only seemed to grow. Like two magnets similarly charged, they would always leave a sacred space between each other, only coming into close proximity of each other when absolutely necessary. Still, she still noticed him pulling away.

Or at least that’s what Y/N felt.

Her heart had always been filled with fear: fear of the unknown, of being too loud, of being too present, too absent, too much. And when she felt him pulling away, she felt her heart being pulled apart. But, what else could she do? She’d given him everything. She’d given so much of herself to him, in hopes of being enough. The idea that Spencer was pulling away because of something she’d done, made Y/N sick to the stomach.

Because, day after day, night after night, she would wake up and he would be gone. And he would be asleep by the time she came back from work, not to mention the avoidance she was shown by the resident genius in the bullpen.

Y/N wasn’t going to be the type of person that forces herself onto someone that doesn’t want anything to do with her. She is a lot of things; strong, caring, independent, intelligent and, above all, observing. If he wants to greet her with goodbye, if he wants to show her disregard in the form of over-the-shoulder, rushed, tiny hello’s and dismissive gestures, she’s not going to act any other way.

He treated her like she was poison. She had given him nothing but honey and kindness, but he treated her like all she had to offer him was ulcers and dry mouth.

Sleepless nights holding each other slowly became restless nights hugging themselves in hopes of finding comfort in their own embrace.

He started staying up on the couch. She acted like it was a mistake, like she knew he didn’t mean to fall asleep so far away from her. He was grateful for this.

Because every time their hands would brush up against each other, she would feel the same spark she’s been feeling for the past two years. And he would feel anxiety creep up from his toes, spreading all over his limbs and heart.

He didn’t like the feeling. He especially didn’t like where it came from.

So, he minimized the amount of physical proximity they had together, until it escalated to taking turns on the couch, pairing up with anybody else during cases, and handing information that was pertinent to the case through Penelope.

It’s better this way, he reminded himself through every breathing moment, it’s better this way.

Spencer had made the following calculations.

If he distances himself from her enough to be convincing, The Woman would either think that Spencer loves her, thus leaving the love of his life alone, to live in peace. Perhaps she would find someone who wouldn’t put her in danger as much as Spencer did. Perhaps he would make her smile in the way he hadn’t been able to in the past three weeks. No matter how heartbreaking the thought was, he knew for a fact that his heart would be crushed forever if Y/N spent the last moments of her life at the unfortunate end of the barrel of a shaking gun in the hands of The Woman, as she had introduced herself.

The first option, though more appealing, is still not enough to keep her safe. He needed to make sure that, at the end of the day, she would be able to come home, and he wouldn’t have the aching feeling inside of his chest where something like that could happen again.

Y/N was known to sleep through anything. She’d slept through 76% of their flights, making her the highest ranked among the team, as Spencer had calculated once after having one too many drinks. She had fallen asleep in bars when their friends had dragged them out for drinks. She had fallen asleep in bullpens, cars and helicopters.

It wasn’t a surprise that she could sleep through a call between Spencer and The Woman, as she had a sniper pointer aimed at her chest through the window.

The call, which he didn’t even want to think about, had started everything. It had started his sleepless nights; it had started his paranoia and fear of being seen with her. It had created a distance between the two of them that could only be mended once The Woman was apprehended, or dead.

Spencer preferred the last.

He had never felt such anger. Spencer wasn’t the type to hate, but when she saw the way The Woman had been smirking at him, hands firm but careless, as she grasped her weapon from the house balcony diagonal to them, he could only think the darkest thoughts. Terrible ideas came to mind, of torture and endless pain, where she was at the other end.

She had asked him how she looked. She had even posed for him as he sobbed quietly. He could only dream of exactly how good she’d look surrounded by the prettiest flowers, in a casket.

He wanted to hurt her. In ways he’d never dreamt of hurting anybody before.

From that moment on, he had been texted from an unknown caller. She had been making requests. Spencer, won’t you buy me a beautiful dress? Spencer, it’s our anniversary, I expect a gift. And the latest. Spencer, buy me flowers, won’t you? I’ve had a terrible day.

So he had gone out. Done all these things she wanted, out of pure fear. Because every time he closed his eyes, he would see the red dot around Y/N’s chest. He would see the way her soft breath made her chest rise and fall as she slept a dreamless sleep. And it paralyzed him.

Spencer had been feeling observed for the past three weeks. Every time she called, her language always indicated that she was somewhere close, watching: a comment about how handsome he looked, how sad Y/N looked traveling alone in the metro, how much his shirt complimented his eyes. So, how could he even think about talking to Hotch, or Prentiss, or anybody else about what was going on? She seemed to creep up in every corner he would turn, every store he would walk into. Every breathing minute had her voice stamped on it.

