#sorry for the lack of posts this long form fic is all i’ve been working on

[uhohdad]

König and pegging. Thoughts? opinions? musings?

Nervous, so nervous.

He’s always had mixed feelings about your adventurous side in the bedroom. You’re much braver than him in that regard, encouraging him to do things he would have never even thought to do on his own. You’ve certainly helped him learn a lot about himself. Surprised him with his own excitement more times than he can count.

This is one of those times.

He likes your gift, he does. So thoughtful, liebling.

But the rich purple silicone dildo dangling from the mess of straps that you call a harness instills immediate panic, his fingers tightening around the arms of his chair.

He doesn’t think he can do it, liebling.

But he sees those pleading puppy dog eyes, soft lips turned into a pout.

And of course, he feels the sudden, painful erection aching against the give in his pants.

“Äh, okay. I’ll try. For you.”

“Just relax.”

“I’m trying.”

“You’re tensing.”

“I don’t think it’s going to work, liebling.”

You frown, looking down at your boyfriend. Cheek smushed into the covers, his hair a bit unkempt, evidence of both a discarded shirt and hands that had wandered during fervent kisses.

Your slicked finger carefully pulls out of him.

You can hear it in his tone, see it in his dejected eyes. The disappointment directed at himself for not being able to satisfy your desires. A stark contrast to his usual confident, arrogant even, façade.

Wordlessly your hands climb up the comforter on either side of him, smearing lube on the covers as your chest presses against the warm, soft flesh of his back. A gentle kiss planted on his shoulder, another next to it. A trail of kisses along the curve of his shoulder blade until your nose is brushing against his ear, your lips lingering against the skin of his neck as you breathe him in.

Your fingers trace up his sides, barely grazing along his flesh until you find the nape of his neck. Tufts of hair slide between the gaps of your fingers as you cup the back of his head, massaging his scalp with your nails.

“Don’t worry,” You whisper into his ear, breathy and low, “You’re still my good boy.”

He shudders at your touch, the hum of your words, a faint whimper leaving him.

You sit back on your knees, nestled into the mattress between Konig’s spread legs.

“Flip over.”

It’s spoken gently, but it is still an order. He obediently falls in line, awkwardly slinging his long legs to avoid kicking you as he repositions himself.

You take a moment to soak him in, hungry eyes devouring a tight chest and sculpted core. Your hands follow suit, feeling him up, cold hands soaking up the heat that radiates from his skin.

He shudders at your touch, his fingers gently wrapping around your biceps as you rub up and down his torso.

Your hands wander lower, fingers sliding down the tops of strong, muscular thighs to the plusher insides, tracing closer and closer to his cock, at half-attention from your soothing touch and resting against stomach.

One of your hands cups his swollen balls, massaging them between your fingers, the other wrapping around the base of his shaft.

Your grip him loosely, pumping in rhythmic fashion.

The sighs of relief, the squirms under your touch, it’s addicting. His face flushed and swollen lips parted around his huffs, eyes lulling behind drowsy eyelids. Your touches hone in on the movements that elicit the whiny breaths, the tense of his muscles.

He’s at full attention now, cock enraged and twitching in your hold. His hips grind into your touch, meeting your pumps with hitched breaths, his fingernails dug into the mattress.

You scoot back, lowering yourself down to catch the tip of his cock in your mouth with a suck, slicking the sensitive head with your spit. With your tongue flat, licking him like he’s a piece of candy, your hands don’t dare slow, forcing him to fuck your mouth with each pump.

“A-ah.”

“That’s my good boy,” you coo at him, voice both soothing and condescending as you pull him from your mouth with a pop.

He opens his half-lidded pretty blue eyes, cloudy with arousal, looking to you with a plead.

“Bitte, liebling - fuck me.”

Masterlist

Dividers courtesy of the lovely @cafekitsune

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

Stormy Weather

Summary: While you’re struggling to get home from a month-long mission, Jeff and Natasha seek comfort from missing you.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1408

Warnings: None

A/N: Hiii, sorry I know I haven’t been posting much lately. I’ve had so many ideas, but I can’t seem to get them written in a way I actually like. Plus, my motivation to write only ever seems to come when I’m at work and can’t write 😭 I’ll try my best to start posting more regularly again but no promises, thank you all for sticking around :) comments and reblogs are much appreciated :)

This was also based on an ao3 comment from a fic MONTHS ago, that I just got round to actually writing 😭

Part of The Jeff Fictional Universe (you don’t need to read the others to understand)

—————————————————

Natasha rubbed her eyes harshly. Staring at the screen day after day was taking its toll. 30 days this would be; 30 days since you had gone on a mission that should have only been two weeks.

There were complications, and she knew you didn't have the time or the means to contact her directly. But she was exhausted, barely sleeping, needing to be there in case you *did* manage to get in contact. 

Natasha knew she couldn't have gone with you. No matter how much it would have alleviated her worries, she had other priorities. Working on the desk side of the same mission would be enough for her.

Patters of rain made Natasha jerk her head up. No light came through the window, but the circles of water indicated that the predicted storm was on its way. Natasha sighed; she'd been far too engrossed in work to even notice nightfall. She hoped Jeff had been okay with her absence.

After a sigh and a stretch, the door to the home office opened, and Natasha stepped out. A break was necessary, and some company would do her and Jeff some good.

—————————————————

Natasha reached the living room entrance before she paused, staying quiet to see a scene of innocence play out.

