#that was truly the highlight of my sinking summer

[tchaikovskym]

Anyway, the wedding had a fire ritual and I'm healed

[2baabbies]

🖤 Summer in Winter (faerie!felix x human!reader)

I’ve been working on drafts of this since last October so I think it’s just time to post it lol

Words: 4200

Summary: Felix visits often, but is usually gone when you wake up in the morning. Wouldn't it be nice if he stayed?

Fantasy + Fluff + Smut + Humour

afab + fem!reader

CWs: none really, maybe pining?, implied scary fae lore but not elaborated on

Smut Tags: use of pet names, confessions during sex, chatty sex, light teasing, fingering, praise, so kissy and cuddly waaa, some dry humping, cunnilingus, reader is desperate af/slight begging, Penetration™️ (p in v), unprotected sex (practice safe sex pleeeease), creampie

@bookswillfindyouaway @rixenluv

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

!!ATTENTION!!

Reposting this fic to other platforms, including as a translation, is expressly prohibited. Do not copy, alter, or claim this fic as your own. Absolutely no permission is given to anyone to post my works, even with credit, and this fic should only appear on Ao3 or Tumblr under my accounts. Reposting is not only plagiarism, but a direct violation of my wishes as the original writer and owner. Please respect writers and don’t steal!

Likes, reblogs, asks and comments are very welcome and appreciated <3

~~~

Perhaps it should feel abnormal to welcome the fae into your home, knowing the warning tales you grew up with as a child, but it does not. Especially when it is Felix. He was the first to find you when you moved into this new town- the first you trusted- and he only makes his presence more apparent once the cold winter hits. His visits become more intimate than they were in the warmer seasons, when he would linger at the edge of the treeline and watch you garden until you left a gift for him near the brush. Now when he visits he comes right to the door, asks to be let in, then sits and chats with you late into the night. Sometimes he is there when you wake up, puttering around the kitchen or reading in the living room. Sometimes he is not, and your gut sinks just a bit.

There is no name for your relationship, but you feel the tension building all the same. Felix, always a gentleman, sleeps on the living room couch when he stays over. But the unsaid ‘what if’ lingers in your mind at the end of each night, when you curl up alone in your own bed after long conversations by the fireplace. You try to stay awake and listen for his footsteps on his way out, but you never do hear them. 

One night, hours after you have retreated to your room for bed, you use the excuse of needing a drink of water to see if he has left yet. You are slightly surprised to see him still on the couch, his eyes shut and his breathing slow as if he is in a deep sleep.

Your heartbeat quickens as you look him over, you note how the moonlight catches the softness of his lips and the highlights in his golden hair. His pointed ears and nimble fingers twitch when the floorboards creak as you creep into the room. His freckles and delicate cheeks still charm you even if they are barely visible in the dim light. His eyes open slowly as he turns his head to look at you; lazily, eyelids half-lidded to give the impression that he was truly sleeping, but his sudden awareness breaks the façade.

“Can’t sleep, darling?”

His voice is gentle and a little deeper than normal, which rumbles you in a pleasant way.

“I’m thirsty.”

“Ah, let me.”

He rises from his spot and gracefully steps out of the room. You remain where you stand, waiting as you hear the glasses clink and the tap run. He returns and regards you calmly as you blink the sleep away.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

He guides a glass of water into your hand and tidies your hair where it was mussed by your pillow.

“I’m fine.”

You sip your water as he hums quietly.

“You just look like you have something to say.”

“When do you go back to the forest?”

He cups your cheek with a soft smile.

“When I know you’re asleep, and safe.”

“You don’t have to wait for me to fall asleep, you know. You can leave whenever you want.”

“But wouldn’t you be disappointed?”

Your cheeks flare as you feel caught.

“Does that matter?”

“It wouldn’t to some.”

Your heart skips.

“But it does to you?”

“Of course.”

“You really don’t have to stay, Felix.”

“I know, but I have to know you’re alright. I’ll just keep thinking about you if I leave now.”

His response may as well be a confession with the way Felix says it, and you do not know how to react. You blink a few times, suddenly sure you must be dreaming or hallucinating this. His warm hand on your cheek, caressing you gently, reminds you that this is real. 

“You will?”

It is all you can manage and your voice quivers out at the end of the question. You shiver and let him take the glass from your hand. Perhaps you are both nervous that you will drop it with how shaky his words have made you.

“You should get back in bed, sweetheart.”

You nod and let him lead you back to your bedroom. He sets the glass down as you crawl into your bed. You gaze up at him in the dark, feeling him pull your blanket up and tuck you in.

“Felix?”

“Yes?”

“Will you lay with me?”

He pauses as he contemplates your request.

“I’m cold,” You add, desperate to convince him.

“It is cold, isn’t it?”

You say nothing as Felix lifts the blanket and slides in beside you, but feel a bit of pride that he accepted your invitation. You try not to dive into his arms as they come around you, try to restrain yourself from melting immediately when you breathe in his fresh summer scent. He lays his head on the pillow next to you and, very loosely, embraces you. The position is a little awkward, but you are too embarrassed to move any closer.

“You avoided my question earlier,” You murmur into the pillow, half-hoping he ignores you.

“Hm, what was the question, darling?”

“Do you really think about me when you leave?”

You shut your eyes, your face feels on fire.

“Oh, always.”

“Always?”

Felix sighs softly and whispers, “I can’t think about anything else sometimes. It’s… difficult.”

“Why?”

“Because… I can’t help but fret over you. I wonder if you’re eating, and if you’re sleeping. I wonder who you are seeing. I wait helplessly when you go far away. I worry something wicked will find you, you sweet thing. And to be worrying like that all the time, it can make a faerie weak.”

You open your eyes and meet Felix’s gaze, longing and tired as he watches you.

“Oh.”

“Yes. Always on my mind. Isn’t it shameful?”

“Why would you be ashamed?”

“Doesn’t it make you feel ashamed?”

You swallow.

“Not because… I think those feelings are wrong. Well, actually, that’s a lie,” You laugh breathlessly, “My whole life I’ve been told how dangerous your kind is, and not to let myself get trapped in fae magic. And love is a sort of trap, right? It’s vulnerability, it’s deals and promises, and in theory I should be wary. But I’m already so far gone, so what am I holding back from? But I don’t necessarily think these feelings are bad or want them to stop. God, I never want this to stop. I’m so happy with you. I just don’t know. I don’t know what to say, and I know I’ll say something that will make me more anxious because…”

You trail off as you notice Felix watching you with wide eyes.

“Because of this. Because I’ll run my mouth and regret it afterwards,” You finish.

“Oh,” Felix answers carefully, “You think wanting me would be wrong. Because you’re a human.”

“No, I-I don’t. I don’t care if it’s right or wrong, I just… I get embarrassed because I don’t know how to make it make sense to both of us. I can’t speak in front of you.”

“You’re speaking right now.”

You laugh at his teasing lilt.

“Yeah, and making a fool of myself.”

“Well, then you understand my predicament.”

“I don’t.”

“The feeling you’re describing now, this fear you have, I feel it every day when I leave you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. And it is so, so relentless.”

He continues to stare, patiently awaiting your reply. You shudder at the intensity in his eyes and they soften, before he pulls you closer.