Spencer walked into their apartment. It felt like a chill rushing onto him, like a ghost walking through him. Perhaps he had, once again, forgotten to call their HVAC repairman. He had been doing that for a while now, as Y/N would note: forgotten to make an effort for her, to fight for her.

Maybe, just maybe, it was the change in scenery. The warmth that usually rushed onto both of them, in the form of hugs and physical care, the smell of freshly baked cookies, or candles, or incense, or anything that said I care about this space, and I care about you.

But that was long gone. Forgotten.

He had expected Y/N to be sleeping. Or at least, pretending to sleep. But as he walked in, he saw her cooking. She was cooking Rossi’s pasta, a dish they had all been taught one day when Rossi invited them for “family bonding time”.

Only she wasn’t cooking. Upon further inspection Spencer realized that she was leaning over the sink. Hyperventilating.

He wanted to rush to her side. To hug her and tell her that everything would be alright. That soon, he would give her everything. He would be there next to her every night, loving her, showing her just how much she’s worth in his eyes. But he can’t do such thing. Not when She could be close, watching.

“Y/N? What is wrong?” he kept his voice as monotonous as possible, and it broke her heart further. It destroyed the last hope it held. Selfishly, naïvely, even, she thought that he would rush to her side, to hug her, tell her he’s sorry for what he’s done. Hell, even to explain just why he was treating her like she was nothing but an inconvenience.

“I can’t do this anymore, Spencer. You know I can’t. It’s not who I am” she whispered between soft sobs.

All he wanted to do was tell her how much he loved her. That he never wanted to hurt her. He wanted to explain the situation at hand, that he’s cooking up a plan and that, once The Woman disappears, they can go back to normal. But he stood there, emotionless. Like he was looking right past her.

She grabbed her coat, put on her boots and rushed out. Not another word was wasted in the rotten relationship that they had wanted to let flourish in that apartment.

He watched her leave before everything settled. Like dust - like tiny particles that had accumulated due to the carelessness, lack of trying.

When they started their relationship, Spencer had gone out of his way to make her feel loved.

He knew how much she had worked to get to where she is in terms of self-confidence and love. He knew just how hard it had been for her, because Spencer had been there every step of the way. He had loved her through every moment where she couldn’t love herself. He had introduced her to the world of affirmations, and how important it is for her to remind herself every single morning that she’s worthy of love, that she is allowed to take up space and that she’s beautiful.

After their first fight, which was instigated by the feeling she constantly had of not feeling enough, resulting in some harmful words said and some feelings left unexpressed, he made sure she knew just how much he loved her. He told her my love, I will love you until my heart stops beating. And, if, for any reason, I change my mind, which I know wont happen, I will immediately tell you. Until then, I will love you as much as you need. But you need to remind yourself, too.

As she walked out of the doorway, she affirmed once again.

Spencer is my boyfriend, he loves me, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me. She added, he’s right behind me. He’s following me out because he cares about us, and wants to fight for what we have.

But as she turned around, he was gone.

And she was left only with the constant reminder that the embrace of the coat she had picked out could never replace the feeling of his arms around her, soothing her.

After what felt like forever, but was probably sometime around two hours, she decided to walk back to their shared apartment.

She had cried, called Penelope to tell her what happened, lied down on the grass looking up at the stars in that park they went on a picnic to during one of their first dates. She had screamed in anger, and kicked the ground, and cried over an ant she had stepped on accidentally.

She had made decisions. Decisions to go back, to leave him, make a bag with all of her belonging, the things that she had picked out to nourish an environment and relationship that was bound to fail. And she would leave.

But, as Y/N walked back, she found the front door open, the apartment trashed in a way that screamed threat, and a promise in the form of a note.

I know where you are. If you come looking for him, I will kill you both.

ºººººººººº

if you liked it, please consider liking and reblogging, or sending me an message.

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x @username2002 @eoupe @galaxydefenderjulia @spencerreid-mgg @spenxerslut @urie-bowie-mercury @onyourfingertips @big-galaxy-chaos @fiftyshadesofspencerreid @tbuhgs @jswessie187

tags not working: @idontwantyourcookiesthanks

i love you all. stay happy, healthy and safe. 🤍🫂

93 notes · View notes

rosedive · 4 years ago

Text

Worth Fighting For - G.W.