Jeff had padded right past her; the Blahaj he carried acted as blinders for his peripheral and even blocked some of his front-facing vision. Natasha watched as Jeff shuffled and hopped to see over his stuffed shark, before the sofa blocked her view. 

Natasha watched Blahaj’s tail slowly disappear before she followed. Jeff had been working longer than she’d seen, as pillows and blankets lined the sofa, along with a few stuffed animals you had bought for him. 

Jeff froze when he noticed Natasha was watching. The two stared, unblinking, for seconds that seemed to stretch. Then Jeff flopped, his back legs dropping into a seated position and his head bowing.

“Is that Y/N’s t-shirt?” Natasha asked gently, pointing at the white shirt half pulled over the Blahaj’s head. 

Jeff followed his nod with a dejected “mrrr”. Natasha knelt in front of him; she noticed tears beginning to form in his eyes. “Miss,” Jeff signed. 

The rain was getting heavier against the window, and Natasha knew the thunder and lightning were soon to begin. Jeff would need her comfort. 

“I miss Y/N too; it’s been just us for a while, huh?”

“Mrrr.” Jeff nodded again.

“Let me help you with this then,” Natasha stated, finally catching Jeff’s attention when she pulled Blahaj between them. Jeff pushed under Natasha’s outstretched arms to take a position on her lap, reaching out to pull the shirt on properly. 

Natasha’s expression softened; she could see how much Jeff missed you, yet all she could do was sit and wait with him. She hardly knew more about your whereabouts than the land shark, but at least he had the bliss that came with ignorance, lacking knowledge that you would ever be in danger. 

“Mrrr,” Jeff hummed, grabbing and stretching to wrap his arms around more than just the shirt. It pulled Natasha out of her thoughts, her focus returning to the room. A stuffed toy in her hands, the weight of the land shark on her lap, the sound of the rain and a distant rumble of thunder outside-

Jeff repeated his whine. Natasha bent her arms until Jeff could cling onto his plushie, wrapping his limbs around it as much as he could and squeezing it tight.

In turn, Natasha drew Jeff closer. Her hidden hand kept Blåhaj upright, knowing Jeff would reject the help but tumble off her lap without it.

Their peace was interrupted by the first - sudden - rumble of thunder. Natasha and Jeff reacted immediately; the Black Widow startled at the sound but reflexively pulled Jeff closer. Meanwhile, the land shark squeezed Blahaj tight and buried himself in Natasha’s lap.

“That was loud.”

“Mrrr.”

“Are you okay, Jeff?”

“Mrrr.” He shook his head, face still pressed firmly into the soft plushie. 

“The thunder is scary, I know-”

“Mrrr!”

“-but it can’t hurt you here. I’m with you. Why don’t we finish what you started? Turn all these pillows and blankets into the best fort we can make. How does that sound?”

“Mrrr.”

—————————————————

One month away from this warmth. One month away from your fiancee and your land shark. The need to find them filled your mind; there was nothing you wanted more, to finally be able to while the evening away, to do nothing but bask in their companionship. As suddenly as quiet settled in your surroundings, so too did the thoughts in your mind, trailing away until you felt at peace. The mission report could wait.

Flashes of the mission ran through your mind, of mess-ups, mistakes, twists and turns, of constantly battling to just get home. You hardly even noticed the pouring rain, too caught up in your thought; even on your way back, the weather revolted against you. A long sigh left you when the door clicked shut.

A cosy quiet came with it. Appliances and radiators hummed throughout the house, while the noises of the thunder and rain diminished the second the door shut. With the quiet, even your brain began to relax, focusing on the warmth and safety you had spent a long month missing.

One month away from this, away from your land shark. Away from your fiancée. Did they know you were returning? Natasha would be greeting you if she'd seen the mission success, but then again, data had been patchy on the field, and you weren't even sure it had been sent. 

And Jeff would be barrelling in to greet you if he'd heard the door shut.

It seemed, for once, you had the element of surprise upon your return. 

As quietly as you could manage, you shed your outer layer of clothes and hung them up to dry. Jeff would always be excited to see you, but you doubted Natasha’s enthusiasm if you traipsed dripping garments through the house.

Through the pattering rain, you made out the faint noises of the TV, soft voices that guided your search to the living room.

You’d missed home. Even a perfectly created mission left an absent feeling, a creeping loneliness you struggled to put your finger on. But it was this; missing the small captures of life: a scene too spontaneous to be planned and small enough to oft be overlooked. 

A dazzling fort of cushions and blankets adorned your sofa. You wouldn’t be surprised if Tony Stark himself had built it; it was a feat of engineering. However, the actual creators hadn’t strayed far. In the middle of it all lay your two loves; Natasha dozed with her arms loosely wrapped around Jeff. The pair of them held Blahaj tight against Jeff’s stomach. 

They still faced the TV, but from the look of the channel, sleep had taken hold of them far before you arrived. Orange chickens flooded the screen, seeming to be the focus of the program – Jeff’s worst nightmare. The land shark had been much more cautious around them since his encounter with Susan, the farm chicken who looked identical to those on TV. Jeff couldn’t have slept knowing his feathered foes were just a screen away.

You switched it off; just in time. Another wave of thunder rumbled, and you saw Natasha tremble in her sleep, her grip on Jeff and Blahaj tightening. Tight enough to wake the land shark.

Jeff awoke slowly; he sought comfort and warmth in Natasha’s arms while he blinked his way into full awareness. The moment he saw you was clear; his eyes and mouth widened, and his tail thumped up and down repeatedly. That is…until he remembered his situation. Very quickly, Jeff stilled, then moved a finger to his lips.