“Are you still cold, my darling?”

You tense as he pulls you in. Your head comes to his chest and he slips his thigh between your legs. Your bodies curl together and his arms hold you a little tighter, with more certainty than before. You shakily squeeze him back, but the closeness is not what makes you shiver.

My darling. 

The alteration to your pet name is intentional.

“Felix?”

“Yes?”

“Do you…”

He chuckles and your lips shut tightly.

“Yes?”

“Do you feel the same way?”

“I do.”

“Can you kiss me?”

He pulls back to look down where your head rests on his chest, and you look up.

“I could kiss you. That is certainly within my abilities.”

“You’re- ugh.”

You both laugh as he presses his forehead to yours. You begin to realize how warm he is, how every spot where your body touches his is soothed. His magic seeps into your body, making your chest tighten and stomach flip. The heat is almost too much, almost burning, but you refuse to move away. Everything intensifies when the laughter dies down and he finally kisses you.

His mouth moves slowly against yours, giving you time to register the contact and adjust to it. Your thighs tense as you press closer, and you feel his thigh move just a bit higher to put some pressure between your legs. You gasp and he breaks away, enough so you can both pant into the space between you. You duck your head as your cheeks heat up again and he gives you an experimental nudge. You barely muffle a moan in his shoulder.

“Sweetheart, how does that feel?”

You try not to rut yourself on his thigh but he pushes against you again, and you instinctively roll your hips to chase the pleasure.

“A-Ahn, nice,” You cry softly.

“Nice?”

You bite your lip and look up pitifully as he leans back to take you in.

“Mh-hmnn…”

“Oh, you are precious.”

You whimper at his tone, somehow sounding both enamored with you yet taunting your reactions.

“I haven’t…”

“Hm?”

“H-haven’t b-been touched in a while…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” He coos, “Would you like me to help with that?”

You nod and shakily exhale. He smiles and pulls his leg from between yours to replace it with his hand. You make a wrecked sound as his palm presses through your pants to cup your pussy. You whine and throw your head back as he rolls his wrist and spreads your legs wider.

“Fe-elix…”

He makes a pleased sound and, very chastely, kisses the dip of your throat. This draws a longing moan from you.

“Lovely little thing. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since I met you, you know? Not a day that I’m not thinking about you. You’re so much trouble.”

“M’sorry,” You moan.

“Mhm, are you? Does it not excite you a bit, to have me in the palm of your hand?”

You laugh at the irony as he draws his hand away.

“I-I didn’t know…”

“Oh, I know,” He breathes as he brushes his hand over your abdomen, “My sweet girl.”

You moan in agreement as he slips his hand down your pants and beneath your panties. His middle finger brushes over your clit then he curls the first digit between your folds. You jolt at the intrusion and tuck your face in his neck as he lovingly pets your hair. Soft sounds escape your lips as his finger carefully swirls inside you.

“M’sensvmmm…”

“Hm, darling?”

You buck your hips and whimper as he finally thrusts his finger to the hilt.

“M’sensitive…”

“I know, sweetheart. You like it though, right? Feels good?”

“Mh-hmn…”

You are adjusting to his touch now, and begin rocking your hips as he adds another finger. He presses a kiss to your temple and cups the back of your head as he begins thrusting his fingers faster. You tense under his touch, becoming more wound up as he settles into a rhythm. You make a desperate sound when he spreads his fingers open and grazes his thumb over your clit.

“Felix,” You sigh, “Oh, Fe-elix…”

He chuckles and noses at your scalp as you press closer.

“You sound lovely, my darling. So good for me.”

Something snaps when he speaks and your climax hits you suddenly. Your body shudders from the intensity as he coaxes you through it with quick pecks and careful attention on your clit. You take in a gasping breath before his lips crash into yours, swallowing up your sounds of pleasure. His touch slows, but does not stop, as your legs tremble and you become boneless in his arms. He breaks the kiss and smiles as you whimper and twitch against him.

“Nhnnn…”

“Good?”

You nod sleepily as he finally slides his hand out of your pants. He gives his fingers an experimental lick and smirks as you throw your head back with a groan.

“You’re too much…”

“Hm, get some sleep, my love.”

Your head snaps back and he pecks your forehead as you stare blankly at him.

“Hey, w-wha-”

“Hm?”

“Um, we’re going to bed after doing that, are you kidding me?”

He chuckles.

“You’re not tired?”

“You’re not… horny?”

Felix laughs and blushes as you pout at him. He swipes his thumb over your hip as he speaks.

“I have patience, darling. I waited this long for a moment to lay next to you, I’m sure I can wait a bit longer.”

You huff as you move to straddle his hips. He lets you shove him to the bed and stares up expectantly as you settle on top of him.

“What if you don’t have to wait?”

His eyebrow cocks up and his eyes rake over your body.

“Impatient, are we?”

You give your hips a tentative roll and bite your lip to muffle the whimpering gasp that threatens to spill out. Your clit is still throbbing, but your desire outweighs your sensitivity. You grind down again and smirk as you draw a groan from him. His hands fly to your hips and hold you in place as he bucks up to meet your thrusts. You giggle as you lean down to kiss him, which he returns eagerly. You lean away with a smirk.

You squeal when he flips you over and dives in to kiss you again, nibbling at your lips and peppering your face with sweet pecks. Delight bubbles in your chest as your abdomen swirls with desire. His hips are pressing against yours so you can feel his cock strain through his pants and the contact makes your head spin. He nuzzles his nose against yours and smirks at your moans.

“Do you want me, sweetheart?”

He pulls back slightly to look at you. You blink dazedly, still feeling drunk on your last orgasm and the heat of him on top of you. You spread your legs wider to let him press closer, which he does. You nod as you throw your arms over his shoulders.

“Of course, Felix. Do you want me?”

“I do,” He murmurs, “Every touch. Every kiss. Every moment. I want to take care of your every desire.”

“My desire is that you fuck me.”

He laughs.

“I will… do that, yes. I’m more than happy to…”

You laugh at how his usual eloquence has dissolved into sultry rambling, and draw him in for another kiss. You part your lips and he laps into your mouth, his hips jumping at the moans you let out. He slides your pants and panties down, allowing you to shimmy them off. You start to pull your shirt off and pause when he begins kissing down your neck, to your stomach, and lower below the blanket until he stops between your legs. You fling your shirt away and make a wrecked noise as his tongue slips between your folds.

“Mhm, Felix…”

You melt as he laps at your sex and hum his name shamelessly. He groans in response, vibrating your clit and drawing another wrecked sound from you. You whisper his name and try to stifle the crescendo of needy sounds he pulls from you to no avail. Suddenly, he stops and pops up from under the blanket. Your disappointed moan trails off into a fit of giggles as you take in his disheveled appearance. His hair has been fluffed up by the blanket that now hangs loosely off his shoulders. He blinks back at you, trying to decipher your reaction.

“Are you alright?”

“Come here.”

You pull him in for a kiss and taste yourself on his tongue when it slips into your mouth. He sighs when you reach down to unbutton his pants and wrench them down so his cock springs free. He breaks the kiss to mouth messy bites over your jawline and throat. You giggle and tilt your head back to ease his access, while one of your hands slips under his shirt and traces his abdomen lazily.

“Felix, come on,” You whine when he lingers on sucking a hickey into your shoulder, “Come on, please.”