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N and her friends planned the perfect get away. The only thing not perfect? George and her broke up right before it was time to go. Now, they’re stuck sharing a room for one week and dealing with their friends trying to push them back together at every turn.

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: Brief alcohol usage, alludes to sex but no actual smut, mentions of cheating but no one actually cheats, kinda angsty but a fluffy ending. I don’t think anything else?

A/N: *gasp* and there was only one bed?? This is so cliche I don’t even care. I’ve posted two Fred fics, so it was time for some George love. Feedback always welcomed! Pictures are from Pinterest.

message to be added to tags :)

You stared at yourself in the dressing room mirror, adjusting and readjusting the straps of the short floral dress. Truthfully, the dress fit perfectly, but you still couldn’t seem to get comfortable. A frustrated sigh fell from your lips just before the curtain to the dressing room flew open, causing you to squeal.

“Give a girl some privacy, would ya?” You huffed once your eyes adjusted to Angelina’s beaming face.

“Oh please, you’re completely dressed.” She rolled her eyes lightly. “Speaking of, I love that dress on you.”

“Really?” You turned back once again, prepared to give yourself another once over in the mirror.

Angelina offered you a nod in response, then without a warning began to strip down to her bra and underwear and tug the maroon dress she had brought in over her head. You scoffed and averted your eyes, only to hear Angelina giggle softly behind you. Years of quidditch and changing freely amongst teammates had made her entirely unashamed. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for you.

Shyly, you faced your body away from hers and began to pull the dress off of you. The next thing you had to try on was a red bathing suit—one that Angelina had picked out, of course. When you had it fashioned on firmly, you gazed at yourself in the mirror. You looked good, like, really good. Still, you felt anything but. Another sigh left your lips, which seemed to be a recurring theme of the day.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t go.” You breathed out, meeting Angelina’s eye in the mirror.

“Uh uh, we are not discussing this.” She shook her head quickly. “You’ve already paid, it’s been planned for months. You’re going.”

“But it’s going to be so awkward!” You whined, finally turning to face her full on.

“You know George would never let things be awkward.” She argued as she placed her hands on her hips. You loved Angelina, you truly did, but you knew arguing with her always ended up pointless. “Besides, you’re really going to miss out on an opportunity to show off everything he’s been missing?”

Even if you didn’t want to admit it, she had a point. You were far from a prideful person, but who wouldn’t want their ex to see them glowing post-breakup? Maybe it was wrong, maybe it was some faulty bit of your brain that craved the validation of proving yourself to him, but you couldn’t help it. You bit down on your lip and pondered her words for a moment before eventually giving in with a roll of your eye.

“You’re right.” You muttered softly, avoiding her gaze.

“Always am.” Angelina quipped back. “Now, get changed and grab that swim suit and dress. George Weasley isn’t going to know what hit him after seeing you in those.”

It was a week later as you nervously picked at your cuticles to avoid eye contact with everyone around you. When everything had been planned, a group vacation felt like the much needed escape you had been longing for. Now, it was plaguing you with more anxiety than work or the general qualms of life ever could.

Angelina was at the front desk of the resort, checking everyone in and gathering the keys. The rest of you—which included You, Fred, George, Alicia, and Lee—were participating in a bit of small talk. Everyone but you seemed to have bright smiles on their face, excitedly awaiting what the rest of the week away would bring. Unbeknownst to you, George too lacked any sort of visible excitement, as his eyes couldn’t seem to leave your figure or the way you were partaking in that old nervous habit of yours. He hated to see you so visibly distressed, but what he hated even more was knowing that he was the cause of your unease.

“Got ‘em!” Angelina announced brightly as she returned to the group. In her hand, she dangled three room keys in the air.

You reached your hand forward to retrieve one right at the same time George did, resulting in the two of you brushing hands. You quickly withdrew your hand, and you didn’t miss the pained expression that crossed his face from you doing so. It made you feel awful, truthfully, but you couldn’t help it. You just weren’t prepared to be near him, to touch him, so soon.

“Eager, are you?” Fred attempted to lighten the situation, but you only could muster the energy to offer him a small grimace in response.

Angelina rolled her eyes lightly before handing you a key, then Alicia one, then tucked the final one in her pocket. Your brows furrowed at her actions, and you found yourself glancing anxiously between Alicia and Angelina.

“Why’d ya give me and Alicia both a key?” The question was somewhat rhetorical, because you feared you may already know the answer. Your stomach was in knots at just the prospect. “I just figured… We,” You paused to gesture between you and Alicia. “Would share a room, and George and Lee would share one.”