“You don’t want me to wake her?” you whispered, an estimated translation of his actions. It took a few more signs from Jeff for you to understand.

“Mother. Didn’t sleep. Tired. And scared.” 

"And you're not scared?" you signed back.

"Jeff brave."

"You’re the bravest, Jeff.” As you spoke, the thunder rumbled once again. Jeff’s fingers dug into his stuffed toy, with a slight whimper escaping that you pretended you didn’t notice. “Thank you for looking after Nat for me; you’ve done it so well.”

“Now… is there room for three in that fort? I think it’s time we napped.”

—————————————————

Jeff taglist: @unexpected-character​​ @wolferine​

[ohraicodoll]

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 ❤❤

[beautifulbows924]

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:

#5

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

#4

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.

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.

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

#3

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

#2

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 →

[wayward-dreamer]

*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

[memryse]

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.

[bellesowl]

kiss and make up

- multiple characters 

⤷ atsumu, sakusa

genre: (an attempt at) angst to fluff ; established relationship, timeskip 

synopsis: in which you have an almost relationship-ending argument

word count: 2.1k total - about 1k each

warnings: fighting (obv), being called a burden, the boys are kinda mean but they make up for it i swear

- a/n: tbh i was kinda getting sick of writing just fluff so i wanted to spice it up a lil! if this sucks i’m probably going to stick to fluff fics but i think it should be fine? this one also only has 2 characs cause idk how i would be at writing angst LMAO if this does well enough i’ll post the one i have written w kuroo and iwa <3 but i feel like this kinda sucks so oh well

- thank u @kybabi for beta-ing <3

- miya atsumu

you n atsumu have been together since high school which is why you’ve always been inseparable

you went to the same college & moved in together right after, but once he got his job with the jackals, he insisted that you didn’t work and focused on getting your master’s degree

you reluctantly agreed, if only to be able finish & earn your phd soon after

because atsumu is always busy, it’s kinda become commonplace for you to do the chores around the house- like doing the laundry or washing the dishes or cooking dinner for him

but it’s gotten to the point where he expects it

atsumu sighs, unlocking the door to your shared apartment. today’s practice was rough, it was a day of hard conditioning and bad sets and he wanted nothing more than a good meal and to cuddle. the first thing he noticed when he walked in was the mess. instant ramen bowls were scattered everywhere, empty coke cans and dirty napkins were all over the floor, and there you were, in the eye of the hurricane. the second thing he noticed was that there was no homecooked meal.

surprised, he walks into the dining room to see you, furiously typing away at your laptop with four different books surrounding you. you hear his footsteps and look up.

“hey baby! how was practice?” you ask with a smile

atsumu grunts in reply and gestures toward the kitchen, “so.. what’s for dinner babe?”

your eyes widen, “oh shoot! i’m sorry, i was so busy studying for this final that i forgot to cook. do you mind-“ you stop when you see him roll his eyes and head out.

“um, where are you going? you just got home?” you ask, following him.

“out. i have to get food somehow” he replies, “especially because my useless s/o can’t cook a goddamn meal for me” he mutters under his breath

you stop in shock because did he really just say that?

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i heard you right.” you start but he interrupts you

“i said, i have to go get food because someone is too busy to cook a goddamn meal. what do you even do anyways- well, besides spend my money? the least you can do is cook for me, god.” he finally turns to look at you but he feels his heart stop at the look on your face.

not wanting to escalate the situation any further, you try to calm him down, “tsum, hey, i’m sorry i forgot to cook okay? this is my last final before the year ends and i just can’t afford to fail it, so i’ve been studying all day. if you come back to the kitchen, i’ll make you something, okay?”

“i don’t want to eat your half assed attempt at a meal, y/n. the whole point is that you couldn’t get off your ass for an hour to cook when i make the money, i paid for the apartment, hell, i’m even paying for your school! is it really too much to ask for you to stop being such a burden and cook and clean everyday?” he fumed.

you gape at him, shocked that he would even say that. to hell with not escalating things

“at least i want to do something more with my life than hit balls around and retire at 35” you hiss, “and i do everything in this house! i do the laundry, i clean the bathroom, i cook - i do all the things you refuse to. and do i complain? no. i offered to get a job but you refused.”

you turn around to grab your laptop and your textbooks, “just- just do whatever the hell you want to, atsumu.” and with that you walk out the door.

atsumu’s heart drops when he realizes that you actually left. sure, you’ve had arguments here and there, but you’ve never left. he pulls out his phone to call you when he sees you’ve left yours on the counter. knowing there’s nothing to do but wait at this point, he begins to clean up and calls osamu over.

-

it’s already 3 am when you walk back into your apartment, and you blink multiple times when you open the door. it’s ... clean? you’re sure it was a mess when you left, so how would it be clean? you sigh, too tired to think about it more and walk into the kitchen. your eyes widen at the sight. not only is your favorite food on the stove, but there your boyfriend is, asleep on the dining table. you smile slightly, well that explains things.

“ ‘’mu, hey, wake up babe.” you kiss him lightly and shake him.

he grunts and sits up, “baby! i’m so so sorry for what i said. you are in no way, shape, or form a burden, i have no clue why i said that. today’s practice was just really tiring, but i know i shouldn’t have taken it out on you. just please-” he sighs, “just please don’t leave me again.”

your heart breaks your teary eyed boyfriend. “shh, of course baby. i’ll never leave you again okay?” you say, tugging on his arm, “cmon babe, let’s go to bed, okay?”