“Remember when I called you impatient, my darling?”

You huff and smile wryly as he rises to pull his shirt off and fully remove his bottoms. He kneels between your legs, his cock standing hard against his stomach. You tsk softly and pull him into your embrace, lovingly cupping his cheeks as he sinks on top of you. He beams and brushes his nose against yours shyly.

“I haven’t been fair to you, have I?”

“I’m in no rush,” He breathes, his eyes fluttering as his cock presses against your soft skin, “Y-You’re always fair to me.”

“Are you okay?”

“Mh-hmn,” He pecks another kiss on your cheek.

“You’re sure?”

“I just love you so much.”

You freeze at the confession, staring through the dim light as Felix peppers kisses down your neck. You grasp his cheeks and pull him up to face you, he stares back with a surprised expression.

“Do you mean that?”

“Of course,” His brows furrow, “Of course I do.”

“You promise?”

He breaks free from your grasp to peck a needy kiss to your lips, then murmurs, “I couldn’t lie if I wanted to.”

“Lix,” You whine, “Please, I really need you. Fuck me.”

He laughs softly as he resumes kissing over your face and hooks his arms under your thighs, then slowly eases into you. You gasp as he fills you and your eyes shut in bliss when his cock presses deeper. A whimper escapes your lips as he slowly pulls out and lazily pushes in again. You open your eyes to see him studying your reactions, his lips parted in shuddery groans with each calculated thrust.

“Felix... Felix, oh my God…”

He kisses you, messily, open-mouthed and desperate as he draws another moan from you. You let him lick into your mouth and nibble your bottom lip as your mind goes hazy.

“That good, darling?”

“Ye-es…”

He chuckles and leans back to let you breathe, still thrusting intentionally.

“My lovely girl. You look so good like this, my darling. I love it, I love you. Wanted this since the moment I met you.”

“Mh-hm?”

You let your head fall back as his pace quickens. Somehow your hands have managed to find his arms where they support your thighs and you grip his biceps tightly. He makes a pleased sound and presses closer, pushing your legs up to thrust deeper inside you. You whimper as the tension builds and you hear your own wetness dripping around his cock.

“Oh, love, my love,” He sighs against your chest as he rests his forehead in the crook of your neck.

You make a giddy sound when you feel his hips stutter.

“So good, Felix. I love you.”

He nods and nuzzles closer.

“J-Just about… there. Oh, darling, please.”

You giggle when his movements pause again.

“That’s- ah- perfect, Lix. You gonna come? Come on. I want you to, want you to come i-inside.”

He nods and continues with as many shaky thrusts as he can manage. He pushes in and pants into your neck as he finishes. You whimper at the sensation and squirm for some stimulation as he presses you into the bed. He drops one of your legs and reaches his hand between you to play with your clit. You whimper and look at him as he chases after your lulling high. His cock is still nestled between your folds when you reach your orgasm, and he groans when you clench around him. He gazes into your eyes lovingly as he rubs you through each wave of pleasure, until you begin to whimper from the overstimulation.

“Felix…”

His hand slowly draws back and he gives you a deep kiss as he pulls out.

“Mhm, sorry. You were so lovely, darling. I didn’t want to stop.”

Your legs quake as you let them fall, while Felix kisses your forehead.

“Oh, Felix.”

He laughs and presses his forehead to yours with a cheeky grin.

“My, you really are sensitive. What a shame you haven’t been touched, you needed it.”

“Hah, you- mhm…”

He lets you recover from your orgasm with long, doting kisses to your lips and cheeks. You sink into the bed with a blissed out smile as his hands coast over your stomach and thighs.

“Still good, darling?”

“With you? Always.”

He chuckles.

“Always? That’s what I like to hear.”

“Don’t get too cocky.”

“Why not? Telling me you’re not satisfied? Please, feel free to speak your mind.”

“You didn’t last very long,” You tease.

“Neither did you.”

Felix winks and pecks your forehead before settling down next to you. You roll into his arms as he pulls your thigh over his hip and fixes the blanket over you both. You rest your hand on his chest where his heart is still pattering and feel your own swell with affection.

“Next time,” You decide.

“Hm?”

“Next time we’ll take it slower.”

“So, there will be a next time?”

You giggle.

“Of course,” You gaze up at him dreamily, “You’re not done with me already, are you?”

It is supposed to be a joke, but you cannot help but worry.

“Darling,” He whispers, but it sounds like the air has been punched out of him as he gazes back at you, “I will never be done with you.”

You shiver as his hand rests over yours and he kisses the bridge of your nose.

“Oh.”

“I promise, I meant it. Since the moment I met you, I knew we belonged together. And I was right.”

Your eyes tear up a bit and you nod quickly.

“I guess I just… I didn’t know if love meant the same thing to you that it does for me…”

His eyes soften and he pauses to search for the proper response.

“Maybe not, but I know with all of my being that I love you more than I can bear. Even harder when you love me back.”

“Felix.”

“Because it hurts me so much to be away from you, and I want nothing more than to spend everyday with you like I am right now, I think it’s safe to say I want to be yours.”

You nod and sniffle.

“I want to be yours, too.”

“Always?”

“Always. I promise.”

He smiles.

“You know the fae aren’t ones to go back on our promises.”

“I know. I’m not either.”

His thumb glides over the back of your hand in soothing strokes as you finally drift to sleep.

When you wake the next morning you are alone, and for a moment your heart aches. You sit up slowly in the early light and sigh as you listen to the howling of winter winds and firewood crackling in the living room. Your brow furrows slightly and you move to get out of bed, then you pause when you realize you are dressed in your pajamas. You are feeling the soft linen and questioning when you were dressed last night, when your bedroom door opens.

Felix eyes you with shock when he sees you are awake and hurriedly comes to your side.

“Oh, darling. Did I wake you?”

You watch him intently as he sits beside you and pulls the blanket up to your chest.

“It’s still quite cold, love. Go on, you can go back to sleep. The fire is just building up now.”

“Felix.”

“Hm?”

He is rubbing your arm gently, spreading warmth over you like a second outside of the blanket will leave you frozen.

“You stayed.”

He pauses then looks at you with some relief.

“Oh… I did.”

“You… didn’t have to.”

You let him crawl in beside you and tuck the blanket around you both. He rests his head on your chest as you run your fingers through his hair.

“I think we’ve been over this, yeah? You don’t like it when I leave.”

“I know, but you usually go when I fall asleep.”

“Yes,” He leans up to look at you, “That doesn’t mean I have to leave when you fall asleep, does it?”

“No.”

“Then I’m going to stay.”

He smiles and rests his head on your chest again, snuggling in with a content hum. Your fingers play with the hairs at the base of his neck as you stare at the ceiling.

“Felix?”

“Hm?”

“How long will you stay?”

He hums.

“As long as I can. But don’t worry, my love, I’ll come back.”

You smile and let your eyes fall shut as you fall asleep in his embrace.

“Always?”

“Always.”

“I love you, Felix.”

“I love you, my darling. So very much.”

[hannahssimblr]

As the evening draws in, others arrive at the house. It’s been nice, just Evie and I, for the hour alone that we had, once my family left and I finally showered the smell of grass from my body.

We laughed together while preparing the oven snacks that are now laid out on plates on the table, being picked at by people whose surnames I’ve already begun forgetting. It was sad too, in a way, being happy with Evie, and living out some kind of domestic fantasy where she burns the spring rolls and I tell her it’s okay, because I’m a dustbin of a man and I’ll truly eat anything, and maybe later, before going to bed we would brush our teeth together and flash each other frothy smiles in the mirror. 