Of course, this trip had been planned long in advance, well before your and George’s untimely breakup. At the time, it had only been logical that you and George, and Angelina and Fred—the two couples—would have their own rooms, while Lee and Alicia shared one with two beds in it. You hadn’t thought to clarify the change in plans before coming, you had just hoped it would be obvious. There was no way you could share a room with George for a week when the wound of your failed love was still so fresh.

“Sorry, doll face,” Lee grinned at you. “But I don’t share beds. ‘m a kicker.”

“That’s fine.” You hurriedly shook your head. “George can just take Alicia’s single bed, and me and her can share the double.”

“Actually,” Alicia paused to let out a small cough. “Bad timing, babe, but I think I might be coming down with something. Wouldn’t want to get you sick.”

You narrowed your eyes at your friend. The two of you had known each other long enough to know that she was most definitely lying. Your mind was in overdrive trying to come up with the best way to nicely insinuate that she most certainly wasn’t sick, but George spoke up before you had the chance.

“I can just take the floor. It’s fine.” His voice was soft and there was an undeniable trace of pain behind it. Your eyes found his for the first time, and you felt as though your heart was breaking all over again.

The worst part about your breakup had been the fact that it wasn’t born out of some explosive fight or some lack of love. The two of you had just gotten too caught up in your own work lives and fell out of touch with communication. In the end, you both agreed you still loved one another, but you felt too far apart to fight for what you once had. You had both hoped to remain friends, but doing so ended up being harder than you’d expected.

“Alright.” Your voice was soft, just as it had been in the end. “That’s fine.”

With that, Angelina wordlessly lead the group of you towards the elevator. It was most of your first time spending so much time amongst muggle amenities, but Angelina had done her research. She had almost everyday of the trip packed with sightseeing and activities, all to give you the experience of what a true muggle holiday would be like. At about a year past the end of the war, this was exactly what all of you needed.

After arriving on your floor, you headed down the long hallway in search of your rooms. Lee and Alicia’s was right next door to Fred and Angelina’s, while you and George were across the hall from them. Silently, you turned the key into the door and pushed it open. You could feel George’s presence behind you, but neither of you could find the words to speak.

Once your eyes adjusted to the bright light spilling in, you let out a small gasp in awe. It was beautiful, truly. A bathroom sat to your left, but further in the room laid a queen-sized bed, a television sat before it, then large sliding-glass doors that lead you to a balcony overlooking the ocean. You sat down your bags and made your way to the door, unlatching the hook before stepping out and breathing in the warm, salty air.

“Bet they’re all jealous, we got the room with the view.” George joked lightly as he came out to stand beside you. You simply hummed in response, keeping your eyes trained outward. George let out a soft sigh before facing his body towards you. “Look, Y/N, I don’t want this whole trip to be weird.”

“I don’t want that either.” Your voice was quiet as you forced yourself to look at him.

“Then let’s just, you know, be friends for the next seven days. Like we used to be. If you want to go back to not speaking after, I completely get that. But can we just try, for now?”

You bit down on your lip as you weighed your options. Just being this close to him was excruciatingly hard, but what other choice did you have? There was no point in making things awkward for everyone else, or ruining the trip, so you’d have to agree.

“Okay.” You finally nodded and extended out your hand. “Friends.”

“Friends.” He grinned at you, that same signature grin that had always made your heart race.

Godric, the next seven days would be hard.

A little over an hour later, you found yourself on the beach with the rest of the group. You had put on the red swimsuit that Angelina urged you to buy, and had gotten a little bit of that validation you craved when George’s eyes widened at the sight of you. Now, though, all you could focus on was the pit of nerves forming in your stomach.

Number one on Angelina’s itinerary of things to do was paddle boarding. You had asked Alicia to share a board, to which she swiftly declined. Leaving you to share with George.

Although the place you had rented the boards from had given you instructions on how to stand up on the board and all of the safety requirements, it seemed almost no one listened. The group of you hadn’t even be out for more than five minutes before Fred was tumbling off of the board, effectively flipping Angelina into the water as well.

“You prat!” Angelina screeched when she breeched the surface. Fred was laughing uncontrollably as he tried to coax Angelina into his arms, which only resulted in her splashing him.

“Reckon we’ll be the best at this.” George spoke to you confidently. Before you could stop him, he was swiftly raising to his feet, causing the board to wobble slightly. You squealed, but ultimately calmed when the rocking ceased. “See? I’m a natural at this.”

“Think I’ll just stay down here for a bit.” You glanced over your shoulder at him. You were still on your knees, certain if you tried to stand, the two of you would end up in a similar situation as Fred and Angelina.