“mm okay my love.” he replies and practically pulls you into bed. “i love you, okay?”

“i love you too baby.” you reply

“to the moon and back?” he asks

“yeah, and to infinity and beyond.” you reply, your lack of sleep hitting you hard

“oh, i didn’t know i was dating buzz lightyear”

you let out a loud laugh and just like that you both fall into the same routine, love radiating off both of you in waves.

- sakusa kiyoomi

dating sakusa was,, challenging

it definitely took him a while to get comfortable with you

so you guys have been dating for a couple years now, and at this point he’s def clingy

however there still moments when he reverts to his old self

this just happened to be one of those times

“OUT! AND JUST LIKE THAT, EJP RAIJIN TAKES THE WIN AGAINST THE BLACK JACKALS!”

the stadium is silent before the ejp cheering section erupts in cheers. you stay silent, watching your team below. you watch as sakusa stills, still in disbelief. you make your way down, practically sprinting to your boyfriend.

he sees you on the sideline and makes his way over to you. you put on your biggest smile and attempt to make him feel better.

“you did great, kiyo! you’ll get them next time, yeah?” you beam, knowing how hard he’s been training to beat his cousin

he eyes you warily, not knowing what to say.

usually, sakusa gets pretty clingy after games, so you you move to give him a hug.

“don’t touch me” he barked, jerking away from you. “if you hadn’t been distracting me, we would’ve won.”

you stare at him, refusing to let the tears flow. you both turn when you hear a certain setter yelling at the opposing middle and you sigh.

“um, okay then. i’ll see you at home, yeah?” you ask

sakusa merely nods and makes his way over to his teammates. you look around to see if anyone saw what just happened and you lock eyes with your boyfriend’s cousin, who walks over.

“congrats on the win komori! you guys did so well!” you cheered

“thanks, y/n! and i’m sorry about kiyoomi. i’m sure you know he gets that way sometimes.” he explains

you smile and shake your head, saying that you’re used to it and you both bid your farewells. as you walk out of the stadium, you think back to how your boyfriend, the one person you loved with everything you had in you, utterly embarrassed you in front of his whole team. before you know it, silent tears start streaming down your face. 

you enter your home and immediately rush to the bathroom. you draw yourself a bath and make some dinner while waiting. you assume that kiyoomi wouldn’t be home to have dinner with you anyways- and now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time you had dinner together. after you finish your bath and eat your dinner, you decide to wait up for boyfriend and watch a couple episodes of your favorite show to pass the time. 

-

kiyoomi walks into his apartment at around 1 am, completely and utterly exhausted. he kicks his shoes off and drops his bag on the floor. The rustling rouses you from sleep and you sit up.

“hey kiyo” you say with a yawn, “where’ve you been all night?” 

sakusa ignores you in favor of getting ready for bed and you frown when he brushes past you. 

“kiyo, babe, what’s wrong? you’ve been ignoring me all night and i-” you start but he interrupts you before you can finish. 

“god, just shut up, y/n. can’t you tell i don’t want to talk to you right now? i’ve already had the worst day, i don’t need you making it any worse.” he snaps

"kiyoomi, look, i understand you’re upset but you shouldn’t take it out on me.” you reason, reaching out towards him, “listen, i’m here if you wanna-” 

“i said, do not touch me.” he seethes. “you are so fucking clingy y/n, lord, let me breathe a little.”

with those words, you explode. “you know what, sakusa,” he flinches when he hears his last name come out of your mouth, “i think i have the right to want to spend some time with my boyfriend! i haven’t seen you in god knows how long- you leave before i wake up and i fall asleep in an empty bed. i’ve been working my ass off to get some time off to watch your stupid volleyball game and what do you do? you embarrass me in front of your whole team!”

you sigh, wiping away the tears that continue that continue to fall. “listen, i don’t want to fight right now. i’m going to go stay at a friend’s house for the night, alright? i’ll see you tomorrow” you say, grabbing your purse. “if you’re even home tomorrow,” you add under your breath.

sakusa is in shock. the moment he saw your tears start to spill, he felt an undeniable and unrelenting ache in his chest that only seemed to grow with every work that came out of your mouth. and when the door shut? sakusa fell on his knees, his heart dropping. he truly couldn’t believe he said that to you. now all he had to do was wait till you got home.

-

2:38 pm - you check the time on your phone before pulling out your keys. you hope you made the right move, choosing to come back home while kiyoomi was still at practice. you open the door and the sight causes your eyes to widen.

there, on the couch with your favorite flowers in hand, is your boyfriend. he hears the door open and stands up abruptly.

“y/n, my love, i am so sorry. i truly cannot express how horrible i feel, and i cannot begin to understand how you feel.” he takes a deep breath, seemingly holding back tears. “i- i do love you. i love you more than i’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. i know i’m not the best at expressing it, but you mean the world to me- no, you are my world. without you, i don’t know what i would do. so please-” his voice cracks, “just, please give me another chance?”

you run towards your boyfriend, practically tackling him. “kiyo, baby, of course. i love you too, you know? you just can’t do that anymore, yeah? you shouldn’t feel like you have the right to embarrass me just because you had a bad day. and please, don’t call me clingy? i know i do stick to you like glue sometimes, but that’s just because i never see you anymore.” you reply.

“that will all change, darling.” he answers sincerely, “i’ll make more time for you, i swear. in fact, i’ll take the week off, how does that sound?” at the sight of your smile, he relaxes.