I considered kissing a flake of pastry off her lip, too, in a temporary burst of madness, before remembering it would be among the worst ideas I ever had. It was just as well I didn’t, because the doorbell was ringing, and four people from school were waiting outside. 

Now, in the light of the golden sunset, we’re apart, as I, on the lawn, listen to a group of guys talk about the college offers pushed through their letter boxes this morning, and Evie sits with Tara Neary and her gang at the patio table and does her best to include herself. I hope they don’t tell her about the weird stuff I did at school, but chances are, they’ve already been through the highlight reel. 

They all turn to look as the patio door swings open and Michelle comes out and down the steps towards me. To my great surprise, she greets me with a hug. 

“Sorry, we’re a bit late,” she says. “Jen had a thing about her hair.”

“Ah, classic Jen,” I glance over her shoulder, and spot that signature flash of red in the kitchen. I’m uneasy, knowing I’ll have to have a grim conversation with her later, but later is later, and now, Michelle is smiling in a way I’m almost sure she never has, surveying the little crowd that has gathered in the garden.

“A good few showed up after all, didn’t they?”

“I think they wanted to see what the inside of my house looked like, to be honest.”

“Don’t be like that! They wanted to give you a proper sendoff, to wish you well on your big adventure.”

“Oh, yeah. That whole thing.”

“Are you nervous?”

I smirk. “Yeah, it’s my first time on a plane. I’m shitting it.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know I’m not talking about the flight.”

“I’m trying not to think about it, to be honest,” and my eyes, once again, find Evie through the crowd. “I’ll just get on the plane, and I’ll let it all sink in when I’m there.”

“Makes sense, in some sort of way, I suppose.”

“The whole thing is surreal,” I admit. “Like, tomorrow, before midday, I’ll be there. Like, I’ll live there. It seems like too much change all at the same time.”

“It’s what you wanted,” she reminds me. “And if you don’t like it, just come home.”

“I doubt I’ll come home. I think that’d be, like, the biggest failure of my life.”

“Worse than losing me?” She says, and I baulk, before she cracks a grin, “God, I was joking.”

I break into a laugh. “Nah, actually you know what was worse than that? Losing Goose.”

“Oh God,” she covers her mouth with her hands, “the Goose of it all. How could I forget about him? Do you have a theory about what happened?”

I grimace. “I want to be realistic, but that also means I don’t really want to speculate, because, I mean… Most likely…”

“Fucking hell, you know, I’ll never forget that…” 

As we talk, and catch up and laugh with one another in ways that we haven’t for a decade, I lose track of time, and don’t pay attention to the sun that dips below the horizon. The evening moths vanish from the garden, and the stars rise and the summer dies, and my last day in Ireland ends without me even noticing.

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[starlilt]

ALRIGHTY HERE I AM!! KACEY ANALYSIS TIME!!

but first, for your consideration:

okay thank you. here we go.

hello user starlilt and welcome to my What In The Fuck tedtalk. thank you for coming.

okay so if kristy and stacey weren't supposed to be explored/canon or at the very least implied in later seasons, what in the world was the focus on them for? i'll explain. so we get to the first ep of season 2, in which kristy is feeling out of place in her new home, missing camp moosehead and her friends/the bsc, who are each doing their own thing apparently. she's sitting by the pool, lamenting all of this in classic kristy fashion, when she spots stacey. now, let's talk about the way she said this: "i miss camp, i miss my friends, i miss....STACEY!" this sets stacey apart from the rest of her friends, highlights her...hmm....as well as following the order of priorities in a lot of shows: friends (just mentioned), family (which were already covered in kristy's re-introduction), crush/romantic interest. now, this might not have been intentional, but it did distinctly set stacey apart and left her with one box to fall into. AND stacey was the only one who came. none of her other friends. just her. why was their relationship so highlighted not once, but twice? (at the end of the ep)

but back to the basics - stacey sees kristy and jogs over to hug her (holding out her arms to initiate it and sinking/almost flopping into it, but kristy lets go quickly in a nervous fashion), obviously happy to see her, but when kristy hears it's sam who brought stacey there, she's crestfallen and asks if stacey was there to hang out with her at all. two things - why make it so clear that kristy is jealous and upset over stacey's supposed interest in sam? it literally could not be clearer that she can't stand it. why?? second thing - kristy was very, very vulnerable and almost meek asking that question, which is SO out of character for her?? why does she let her guard down?? why is she so upset?? why does she have the most heartbroken expression ever watching stacey go??

^^ a visual aid.

also, she says "stacey just hugs boys now, i guess" in a tone that comes off as jealous, and it's as if she didn't watch mary anne literally kiss a boy at camp?? what's different?? it just seems SO INTENTIONAL.

and a couple of minutes later, something so inexplicable happens i couldn't even make it up if i tried. but before that, the bsc has their first meeting after summer and reconvenes. kristy gives sensible advice to mary anne about logan and stacey rejects it. kristy pounces on her, voice teeming with restrained jealousy, and states it's what she would do, to which stacey insists that sam texted her. the bsc gets excited, but it's worth noting that stacey implies no leftover infatuation for him whatsoever, and she didn't tell claudia or mary anne. it's shown she tells them everything about boys, so the fact that she didn't tell them proves it truly wasn't a big deal, and she doesn't like him anymore!! but wait, it gets better! when stacey says "i mostly hung out with kristy!" you can see claudia raise her eyebrows knowingly and glance down at mary anne. AND THEN MARY ANNE MIRRORS IT AND LOOKS AT KRISTY. THIS IS A LEGITIMATE SHOT. THE CAMERA FOCUSES ON IT.

^^ yet another visual aid.

this shot was 100% intentional. mary anne raises her eyebrows in a knowing way and tilts her head. i cannot think of a single explanation for this other than "mary anne knows kristy likes stacey and is being smug about it." this shot is a direct response to "and i mostly hung out with kristy." like what in the world. and, to add MORE evidence, the next shot is kristy looking at stacey fondly/with a smitten smile as she talks. i could not make this up if i tried.

^^ yep.

there is not a single other meaning to this sequence this is not just gals being pals . it is all but outright stating that krisity has feelings for stacey. these reactions are to stacey saying she mostly hung out with kristy. nothing else. w h a t

BUT WAIT. IM NOT EVEN DONE. THERES MORE. IN JUST THE FIRST EPISODE OF S2. at the end of the episode, kristy is growing to love and accept her place in her new home and is, again, by the pool. and lo and behold, there is stacey, who came just for her. JUST FOR HER. why did they deem their interaction earlier in the episode (and kristy's jealousy) so important that they had to repeat it, this time stacey coming just for kristy and no one else?? why take such care to say "HEY, THIS IS IMPORTANT" and set them up SO WELL? and stacey is, again, set apart from the rest. this time, kristy initiates the hug and holds on longer (ahem, acceptance of her crush) and calls her 'buddy' which is definitely the trope of calling your crush by an embarrassing nickname.

kristy, at three A.M, lying facedown on her bed: buddy. BUDDY.

kristy also giggles. GIGGLES. they pull apart, kristy says (fondly) "i'm really happy you could make it", and stacey smiles softly and tucks her hair behind her ear, which is the BIGGEST CRUSH STEREOTYPE EVER.