“Oh come on!” George whined. You looked up at him defiantly, only to find an ever familiar mischievous glint now in his eyes. “If you don’t get up, I suppose I could just…” And without finishing his sentence, he widened his stance and began rocking the board slightly.

“George!” You yelped, grabbing desperately to the sides of the board. “Fine, fine, I’ll get up!”

A triumphant grin found its way on to his face as you scrambled to your feet, doing your best to keep your balance. When you wobbled slightly, George’s hands found their way to your waist, steadying your movements.

“I’ve got ya.” He chuckled, causing your face to flush. You were thankful your back was now to him, because the last thing you wanted was for him to see the effect he still had on you.

To your left, Lee had now purposefully flipped their board as well. Alicia was fuming as she tried to hoist herself back up on the board, only to be slid back into the water from Lee moving it. You and George made eye contact as you watched your friends struggle, immediately bursting into a fit of laughter.

For about another hour, it went on this way. George never flipped your board, despite multiple teasing threats that he was going to, and for that you were thankful. When it was about time to turn the boards back in, Fred had the idea to race back to the shore. Unluckily for you, the twins were pretty competitive, so you had to take this seriously, for George’s sake. Lee and Alicia didn’t stand a chance, what with him constantly laughing, leaving you two neck and neck with Fred and Angelina. Just before you reached the shore, you got an idea. You paused your paddling and glanced back to wink at George, who was looking at you confused.

“Oh no, Ang, your bikini top came undone!” You shouted, clamping a hand over your mouth.

“What? No it hasn’t—” She was about to argue, but the damage was already done. Fred had faltered in his movements, quick to help—and probably ogle—his possibly exposed girlfriend. The both of them furrowed their brows and looked back over at you for an explanation, but it was too late, you and George had breeched the shore.

George was quick to scoop you up in his arms and spin you around once you’d both hoped off your board. You squealed triumphantly in his arms, ignoring Angelina and Fred’s protests that you had cheated.

“We always did make a good team, yanno.” George spoke up once he placed you back on the ground. You couldn’t deny the butterflies now swarming in your stomach, and you had to force yourself to look away from him to calm your nerves.

“Although that was most definitely cheating,” Fred huffed as he arrived on the shore. “Gotta give you points for acting, Y/N. Well played.”

“Thank you, thank you.” You dramatically bowed, a grin plastered on your face.

“What d’ya say we head back and get cleaned up before our dinner reservations?” Angelina suggested, to which you all agreed.

The boys began dragging the boards back to beach rental, while you, Angelina, and Alicia began to make your way towards the resort. They squished you in the middle of them, linking their arms with yours, before shooting one another small smirks.

“I know what you two are doing, you know.” You sighed. “You’re trying to get us back together. But it’s not going to happen.”

“I don’t know,” Angelina replied in a sing-song voice. “You guys looked awfully cozy on your board, and on the beach.”

“Because we decided to be friendly, for the sake of the trip.” You retorted.

“Mhm, I’m sure that’s all that was.” Alicia chirped in, a knowing smile on her lips.

You simply groaned in response. With whatever else these two held up their sleeves, you were sure this was going to be a long trip.

Two days later, the group of you found yourselves at a muggle festival. The air was cool and the crowds thick, but you couldn’t be more happy. You skipped excitedly ahead of the group, a bag of candy floss in your hands. The stuff was so sugary it hurt your teeth, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“Oh! Let’s go on that one!” Alicia pointed excitedly ahead of you, gesturing towards the large ferris wheel.

You all agreed and made your way towards the ride, tickets in hand. The line was long, but none of you had any problem waiting and chatting idly. When you guys were finally next in line, the worker asked how many were in your party, before ultimately informing you that it was four people per booth. Your stomach flipped as you saw a mischievous glint light up in Angelina’s eyes before turning back to the worker.

“Alright, it’ll be the four of us in one and the two of them in another.” She pointed to you and George.

You narrowed your eyes at Angelina, but ultimately knew there was no point in arguing and making a scene. The four of them clambered into the first booth while you and George waited silently for the next one. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and the distance between you was noticeable. The ride held pretenses for romance and alone time, and you were suddenly worried that it would be terribly awkward.

“Alright, in ya go.” The worker pointed ahead after the next booth came to a halt.

George held your hand to help you steadily step in before climbing in behind you. You both took a seat across from one another, unnervingly silent as you trained your eyes anywhere but each other. When the ride stopped again to let the next group of people on, George finally spoke.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say they’ve been trying to get us alone together.”