“that sounds wonderful, yoomi.” you answer

sakusa feels the weight that’s been dragging him down lift and he realizes the effect you have on him- you’re his breath of fresh air. he also realizes how utterly idiotic it was to push away the one person who could make him feel better.

it’s fine, he reasons, he’ll just never make that mistake again. he swears it.

[spaceman-earthgirl]

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.

[peaches-and-creams]

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

♣︎♣︎♣︎♣︎

[watchmegetobsessed]

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!

[9tzuyu]

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.”

[quartzwriting]

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.

[spencersmagic]

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

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

[spacexcowgirl]

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​

[pretty-boys-book-club]

Quick update

As I’m sure you can tell from the lack of updates to my fics, I’ve been experiencing a severe writer’s block for the past few two or three months.

I don’t mean the type of writer’s block where I can’t think of nothing original, but the type of writer’s block where my mind flat out refuses to form a cohesive sentence any time I sit down to try and write.

And I’m sure it’s something that has happened for many of you. You hit a wall. You’re have no idea what to write about. You try to look at the same topic from another angle, but there’s something wrong that you can’t quite figure out and you don’t have the inspiration you had before to do so. So you stop writing for a day, two days, then a week, then a fortnight and suddenly there’s been months where you didn’t post anything new. So questions start to pop up, the most dreadful of all: is anyone reading what I’m writing anyhow?

I haven’t experienced something like this before and it’s honestly just really messing with my self esteem and my anxiety. And to be quite honest, it’s not just my fanfics. Lately I feel like it’s my entire life, as if I’m under-performing everywhere. To be completely honest with you, I’m struggling even to write this post, too. (You’ll probably find some typos. But writing this serves as an exercise for me right now in terms of just letting words flow). Overall, an activity I used to love and would come very easily to me feels extraneous and stressful at the moment, and I’m taking that as a sign that I just need to give myself some more time.

I struggled with burnout in the past, so I’ve pushed myself past my limit plenty of times and it’s left me mentally exhausted before and I don’t want a replay of that. I’m currently up for a promotion at work and trying to save as much money as I can for an upcoming trip with a couple of friends on November, so real life has been pretty demanding and stressful. I’m also currently facing a couple of health related issues (thankfully, none of them are quite serious) so I’ve been spending time going to my doctors office, seeing a nutritionist and working on my physical well being. I’ve been also working hard with my therapist on allowing myself to truly rest during my free time (I haven’t taken a vacation from work since the pandemic began) and being more present, so being alone in my room writing is not that beneficial to my healing at the moment. I get how writing can be therapeutic for many (and it has helped me tremendously over the years, don’t get me wrong) but currently I don’t feel like it’s beneficial for my mental health to spend long periods of time by myself or inside my own room. I hope you understand that.

So I’ve made the decision to extend my break from trying to write for an additional few weeks or even for a couple of months. I’m not exactly sure how long this will last, but I think it’s what’s best for me. I might publish something during this time but don’t expect any sort of consistency in terms of schedule or frequency. I’m hoping taking the pressure off my mind will help get the creative juices flowing and just be more mindful of my current limitations. I’ll be spending this time reblogging content that makes me happy, likely brainstorming what I want to do with this space, seeing my friends and family, trying to get back at reading books (a habit also lost due to mental exhaustion), prioritising my mental and physical health and, of course, rewatching Criminal Minds (which I still adore).

I’m sorry for being so absent lately and I hope you’re doing well. I feel grateful for all the loving interactions I’ve had on the Criminal Minds fandom and plan on continuing to interact with all the amazing people I’ve met.

Much love,

Cat

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Birthday Cake

A/N: Suprise folks!!! *me laughing maniacally* The whole scenery for this fic somehow appeared in my head and I just COULDN’T let it slip away, so... My biggest inspo for that was @drawlfoy!! Remember her posting the fic where Draco and Reader work at McDonald’s and are total suckers in their job (arguing with the customers; preparing wrong orders; etc.)? Dee unfortunately, deleted this precious, but it’s stuck to my head ever since (lol lol, it’s the moment where Dee wants to get rid of something, but I kindly remind everyone it existed). Therefore I present to you the next Draco x Reader fic related to our fav fast-food rest. This time, however, they’re not working at the same workplace but... I'm going to stop here cuz I don't want to spoiler :P

**The second thing that triggered me to write this fic is the YouTube video I recently saw with a lady who orders the 'specials' appearing to be out of the menu list of McDonald’s, through the Drive-Through. She asked for a birthday cake, was laughed at a few times, but eventually got what she wanted. Applause for the attitude!!

About the fic (context, my bitches): ofc it’s the modern AU, non-magical world. Draco’s the worst boyfriend ever but always manages to turn things into their righteous place. 

Summary: The birthday is upcoming, and Draco is in a rush to think up an idea for a perfect gift. His ingenuity fails, however, and leaves Y/N very unsatisfied with a disaster that has been forged. 

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: my brain playing a total psycho, language, alcohol, sexual undertones/allusions to sex, Pansy being too much of her self... deal...

Tags: @drawlfoy @eltanin-malfoy

Such an unrestrained desire to strangle somebody you hadn't felt in a long time.

Really.

Today was your birthday, which you had been widely announcing for almost a whole month to people you might have accidentally forgotten about it. Having your boyfriend, Draco, on your mind in particular.

You doubted he would have the guts to omit your big day, though as repeatedly as he had done for a few years back. But something between foresight and the second sense of prevention told you to keep reminding him every day of the upcoming event, with a heap of birthday-themed emojis and uppercases in the messages.