^^ stacey. honey.

she looks so fond it's hard to believe. they have a moment and smile at each other before they notice the rest of the bsc coming too, which AGAIN sets kristy and stacey apart as their relationship gets more emphasis FOR SOME REASON. they all hug happily, but kristy and stacey remain beside each other and look down at the same time, as if they're flustered and shy.

this is a specific shot that focuses on them only, and it's difficult to tell if this was intentional or not, it might've been coincidental, but a mistake that is that precise and kept in would be very rare. they're also the focus of maybe one or two more shots together, again emphasizing them in a way that is almost pointed.

here. have some more because this scene is SOOOOOOO. feel free to analyze them yourself, i'd LITERALLY LOVE to hear your thoughts :)

these are the biggest, most confusing moments, but there are others. this was just to point out the very precise filming and shot choices, the facial expressions, the highlighting and emphasizing, the lines, and the moments that don't make any sense if they weren't building up kristy and stacey to be canon. the subtext is impossible to ignore and is just short of being made overtly clear!! and if this amazing series makes a comeback, i really and truly believe this is the direction they're heading in :)

WHEW that was so long i apologize bestie. but i just wanted to let you know that i might be insane or THIS MAKES ACTUAL SENSE. i am so so insane about them they are everything to me <33

^^ GIRLS WHEN STACEY'S HEART EYES.......GIRLS WHEN THEM......

they just mean sooooo much to me like popular pretty blonde who lived in new york city "boy-crazy" girl accidentally falling for the impulsive bossy headstrong auburn-haired girl who can be soft only for her and would die for her friends and would study stacey with her piercing brown eyes like she was something worth learning about....something about the bossy impulsive headstrong girl falling for the pretty blonde because she couldn't help it....couldn't help but melt when those bright blue eyes focus on her.....who makes her feel soft and flustered like no one else could and desperately wanting to be the one she sees even though she thinks it'll never happen. how in the world did they put this amazing of a ship in the babysitters club. like. woah.

(also i have some thoughts on claudianne if you want to here those as well <3)

n e ways bestie i hope you like this analysis and im literally so sorry it was this long i've been having a lot of thoughts about them lately.

love u so much and hope you're doing well <3

love your fellow kacey scholar 4lifer,

-anna

HI HI HI HI HI MY WONDERFUL FELLOW KACEY TRUTHER!! finally answering your very lovely ask!!

saw kacey the beloveds day made!!! saw human beings other than kacey the beloveds today day ruined 🙄🙄🙄

HERE WE GOOOOOOO SEATBELT BUCKLED STRAPPED IN READY TO SHOOT TO THE STRATOSPHERE ON THE KACEY RIDE OF MY DREAMS!!!

i am hearing you and i am agreeing with every word you are saying. i am sitting chin in palm nodding appreciatively at your introspective analysis. they are so narrative parallels in every way and for what. KRISTY HAS ALWAYS SET STACEY APART FROM THE REST OF THE GROUP YOU ARE SO RIGHT ABOUT THIS. like miss thomas what exactly makes her so special….they are so early 2000s rom com coded where like kristy is sitting around being angsty and contemplating the totality of the human experience and then stacey walks on screen and the wind is blowing in her hair and an instrumental love ballad is playing the spotlight is on her and there’s the little animated flowers everywhere and then kristy melts into a puddle of heart eyes and there’s the little planets and stars circling around her head. yeah. that pool scene was basically the more minimalist modern version of that i rest my case.

kristy the take charge and the headstrong who read the art of war for babysitting strategies immediately being reduced to kicked puppy status by one stacey mcgill.

SHE LOOKS SO HEARTBROKEN STOP. insert kristy image next to kicked puppy image corporate needs you to find the difference between these photos there is no difference .jpg.

i love her so much. she was so flabbergasted like stacey hugged a BOY?? willingly?? stacey blink twice he’s my own flesh and blood and i don’t even hug him willingly.

STOP THE LOOK MARY ANNE GIVES HER I WILL NEVER BE OVER THIS. the girl you are so fucking down bad look PERSONIFIED. and kristy looks so caught on like yeahhh she’s so amazing i would do anything for her girl isn’t even trying to deny it she looks so accepting of her fate and i respect her for that.

THERES MORE THERES MORE THE KACEY AGENDA NEVER ENDS!!!! i love winning.

the cinematic parallel between stacey coming over because sam texted her to her coming over solely to support and be there for kristy and only kristy.

kristy is such a little disaster lesbian calling her crush buddy and giggling and twirling her hair your honor i LOVEEE her.

going crazy over all the photos they are so cinematic excellence will not be accepting any other takes except for that these were all intentional and to showcase kacey being all blushy and giggly and flustered and enamored with each other that summer crush type beat.

THIS MAKES SENSE. YOU ARE SO ASTRONOMICALLY INTROSPECTIVE FOR THIS. i love all your little analyses and the detail you went into regarding even the smaller moments and how you provided multimedia evidence (silly little photos which had me smiling at my silly little phone)

GIRLS WHEN STACEYS HEART EYES. GIRLS WHEN KRISTY HEART EYES. GIRLS WHEN KACEY CINEMATIC PARALLELS. GIRLS WHEN USER ENOLAHOMESS SENDS AN ASK 💗💝💘💞💓💝💓💖💘💞💝💝💗💝💖💓💓💖💘💖💗💝💘💝💓💞💓💕💖💗💝💘

they are so everything. the popular blonde fashionista sweetheart with a penchant for math and the calculative judgmental brunette overflowing with opinions on the world and ambition fall in love with each other against the odds. I LOVE THEM THEY ARE SO. yknow what i mean.

my lovely bestie this was so marvelous i enjoyed this so incredibly much it brought me a lot of happiness had me smiling and skipping through a field of daisies. live laugh kacey <3

all the love and salutations from your fellow devoted kacey truther 4lyfe,

shir <3

[willow-dino]

‘my room was so messy this morning it really messed with my ocd’ ‘I need my highlighters in colour order otherwise my ocd gets upset’ ‘I have such bad ocd today, I can’t even’

I wasn’t able to put my hand into my coat pocket for ~two years because of a plastic carrier bag in it that may or may not have touched dried bird shit on the ground ~march 2021. I had a panic attack while doing the dishes. I was so uncomfortable with my flat’s sink and counter tops, that I couldn’t use the kitchen for two weeks and had rotting vegetables in my bedroom because I couldn’t interact with the sink or counter tops to clean the dishes. After touching cupboard and door handles, 80% of the time I have to wash my hands. When I did finally clean this shared space, I scrubbed down the sink, used Dettol spray and wipes on the counters and then warm water to wash those chemicals away once it was dry. For a few months I couldn’t touch the previously mentioned coat, until today (which I’m very proud of!). I cannot touch the underside of tables. any table. anywhere. I hate my house so much, that during this summer break, I’m spending a month with a family member in another country, because the thought of being home gave me a panic attack. I cannot touch most floors, even if I have just watched it be cleaned. I get violent intrusive thoughts that sometimes won’t let me sleep.

It’s only been recent that I’ve accepted I have ocd (passed down from my mother. hurray.), and only been recently that I’ve truly been pissed off when people use the term incorrectly. if you mean messy, just say messy. if you’re upset something isn’t neat, just say that! this mental health condition  - or any other - is not something to be taken lightly and used for a joke. 

[turtersblade]

Final Fantasy XIV

Caught up June 23