“You’re just catching on to that, are you?” You snorted, a small smile finding its way on to your face.

“I’ve had a guess ever since Fred said he couldn’t sit by you at dinner because the air was ‘too drafty.’” He grinned back.

“They truly are insufferable, aren’t they?” You giggled. “But you have to commend their efforts.”

“Yeah.” George hummed in agreement, idly glancing around as the ride began to move again. When he looked back at you, he had a devilish smirk on his face, one that told you he had an idea. “What d’ya say we get back at them?”

“What do you have in mind?” Your heart leaped at the idea of being reeled into one of George’s pranks for the first time in months.

George leaned forward and began to whisper in your ear, the smile on your face upturning as he revealed his plan. It was good, as his pranks often are, and you found yourself giggling as you nodded along in agreement. Certainly, this would get them off of your backs.

When your booth came to a halt and it was time to get off, you spotted your four friends waiting on you with smirks on their faces. You lightly rolled your eyes before turning your attention back to George and raising your brows, as if to ask ‘ready?�� He nodded in response, and your plan was set into motion.

“I cannot believe you, Weasley!” You screeched. All eyes were on you, which normally would have made you nervous, but the payoff for this should be significant enough to make it worth it. “You are an insufferable, selfish git!”

You climbed out of the booth and began marching away, but George was hot on your heels. The looks on your friends’ faces had quickly morphed into one of shocked horror and it was taking everything in you not to burst into a fit of giggles.

“And you’re a swotty know-it-all!”

“I don’t even know how I stayed with you for so long!” Once you were out of the way of the line, you paused to turn on your heels and point an accusatory finger towards him.

“Yeah? Me either!” He threw his arms in the air. “You always tried to make me the bad guy, even after you cheated on me with Garrick Ollivander!”

You shot George a bewildered expression, not expecting him to take that turn, but he slyly sent you a look that read ‘just go with it.’ Listening in, you could hear your friend’s horrified whispers from behind you.

“Y/N slept with Ollivander?”

“Isn’t he married?”

“Geesh, never would have guessed she was into older men.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you actually knew how to pleas—”

“Guys! Cut it out, you’re making a scene!” Angelina swiftly cut you off and rushed forward, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You shot George a small wink before turning to face Angelina and the others, and you suddenly couldn’t hold it in any longer. Both of you burst into fits of laughter, only furthering your friends confusion. Fred seemed to be the first one to catch on, and he crossed his arms over his chest before rolling his eyes.

“Oh ha ha, very funny guys.”

“I’d say that was some of our best work.” You nudged George with your elbow before a few more chuckles left your lips. “Although, I’m not sure why—of all of the people you could have said—you chose bloody Ollivander.”

“He was the first person who came to mind!” George laughed, putting his hands up in defense.

“You really should be an actress, Y/N.” Lee grumbled.

You beamed at him triumphantly in response.

“Hopefully this’ll teach you lot your lesson to stop meddling.” You shrugged.

All of your friends grunted in agreement, still mortified by your outburst and the many eyes that had been on you. Still, you’d find that once their initial fears had warn off, they were far from stopping their efforts to push the two of you together.

The final days of the trip seemed to go by in a blur. You and George had taken to alternating between who would take the floor, which only seemed fair. The dread you had been filled with at the beginning of the trip had subsided significantly, leaving you extremely glad that Angelina had convinced you to come. Some part of you even thought there may be a chance you and George could be friends again when you returned home.

Additionally, each day the group had still made it their mission to get you and George alone in some capacity. Whether it be leaving you alone together on the beach, or heading to bed early so you and George would be left to retreat to your shared room alone, it didn’t matter. You couldn’t exactly complain, though, because now that the awkwardness had subsided, being in George’s presence lit something aflame within you. It was terrifying, the feelings you had worked so hard to leave behind, all bubbling up within you once again. Especially when you were so certain that he wanted nothing more than to be friends.

Which now left you the night before you were set to go home, slightly buzzed from the many flutes of champagne you had ordered from the resort’s open bar. Fred and Angelina were a lot more than buzzed, and you couldn’t help but giggle as you watched them sway dramatically on the outdoor patio, their lovestriken energy pulling a few other couples to dance as well.

Lee and Alicia had kicked off their shoes and were wandering down to the beach, leaving you and George, once again, alone. You hummed idly to the soft music playing, letting your eyes drift close as the sounds around you interchanged with the crashing of the waves. George had his eyes set on you, although you didn’t know it, and the smallest of smiles had found its way on to his face.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol thrumming through you or the calming sounds of the ocean, but you suddenly found yourself wanting nothing more than to crash in the bed that waited for you inside. You let out a soft yawn, causing George to chuckle, before sleepily opening your eyes and gazing at him.