Everything was planned out in your head: him picking you up from your house with the sharp-red cabriolet that he used only for special occasions; him driving the two of you to the fanciest restaurant he could find in town; him bestowing you with a nice-looking, golden necklace or a different piece of jewelry you had been suggestively pointing out in the store's exhibition; him booking up a hotel room for you two to celebrate.

Either way, that was much beyond your expectations, as it turned out. And now you were sitting in the front yard of your house, waiting for him to show up.

'If he was going to at all.' This thought invaded your mind for the last hour, try as might to subdue it. An hour you had been sitting tight, hoping it was only a delay caused by a traffic jam or other irrational explanation he could come up with. But you were deceiving yourself, you eventually presumed -- you had been checking up your phone every one minute, only to see if any message notification popped up on the screen, other than birthday wishes from friends who actually cared for you.

2.02pm: Nothing.

2.03pm: Susan 'Happy birthday bitch!'

2.04pm: Instagram notif. (Someone liked your photo, which you had posted before leaving your room, posing in front of the mirror in the best cocktail dress you could find in the wardrobe.)

2.05pm: Nothing yet again.

2.06pm: Still... Peace and quiet.

"Fuck it...Enough," you muttered under your breath, an annoying disillusionment falling like a heavy mile stone on your chest. Tears suddenly started sprinkling in your eyes at the regret, and you were very reluctant to admit that your friends were right -- Draco Malfoy was an egoistic, negligent, self-absorbed pri--

"Hi." You heard the raspy, panting voice says. "Sorry for the delay."

You blinked slowly, stupidly. You raised your head to assure yourself it was him. That his expression actually corresponded to his words and showed some kind of remorse for standing you up. But no... There he was: standing in front of you, plainly confident and unashamed, with his cocky smirk provoking you to slap him.

Oh, how much you craved to slap him right now. "Where to the fuck have you been?"

"I've tried to pick this up," he explained, simultaneously lifting up the paper bag he'd been carrying in his hand. The big, exclaiming letters 'McDonald's' with the brand's logo were printed on its exterior, and it was fully stuffed with something inside.

Not quite comprehending, you furrowed. You attempted to hide the venom in your voice, but somehow it found its way to leak out. "Couldn't you do that in advance?"

"Nope..." It was his turn to furrow, looking almost shocked with the question. And thanks to all those years of your relationship, you knew it was his piss-poor estimation of time taking over. "It was a last-minute surprise."

"Sounds like it," you commented irritably. "What's that?"

"Your birthday present, sunshine," he drawled happily, ignoring your remark. He sounded positively delighted and satisfied with himself at surprising you with that because he saw a slight crease of shock painting on your forehead. "Here you go."

You took his deposit out of his grasp, still quite unsure. What if his gift would only make a situation worse? Can it get any worse with Draco's total lack of tact? Yes. But it was only one way to find out.

Without even stealing a second glance at him, you ripped off all of the packaging that had been folded around, protecting the contents. You tried to do it carefully and without any impact of emotions revealing the way you felt inside, but your hands were shaking with rage, and you couldn't quite contain yourself. You had been highly aware you shouldn't have expected much from him, but still...

You wondered if the universe was playing against you.

There was a moment of tense silence as you struggled to deal with all the wrappings. Rather unfortunately, you wished you hadn't put so much effort in opening your so-called 'gift' because as you finally did, it only angered you more, seeing as the disappointment laughs at your face. And yes, as a matter of fact, the universe was against you today...

"Are you kidding me?" you asked in disbelief, fury reappearing in your eyes. "A birthday cake?! From McDonald's?" Ugly, little cake with the creepiest smiley face of a clown. It wasn't even fresh, you realized, when you smelled it and felt a musty reek of a freezer, it probably had been kept in. A confusing sense of sadness in your chest couldn't reach any higher at this point.

"Don't you like it?" he asked, detecting the wrath in your eyes. At that, you felt the dumbest urge to laugh and never stop. "I thought it'd be something original."

"Oh, I love it," you said sarcastically, a faint voice of hope telling you it was only a very bad joke was still lingering in your head. But it wasn't a joke.

"It's not just--" He struggled to form a coherent sentence. "I've been asking Blaise and Theo about any ideas. I told them, what you had said to me -- 'you didn't want anything fancy.' So we decided it's... something."

"Of course I didn't tell you I want anything, you dolt!" Your voice raised up almost two octaves, and the pulse sped up so fast it entailed a headache along. A neighbor from the opposite garden who was watering the flowers looked at you, startled, and eyes widened your exasperated tone. You didn’t care. "It's how it works: you don't tell other people you expect them to buy something!"

"But I'm your boyfriend. You shouldn't -- er-- feel uncomfortable to tell..."

"Exactly! As my boyfriend, you should have known!"

"Well... I didn't. If that's what's bothering you, we can...we can..."

"Stop." Listening to him and his pathetic excuses was the last thing you were going to do now. "What – why would you even – " You sputtered out, unable to process or express exactly what you were feeling. There was definitely anger and indignation. Curiosity, for another, as to why Draco would even fall for such foolish and ill-considered idea, and -- to the top of it -- hope it would make a good fit. And possibly, the last and most satisfying part, was the wicked impulse to throw the cake directly into his arrogant face, letting him taste his own medicine he had been serving you for years on each failed birthday.

"You know, for once, you could pay more effort and try doing something nice for me," you told him firmly, deflating to calm down your buzzing nerves.