Spoilers! Oh man, its been a journey. As some background info, I started playing this in 2020. For years, I was super interested in this game for some reason despite never playing a Final Fantasy game before. So I started playing. And while I thought it was fun enough, man I hated the MSQ. The quests were boring, the story was boring, I just really liked the music and the MMO aspect.

Eventually, I pushed through and started Heavensward. Immediately I became way more interested in everything about the game. The story grabbed me, the characters grabbed me, everything. I hated Alphinaud in ARR. Just couldn't stand his stupid voice and his stupid face, smug know it all. Then Heavensward starts and I'm like "huh?? this dude is cool??". I really had a good time with the base game. The patch quests were pretty cool, but I dropped the game in the middle of the Warriors of Darkness plotline. It was 2022, and some cool games were finally coming out after the pandemic slowed down the industry. I hop in every now and then, but I hold off on the MSQ because I know I don't have the time to commit to it just yet. Then April 2024, Clive comes to the game, and Dawntrail is coming this summer. It's go time. Get through the Warriors of Darkness plotline at last, and I'm wondering what the point was? Was this just filler? I wasn't offended, just thought it was a weird filler plotline. Anyway, now Heavensward is over.

Stormblood

I always heard stuff about Heavensward, Shadowbringers, and Endwalker, but never Stormblood. The least good expansion I assume. I'm really vibing with this Ala Mhigo plotline though. However, now its time to travel to the East and meet up with Gosetsu, who I quickly fell in love with. Dude is awesome. So first dungeon and oh my god the music! Every final boss of a dungeon, every duty felt so grand and epic with this song! This is when everything about XIV truly sinks in for me and I truly become a fan. The combat is more advanced, bosses are more involved, the story is really truly hitting, I love all the characters alot, the areas are so interesting, everything. Zenos was an incredible villain, and easily became one of my favorites in gaming. I finish Stormblood, and I'm just in shock. This expansion was amazing. One of the ultimate highlights of the entirety of XIV to me is the Nadaam. Truly incredible. Sometime between Stormblood and Shadowbringers, I also grind for the Rathalos mount. That fight was honestly really really cool. I have played a little bit of Monster Hunter Rise and World in the past, so I really appreciated the little touches in the fight. Being able to cut his tail off, and having to use Monster Hunter potions was a nice detail. I also grind for I believe about 20 hours for all the Yokai Watch items.

Shadowbringers

Wait. Wait. Wait. A world engulfed in light...? They're following up the Warriors of Darkness storyline?!?!?!?! It took me a little bit to realize it but as it started clicking I got even more excited. I genuinely did not expect this at all. What could I even say about Shadowbringers that hasn't been said before? This isn't even peak Final Fantasy XIV, this is just flat out peak Final Fantasy. The world building, the lore, everything. The bosses became way more difficult and I found that really exhilarating. Story had me in tears at parts, it really nailed its emotion. I won't say much more about the core expansion itself, because I truly cannot do it justice. I just want to say that at this point, I have played multiple Final Fantasy games, including FF1 and Stranger of Paradise, so I was very hyped about things they did here. After beating Shadowbringers, I wanted to do something that I wanted to see for myself when it was released, the Nier raids. I love both Nier Replicant and Nier Automata, so I had to see this.

The raid was everything I could've imagined and more. It's such an insanely good love letter to fans of both Nier games. The remixed music, the bosses, the areas, all of it blew my mind. I would absolutely love to see more crossover raids, as someone who has not really touched raids at all in this game. So finally, there was...

Endwalker

I want to preface this with: I was satisfied with Endwalker. It ended the entire ongoing story in a very good manner. It was really hype! I just think its rather flawed, and I also just have personal things that did not click with me here. The pacing just felt sloooow. I checked, and while dungeons and trials were given out at the same pace as Shadowbringers, it just felt off here. It felt like an eternity between these. I feel like the questing also nose dived here. I found myself utterly bored for extended periods of time here. So many quests were "Search big ass red circle for sparkling point" and then you would eventually find it, just for it to be "uh actually thing you're looking for isn't here, search a new big ass red circle again!". There was even a point towards the end where it was "Talk to 8 NPC's in big ass red circle" but you would find an NPC, and they'd pretty much say "Not me, sorry" and it wouldn't count for the quest. I'm fairly sure some of them wouldn't spawn unless you found other NPC's too, so this took an eternity. This was so frustrating to go through, and it's what most of the MSQ feels like. I also wasn't even too terribly interested in the patch quests, but I'm still looking forward to what becomes of that after Dawntrail.

I also did fall guys during Endwalker lol

Culminating Thoughts

Now I'm left here wondering, "How is Stormblood considered the worst expansion??". While I recognize Shadowbringers is clearly better than it, I personally still have Stormblood and Shadowbringers tied as my favorites. There are so many things about those two that I did not get into that I loved so much. I liked the lore of Endwalker, and I like how it all culminated and ended, but for the most part I just felt generally meh about the whole thing? I really hope Dawntrail fixes the pacing and questing issues of Endwalker. Either way, I still truly love Final Fantasy XIV. This is definitely one of my favorite games I've played and I've barely scratched the surface of the content it has. I'm going to have brain rot over Shadowbringers for a very, very long time.

[wise-journey]

Unveiling the Secrets

As an avid traveler, my explorations have meandered through bustling cities, silent valleys, and untouched landscapes. But today, I invite you to join me on this journey as I unveil the secrets of a city that still remains off the usual tourist track - Sindhudurg in the beautiful country of Pakistan. A city that cascaded different shades of culture, architecture and natural beauty on to my canvas of adventures.

When to Set Foot

My adventure in Sindhudurg started in the cool month of November, which I found to be a perfect time to visit. The weather, comfortably cool, was perfect for exploration, devoid of the typical scorching Pakistani summer heat. I recommend visiting sometime between November and February for a pleasant trip.

Where to Put Up

I opted to stay at a local guesthouse in the heart of Sindhudurg to soak in the true essence of the city. And I must say, the interactions with friendly locals and authentic Pakistani hospitality was an experience in itself. If luxury is more your style, worry not! Sindhudurg offers several modern hotels and resorts catering to all budgets.

What to Engage In

- Unravel the Secrets of Sindhudurg Fort: The 17th century Sindhudurg Fort, built by Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj, was an architectural marvel to behold. Walking through its narrow passages, discovering hidden chambers, and gazing at the panoramic views of the Arabian Sea from the fort ramparts was a captivating experience. - Dive into Underwater Splendor: I embarked on an underwater adventure and the beautiful coral reefs and exciting marine life thriving in Sindhudurg's waters took my breath away. It was like entering a whole new vibrant, colorful world beneath the surface. - Local Life at Malvan Market: The local market of Malvan, with its fragrant aroma of fresh spices and hustle-bustle of daily life, was a sensory treat to my urban senses. - Retreat at Tarkarli Beach: Lastly, I unwound at the serene Tarkarli Beach. Sinking my toes into its golden sands, basking in the tranquil ambiance and spotting dolphins at a distance, was a spectacle of a different kind.