“Wanna head up?” He offered.

“I think I might.” You nodded, beginning to slowly stand. “But you can stay down here, I’ll be okay.”

“Nah, I’m ready to head for bed soon too.” George stood as well and offered his hand out to you, which you bashfully accepted. As the two of you walked off, you glanced back once over your shoulder, only to find Angelina and Fred silently cheering you on, goofy smiles alit on their faces. You brushed them off with a light roll of your eyes, but the sheepish smile on your face was undeniable.

Once you were back in your room, you quickly claimed the bathroom to change out of your dress and into your pajamas. When you exited the bathroom, you found George shirtless, his checkered pajama bottoms hanging low on his waist. The sound of you gulping caused his head to snap up and meet your eyes. Perhaps you were drunker than you thought, because you found yourself almost certain that you had seen him blush under your gaze.

To break the awkward tension, you hurriedly bounded towards the bed and jumped onto it while George pulled his shirt over his head. You patted a spot next to you, beckoning him over, which caused him to grin.

“Wanna watch something for a little?” You suggested as he sat down on top of the covers next to you.

He nodded in response, propping the pillows up behind him so he could rest comfortably against the headboard. You grabbed the remote from the nightstand and began flicking through the channels, entirely unfamiliar with muggle television and going completely by which title sounded the most interesting. You finally settled on The Silence of The Lambs—which you very quickly learned was not a lighthearted movie about the fluffy muggle animal.

It wasn’t long before you were under the covers and had them drawn up to your chin, completely terrified by the horrorific things some writer had thought to put in the movie. It wasn’t exactly a jump scare sort of movie, but it left you completely terrified and uneased. Still, you were too enraptured to change the channel. At some point you had put your hand down to help yourself sit up better, only to brush George’s hand beside you. You almost recoiled, but then his pinky was hooking around your own, and you thought better of it.

That was a friendly thing to do, right? It didn’t mean anything more. It wasn’t weird. It was just two friends, comforting each other in some small way during a horror movie, right?

The two of you stayed like that for some time, until the movie finally ended and you realized you’d have to put an end to your small touching. You clicked the screen off before another movie could start and bit down on your lip before glancing at George.

“You can sleep up here tonight, if you want.” You offered. “I mean, it is the last night and all. It only seems fair that we both spend it comfortably up here.”

“Right, yeah, that makes sense.” George nodded.

So with that you were flicking off the bed side lamp and finally pulling your pinky from his, prepared to get comfortable on your side. George turned on his side, as well, so that the two of you were facing one another. For a few moments, neither of you shut your eyes or spoke, you just gazed quietly. The soothing sounds of the ocean worked to calm the nerves in your stomach.

“Did you have a good trip?” George questioned softly, his eyes flickering over every inch of your face. You were bathed in moonlight, and he was certain he had never seen anything more beautiful.

“I did.” You whispered back, your eyes tracing his face as well. “I don’t think I want to go back to reality tomorrow.”

“Me neither.”

The two of you were quiet once again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like the many nights, when things were right between you two, that you had basked in the absolute bliss of just being in one another’s presence. But now, you were friends. And friends didn’t stare at each other so intensely for so long. Just as you were about to speak up and point this out, he slowly extended out his arm and brushed some of your hair out of your face. His hand lingered there after he had tucked it behind your ear, then paused. It was like he was waiting for you to make the next move, to brush him off if that’s what you wanted.

But that wasn’t what you wanted.

So, you lurched forward and pressed your lips to his. He responded almost instantly, his lips molded against yours in that perfect way that only he knew how. His hand slid down from your face to rest on your hip, his thumb just barely brushing up under it and against your bare skin. His touch alone made you shiver, and you had to pull back briefly just to make sure this was real.

When you saw his eyes looking at you so softly, you decided that not even your best dreams were this good. It had to be real. So, you pressed yourself closer to him and kissed him with every emotion you held in you.

It wasn’t long before things progressed significantly, and it wasn’t until both of your clothes were completely forgotten that you found yourself internally questioning what you were doing, and what it meant. But as he pressed his lips to yours and whispered your name like it was the only thing in the world he was certain of, your worries melted away. At least, for tonight, you had each other.

You awoke the next morning with a pounding headache, the kind you always got after a few glasses of champagne. You found yourself wanting to groan, but stopped yourself when you realized you were wrapped up in George’s arms, still naked from the night before.