"I've been tr--"

"Do you realize how much it costs me to pretend to be happy when you forget about me? Last year, I organized a big-ass party for your birthday, inviting over all of your friends and buying the best booze I could find to celebrate it properly," you said harshly and pretentiously, as you intended. "The best part is, you didn't even thank me." You stared at him, wringing your hands and expecting to perceive any trope of shame in his eyes. For the first time, you actually did.  

"Listen, about that--" he calmly attempted to cut off your monologue.

"No, you listen..." Did you really want what was upcoming next? Maybe it was about time. "Today, I decided I'm standing up for myself. So, for the last time, get out from my porch."

He bristled, the thunderstruck air hanging around him. "Because of the stupid cake?"

"What?! No! It's just... I feel like you don't give a damn about me anymore." Gulp formed in your throat, and the tears finally left your eyes at the consciousness of what was happening. "I think we both deserve some time."

Your eyes moved to his, and you almost wished you hadn't looked. He was watching you, with pursed lips and a pure mixture of every emotion: anger, sadness, resentment, pretension, dejection. The faintest of his flustered blushes appeared on his cheeks, and you suddenly wished you could hug him. "So you are putting us..." His finger pointed at him and you as if expecting clarification. "...on a break? Is that what it is?"

You were truly torn, to be honest. Becoming single on your birthday was the last wish you had for this day, but you felt a strong sense of adequacy and pride for building up the boundaries of tolerance. Besides, seeing as it was heading nowhere, it was only a matter of time that your relationship came to an end.  

Although, it hurt. A lot. "Yes."

You darted your eyes from him, not wanting to study his reaction in case it caused you to meltdown and jump to his embrace, apologizing endlessly for your words. You loved him. But you didn't regret what you had just said.

Something like a dry chuckle of disbelief escaped out of his mouth. "Is that what you really want?"

'No,' your thoughts prompted you instantly before you could even contemplate. 'I want you to say so many things you're never willing to say. But you don't know.'

So instead, you lied: "Yes."

All expressed, you spun around without peeking back and rushed into your room, already knowing there was no more sense in strives to make this day any better; all of it would bring only bad associations. It would be depressing, even more than it already was.

God, was it how the break-up pained? Because if so, you wanted to be deceased. The world spun suddenly, and you sank to your knees, shaking madly and doing your best to find your way back to your bed, located a few mere meters from you. Part of you felt numb, but your head was wide awake and alarming you that something in terms of a disaster had just happened. Because it did. The clutching in your chest was unbearable, and tears were dashing out of your eyes like a living waterfall, which made you bury your face in your hands. Never have you ever wanted to be so drunk before.

And so many questions rung up in your head at once.

Did you make a good decision? What if you are going to miss him, yet knowing you could never call? What about college -- are things about to get awkward?

No answers.

But you knew someone who would be able to reply to them.

With the blurred by tears vision, you struggled but managed to find your phone in the purse, and then clumsily scrolled through and tapped in your list of contacts before holding the phone to your ear.

Please answer, you begged. Please, please…

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Pansy's voice roared from the other side of a line, as always, enthusiastic.

"Pansy." You tried to sound less brokenly than you were, feeling marginally worse at the reminder of your birthday. "Is Daphne around?"

"Ouch, you're a really nasty bitch sometimes, you know. I'm not goin' to point out today, but since you didn't let me end my wishes, I'll note that for the future reference." You were sure she was grinning at the teasing, seeing as much as she liked that. Normally, you wouldn't mind, but... "How--"

"Pansy, please..." you sobbed out, almost desperate to have someone to consult and share emotions with. Daphne -- contrary to Pansy, who could be very judgy sometimes -- was someone you had especially on mind now. "I need to talk to her."

You heard her sigh; the kind of sigh she used to either prove her resignation or concern. But, as much as it surprised you, she suppressed her curiosity and, without a second word, obediently handed the phone over to Daphne. At least, that's what you assumed because you heard a pause and subdued mutters in the background.

"Y/N?" the milder tone spoke up, and you felt suddenly very strange as if submerged in water of relief; relief to hear the familiar voice. That released you from keeping a distant attitude, and yet again, a sadness washed over you, triggering a loud wail to come out of your mouth. "Y/N, is everything alright?"

"No..." you sniveled, unable to collect yourself together. "I-I... We br-brok-e up."

"You and Draco?" Daphne asked, astonishment evident.

You nodded but then remembered she couldn't see you nor read your expression. So instead, you forced your vocal cords to work again. "Mhm..."

"What happened?"

Restoring the story in your brain again, you told her everything, still tearfully but much more coherently this time. You avoided the details, briefly skipping from one utterance to another, as your conversations had gone, and you were very much thankful she didn't press for more information about the prospect of the situation. If it hadn't been her sporadic gasps or loud inhales of breath, you would have almost presumed she wasn't listening. However, she was, and as soon turned out, Pansy was as well.

"That's bananas!" Pansy shouted somewhere from the back as you had ended, and despite your gloom, you giggled quietly at her comment.

"Shush," Daphne tried to silence her, covering up the fact she had put you on the speaker. You didn't mind because you knew Pansy, who would definitely expect Daphne to cite the whole conversation if needed. But knowing Daphne as well, you could bet she flushed more than she would want to at that point. "So it all started because of the cake?"

"And the delay," you added. "But it's not just about that, obviously. It feels like... he completely stopped caring. And I don't want to be stuck in a relationship where everything is about sex and having fun only. Draco wasn't looking for a commitment, which..."