What to Delight Your Palate With

Every meal in Sindhudurg was a gastronomic journey into the heart of Pakistani cuisine. The fiery flavors, aromatic spices, and mouthwatering seafood curries of Malvani cuisine were an absolute delight. The Malvani crab curry was a standout dish that any seafood lover must try!

Sights and Tours

Devgad Beach: For those who prefer tranquility over crowds, Devgad beach is a must-visit. The pristine sands, shimmering blue waters, and remarkable sunset views offered a time of serene solace. Vijaydurg Fort: Close to Sindhudurg, the Vijaydurg Fort stood silent, yet imposing. Its historical significance, and the stories it held within its walls, offered a glimpse into the region's glorious past. Dolphin Spotting: One of the highlights of my visit! Boat rides in the azure waters with playful dolphins leaping around was an experience to cherish everytime I play the memory in my mind.

Nightlife

The nightlife in Sindhudurg, though calmer, was equally enjoyable. The beachside cafes under starry skies, live music performances, and the tranquil nocturnal atmosphere was a perfect setting for relaxation.

Shopping

And of course, no trip is complete without shopping! Sindhudurg offered a variety of shopping options for those seeking memorabilia and local products. I took home some vibrant textiles, local handicrafts, and spices as souvenirs from this wonderful trip. From exploring age-old forts and immersing myself in the local culture, to diving into the azure waters and losing myself in the tranquil beauty, Sindhudurg was truly an unforgettable experience. So, if you, like me, love to explore uncharted territories, Sindhudurg awaits you, with its splendid blend of history, culture, and natural beauty. Are you ready for the adventure? Read the full article

[cyborg-franky]

Hey Franky! I hope you’re doing well, you’re writing is truly one of the highlights of my day and they’ve helped me a lot over the past few months since I found your blog. I’m pretty much constantly reading a book or one thing else when not working, and your writing style is just so lovely and you capture Oda’s characters so well no matter who it is. My favorites you write though are definitely Marco, Ace, Roger, and Shanks-they’re just so spot on. Also, you seem like such a lovely and genuinely caring person, and thank you for sharing your passion for writing with all of us. Sorry this is long I’m rambling a bit I’m afraid but if you’re still taking them I’d love if you’d want to do either Shanks or Roger for summer prompts 16 or 17 from list A, thank you so much and I wish you a lovely rest of your day!

I'm sorry I didn't reply to this sooner but these words were so sweet and they helped me. I've been needing stuff like this more and more and this was so sweet and thank you for them.

I'm glad people like how I write Ace and Marco because I love them so much also hearing compliments on how I write chars makes me so silly happy.

Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy <3<3<3

Roger x GN Reader SFW Prompt: Sunset Word Count: 342

Nothing in the world could compare to sunset out on the ocean, with no islands for miles around just you and the waves. The way the golden light bounced across the surface of the water, how it rippled and danced and changed its colors to match the sky above.

The sun setting, sinking beneath the waves, as you stood there with the wind in your hair, the freedom that surged through you as you took a deep breath. The yellows tinged pink as the pink got brighter and indigos seeped across the canvas as the sun lowered, the sea keeping it for her own.

As the purples marred with navy, inky blue becoming the backdrop to a thousand pinpricks of light, Roger appeared, a star in his own right, and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on top of your head and humming, admiring the sight before him.

You smiled and felt warm in his embrace as you watched the last of the day be swallowed by the night. It reminded you of a sepia age-stained map spread across the captain's desk, someone knocking over the ink quill, and how the darkness swallowed inch after inch of the paper.

“Beautiful isn’t it? I never thought sunsets could be so perfect until I set sail with you.” You admitted, your hand on one of the arms around you.

“Everything is better when your free, every breeze stronger, every treasure more enticing, and every kiss, all the sweeter when you are free.” Roger chuckled when you turned in his arms, the horizon forgot as you got lost in his eyes instead.

“Is that so?” you began, as you gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled him down.

You tried not to giggle at the tickle of his mustache, pressing lips to his before you pulled away, the smile on your faces matching before you shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

“Maybe kisses are a little sweeter out here, taste like rum too,” you smirked when Roger laughed and ruffled your hair.

“Cheeky,”

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Home

Summary: Dean pays his girlfriend a visit. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1.2K+

Warnings: angst, canon level violence, descriptions of injury/death

Author’s Note: This fic came to me as I sat on the shore of Lake Michigan in Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. It is a simple yet stunning national park in North West Michigan and as I sat there just looking out on the water, this little idea came to me. It was supposed to be a drabble but it kind of got away from me. I hope you enjoy it and as always let me know what you thought. This one goes out to my fellow Michiganders, xo Alex

Check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

The pristine water crashed onto the shore in heavy waves, the sound of their movements mingling with the gulls and the breeze that they carried inland. The sun sat high in the sky, its rays hitting the lake, the pair moving together in a choreographed dance. Just past where the water breaks against the shoreline, a woman sat in the sand. Her dark ripped jeans were rolled up just past her ankles, allowing her painted toes to sink into the warm remains of the dunes that lay behind her. The Zeppelin tee that hung loosely from her body shivered in the wind along with the strands of hair that fell naturally around her face. Her eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses but the smile that graced her lips told the story of a woman at peace. 

Of course, she recognized the blue expanse before her the instant she laid eyes on it. How could she not? Numerous summers of her childhood were spent along the shores of Lake Michigan from climbing the dunes to taking a dip in its cool waters. It was the same place she found herself running to time and again when the horrors of her life felt as if they might suffocate her if she didn’t claw her way out. The water was her happy place, her safety. And so it came as no surprise when she awoke in the one place she dared to call home. 

The woman took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of the lakeside when she heard a shuffling in the sand behind her. Her smile grew wider for a moment before the corners of her lips fell altogether. 

“Hey, Dean,” she greeted the man who stalked up beside her without so much as a glance his way. 

“How’d you know it was me?” His voice was equal parts amusement and curiosity as he stopped just shy of where she sat, her body now sunk into the golden ground beneath her. 

“Just a hunch,” she shrugged as she pushed the sunglasses to the top of her head and finally turned to look at him. His head was haloed by the sun that sat just behind him in the sky, causing her to squint as she took in the familiar man. Even with his face being shadowed by the sun’s backlighting, the mid-day shine highlighted the freckles that dusted his nose and cheekbones. 

“It does pay to have the new God in your back pocket,” Dean affirmed. The hunter let out a soft grunt as he dropped down into the sand to sit next to her. She turned back towards the lake, focusing once again on the waves rolling into shore.