You sat up quickly, causing George to stir and groggily sit up as well. In his morning haze, he had a sleepy smile as he gazed at you, and it took everything in you not to reach out and fix his messy morning hair. Once he finally processed the immense worry behind your eyes, his mouth fell into a frown and he rubbed at his eyes.

“Something wrong?”

“Uh, yeah, George. I’d say something’s wrong.” You scoffed, quickly getting up to look for your clothes. “What the hell were we thinking? We finally got to a place where we were okay with being friends, and then we just completely destroyed it.”

He was silent as you picked up your discarded pajamas and began to tug them on. When you’d come across one of his articles of clothing, you’d ball it up and throw it towards him, feeling nothing but anger at your lack of self-control and at his charm.

“Godric, I’m so stupid. I should’ve never come on this bloody trip, I should’ve just stayed home. I spent so much time picking out the perfect outfits to make you notice me, to be something you’d miss, no wonder this happened. I—”

“You did what?”

You hadn’t even really processed your own ramblings, but his question caused you to freeze. You straightened up, your back towards him, and let out a soft sigh.

“You’re not over me.” It was clear he meant for it to be more of a statement, but the uncertainty in his voice almost made it sound like a question.

“No, George, I’m not.” You scoffed again, still unable to turn and meet his eyes. “And that’s why what happened last night should have never happened. I should have never put myself in a position to be hurt again.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was soft. “I’ve never wanted that.”

You shuttered at his sincerity, but the sentiment did little to help. Whether he wanted to hurt you or not, you were hurting. And that may not entirely be his fault, but it was the truth.

“We should just pack up and go.” You spoke again after a few moments. “Everyone will be down in the lobby in a little bit anyways.”

“But I want to talk about this.” He pleaded, now standing to tug on his boxers.

“What’s there to talk about George?” You finally spun around, your hands thrown in the air. “Last night was a mistake. A colossal one. So, let’s just go back to how things were before we came on this trip, yeah?”

George looked visibly shocked by your words, so much so that he didn’t speak up. You stared at him for a moment longer before grabbing your wand from your suitcase—since you hadn’t used it since you got there—and began using magic to re-pack your bags. George seemed frozen for a moment, and it wasn’t until you stormed into the bathroom that you finally heard his voice.

“It wasn’t a mistake for me.”

You paused, letting the toiletries you were about to pack up clatter to the ground. Your grip on your wand loosened, then you slowly made your way out of the bathroom to look at him.

“It wasn’t a mistake.” He shook his head. “I’ve missed you more than I thought it was possible to miss someone.” He took a step closer to you, taking it as a good sign when you didn’t flinch away. “I know we thought splitting up was a good idea, but darling, we were so wrong. I’d rather fight for us everyday than ever try again with someone else.”

“You don’t mean that.” Your voice was quiet as you tried not to get your hopes up. “You just think that because of what happened last night, and because this past week has been fun. When we get back home, you’re just going to realize that you don’t want me again.”

“No.” His voice was soft as he now stood right before you and gently reached his hand out to cup your face. “I’ve missed you since the second we decided to call things off, and I know I should’ve fought for you then. But I’ll fight for you now.”

You trembled slightly at his words, but still you found yourself leaning into his touch. You wanted nothing more than to give yourself over to him, completely, but you were scared.

“You are worth fighting for, and I’m sorry I ever made you think differently.” His thumb traced up and down your cheek bone. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

There was a moment of tense silence as you squeezed your eyes shut, letting your nerves be calmed by his touch. Slowly, you reached your hand up and placed it over his own, before turning and placing a gentle kiss to his palm. Your eyes fell back onto him as he anxiously awaited your response.

“Okay. Let’s work on us.”

And before you knew it, you were wrapped tightly in his arms. You knew you both had a lot to work on to make things right, but you were ready for it. If it meant having him at your side again, it was worth it.

When you met the others down in the lobby, their faces morphed from slightly hung over grimaces to beaming smiles at the sight of you and George, hand in hand. Fred and Lee whooped while Alicia and Angelina shot you knowing smirks, causing you to lightly roll your eyes.

George offered to take your bags and load them in the taxi, leaving you for a moment alone with your two best friends. They waited, anxiously, for you to spill everything, but you didn’t want to just yet. For a little bit, you wanted what happened to be just between you and George. Still, Angelina nudged you with her elbow and grinned.

“You can always thank me later.”

TAGS: @theweasleysredhair @letsgotothehop

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #george weasley x y/n

777 notes · View notes