"Sucks,"ended this time Pansy unhesitatingly, who wasn't now screaming from the other part of a room but openly participating in the discussion.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"As for me, I think he might love you more than you know, Y/N." It was Daphne talking again, and she sounded positively convinced about her view as for someone who had hardly exchanged any word with Draco for the past few years. As if reading your thoughts, she continued. "I've observed you a lot. I know he might seem unemotional, but it's you who discovered him. That must require a lot of trust, you know."

You contemplated, and some of the memories and images from your first encounter run across your brain, try as might to suppress it: spotting each other at the party; binging some whisky shots together; flirty teasing; the very masculine scent of cologne; and then... more spicy recollections -- eager lips pressing against each other; against each others' necks; against other parts of the body; stripping off the clothes in the passionate haste...

Receiving a long moment of silence, Daphne took a second chance and asked. "And what's with you? Do you want to end it?"

It felt like standing before the oracle of truth. Therefore, you couldn't deny it in front of yourself. "No."

"So what're you still doing there?" commented Pansy impatiently, and you could imagine her rolling the eyes. "Get out and find him!"

She was right. You will.

XOXOXOXO

"I thought I'd find you here..."

No. Actually, you didn't. 

You had tracked Draco's phone with your own one with some help of an app that, as the two of you had established still in the relationship, would be a good idea in case of an emergency. That in itself proved to be more than helpful, believing that your argument may be pinned as something in terms of an emergency, right?

So having access to his location, you had found out he was in the park where he had taken you on the first date, shortly after dinner, to watch the sunset that, as he had described, 'was a typical cliche from every romantic movie.'

But you had fallen for that. So much.

You hadn't been aware the place had actually some meaning for him until now, and that... God, that he had even remembered it. Time showed, however, that it indeed did, to which your heart reacted with a happy jolting. But also with a nasty sting of nostalgia following shortly after.

Yet, that only had encouraged you to make up your mind and go looking for him, which hadn't been such a difficult task per se. He was sitting on the bench, in the shade of a tree, and hiding his a little too delicate skin from the sun rays. As soon as he had heard your voice, his gray eyes flew up to see you standing a few meters away.

"What are you doing here?" was the immediate question that tumbled out of his mouth. He arched his eyebrow, and to your surprise, he didn't even look angry or sad with you. Nothing near the edge; actually, almost something like the amusement was painting on his face.

"Aren't you mad with me?" you asked intrigued, completely forgetting about his question.

He frowned. "Why would I be?" His tone was so mild that you weren't sure if he was referring to the double meaning; but then he smirked playfully and said, "Besides, I knew you were coming."

"Wha-- How?" you asked, eyes dilating a fraction, in shock.

He smirked, pointing at his phone in an explanatory manner. After a moment, you finally figured out what he meant: the app must have registered he had been tracked and that your phone was trying to find his. At this notice, you reacted with a wave of flush, suddenly regretting your previous lie. His smile only widened at your expression. "Wanna sit? It's plenty of room here."

"Mhm..." You nodded, pleased to accept his offer, and walked over to the bench, doing your best to hide the evident embarrassment on your face. You felt strange he had taken you with such ease, seeing as merely two or three hours ago, you had burst at him like a cram-full volcano of unspoken emotions.

Draco shifted a package from his side, making more space for you to sit, and it took you a moment to realize it was a McDonald's cake from earlier. Everything started from that -- a stupid, little piece of cake which stood up between...

You shook the thought away, taking a seat next to him, close enough to smell his sandalwood cologne. "You didn't answer my question," Draco reminded you. "What's so important to make you track my phone?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" You rounded your face to him, flustrated, leaning at the backrest of a bench. "That's why I came. I wanted to apologize."

"Oh... Couldn't you call?"

You sighed. "I figured you wouldn't want to talk to me after...you know... our quarrel," you said half-despondent, half-desperate, watching your feet as if it were the most interesting thing to peer at now. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"I know," he said. Out of nowhere, he was gently grasping your palms which forced you to look up directly into his intense gaze. His eyes were swirling like molten silver at you. "But I should be apologizing, love. I made a mistake, okay?" His hands traveled all across to your tense shoulders, squeezing them lightly. "I know I should be more... affectionate with you. And this was...dumb. A dumb mistake. With that cake. But I'll try to be better if you give it another shot."

He looked so serious that you instantly believed him. You wanted to actually, with all force of longing, which grew up too rapidly in you when he wasn't around. Draco was a fool, you could easily say. But he was your fool, which was a thing you couldn't be more proud of.

Peeking slowly in the other direction, you asked, out of the topic, "You remembered the place?"

"Of course," he puffed jokingly, smiling. "Our first date. Officially our place from then on."

"Right..." You smiled back.

Honestly, the mere fact that he had called this spot 'yours' warmed up your heart, and you felt yourself grinning at his never-before-discovered emotionality. To assure yourself you weren't the only one caring, it was all you needed to hear.

The whole moment was intense, and now, you realized, is when you should have hugged him. Kissed him. Said something back at his sincere endearment.

But instead, spotting plastic cutlery next to your 'gift', you asked, "So what's the taste of the birthday cake?"  

And you knew he had caught the subtext of your playful inquiry. And you knew that soon you would work things out again. But, as for now...

"I thought you would never ask."

XOXOXOXO

A/N: Looooooool. Such a drama-comedy, right? And I could easily say It feels like 50% Draco-x-Reader / 50% Draco-x-BirthdayCake... But whatever (2am is working like a drunken bud, folks). Happy beginning of August :)