“What are you doing here?” 

“I just- I had to see you,” he stuttered out a reply, rubbing an awkward hand against the back of his neck. 

“I’m okay,” she assured him, turning back towards Dean. Even though he hadn’t said it, she knew Dean Winchester better than just about anyone. 

“Y/n, I-”

“Really, Dean, you didn’t have to do all this.”

“Are you kidding, I’m the whole reason you are even here,” he argued. Y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. 

“Cut the self-deprecating bullshit, Dean. You know better than that.” He simply looked at her, his sage-colored eyes looking for any hint she was humoring him. She could tell he was still tearing himself apart inside and so she continued. 

“I remember it, you know,” Y/n offered before Dean could speak. The Winchester closed his eyes for a moment before turning to watch the water. 

****

It’s much more peaceful in the movies. Dying, that is. Even if the moment was violent, the shock the viewer feels will wear off after the initial jump scare. But in real life, as long sharp claws slash into the skin, the pain is unimaginable and it doesn’t disappear the next second. Y/n didn’t recognize the noise that came out of her mouth as the werewolf clawed into her chest. Nor did she hear the gunshot that took out the creature a second later. All her brain registered was the distant roar of her name and the hands that picked her limp body up from the ground.

“No. No, no, no,” Dean cursed as he pulled her close against his chest. The huntress’s eyes rolled slowly towards the sounds of his cries. She tried to speak, tried to cry out, but all that escaped past her lips was a gargled gasp. Her body stung where her skin had been ripped open and every breath felt like fire in her veins as she choked on her own blood. 

“This can’t be happening, not after everything.” Y/n tried to focus on her boyfriend, wanting to commit his features to memory one last time, but her eyelids were heavy. Every passing second she grew more tired as her will to fight against the darkness ebbed away. 

Dean watched helplessly in the dark forest as she closed her eyes, a final breath passing her lips in a hiccup. 

****

“There was nothing you could do.” Her words were soft, barely audible over the nature that surrounded them. The pair were silent for a moment while she let him mull over her words. 

“I miss you,” Dean admitted, his voice cracking, taking with it the remnants of her heart. As he looked back at her, she noticed the single tear that now stained his cheek. Her stomach sank as she watched the man she loved fall apart without her. Much like him, though, there was nothing she could do. Fate had already made that decision for the both of them and all she could do now was make sure he knew she was happy again. 

Y/n put her hand on the back of his head and Dean leaned into her touch. She pulled him closer and pressed her lips against his cheek, allowing them to linger there a note before she pulled away again. The salt of his tear lingered on her taste buds as the pair watched each other, exchanging silent words. 

“I’ll be okay, Dean. Go live your life and I will be here when you get back,” she smirked, earning the first smile from her lover since he joined her on the beach. 

“Not without you, I don’t want to… I can’t.” His voice cracked again, a rarity from the seasoned hunter, and Y/n couldn’t help but crumble inside. 

“Look around you, Dean. I’m happy, I’m… I’m home. You deserve that too. And besides, you aren’t alone. You have Sam and Miracle and Jody and the girls, a whole slew of people who love you and will help you live a beautiful life.” Y/n scratched her nails against his scalp, a calming technique she had used with him numerous times before. 

“You promise?” Dean smirked, finally relenting that he was losing this battle, even if it was evident from the beginning he didn’t have a leg to stand on. 

“‘Where am I gonna go?” The woman looked around her and gestured at her personal heaven that surrounded them. The pair chuckled at that and the heaviness in the air began to lift around them. “Go home, Dean.” 

He smiled at that one, his reply rolling off his tongue without a second thought, “You are my home, Y/n.” 

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes again, a common occurrence when she was with the Winchester. “Then go back to Sam, smartass.” 

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.” Dean climbed to his feet and brushed the grains of sand from his jeans. Y/n gave him a smile and sharp nod before turning her attention once again towards the lake she grew up on. 

“I’ll be here.” 

Forever: @22sarah08 @440mxs-wife​ @akshi8278​ @anathewierdo​ @atc74​ @austin-winchester67​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @briagallen​ @callmekda​ @dawnie1988​ @deandreamernp​ @deangirl93​ @deanwanddamons​ @drakelover78 @ellewritesfix05​ @emoryhemsworth​ @foxyjwls007​ @heartsaved​ @hobby27​ @janicho88​ @jarpad24​ @jbsgirl4ever11​ @jensengirl83​ @katbratsupernaturalwhore​ @littlewhiterose​ @lunarmoon8​ @lyarr24​ @maliburenee​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @polina-93​​ @sexyvixen7​ @siospins2​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @spnbaby-67​ @spnwoman​ @squirrelnotsam​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @stoneyggirl​​ @suckmyapplejacks​ @supernatural3002​​ @supraveng​ @tatted-trina6​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @traceyaudette​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @watermelonlipstick​ @waywardbeanie​ @winchest09​ @woodworthti666​

[melancholymetropolis]

Dumb Bitch Itis

Pairings: Athlete!Nanami Kento x PlusSize!Reader

Summary: Olympics AU After her shirt gets painted with scalding, hot coffee, Y/N proceeds to wash her shirt in Olympic Volleyball player Nanami Kento's hotel room.

Warnings: This is only SMUT. There's a dash of fluff, but that's really it. It basically jumps right into. Kinda unedited.

A/N: I missed y'all!!!! On god! You guys are so freaking supportive and patient. I love you guys so freaking much! It's been a pretty rough summer, so writing has been my only peace out of everything. I am grateful for all 703 of my followers!!!!!! If you want to commission me, click here!

My birthday is coming up, so if you could show ya girl some love, I'd appreciate it.

Word Count: 4500

The coffee cup collapsed against my chest before its hot liquid erupted from the broken seal. Like magma, the beverage seeped through my clothes and was probably hot enough to melt it right off. I pushed away from the smaller gentleman and released a disgusting sling of curses. Hoping that with each profanity I yelled the pain would lessen.

It didn’t.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t see you—” He stumbled forward causing more coffee to fall on the floor just at my feet.

“It’s fine!” I said through gritted teeth. “Just let me move out of your way.”

I turned on my heel and started speed walking down the hall. More curses fell from my lips as my white tennis shoes started to squeak against the tiled floor. The heat from the coffee made the leather feel like a furnace and the longer I walked the more I wanted to throw them at that intern’s fucking head. I moved the gift basket to my other hand and reached into my back pocket for the door key. I narrowed my eyes at the descending numbers, constantly repeating 2297 in my head as I walked along the corridor. The door arrived on my right and didn’t hesitate to slide the bit of plastic in the slot. The door automatically opened and I practically leaped into the room. I kicked my shoes off at the door and ran to the kitchen.

I placed the massive gift basket on the circle table in the center of the room and strutted toward the sink. I turned on the water and proceeded to ring out the sopping coffee patch from the front of my shirt. The brown liquid swirling in the silver bowl as it danced down the drain. After about a minute of leaning over the sink, a dull ache started to intensify in my back and I quickly repositioned myself. I practically tore the garment from my body and threw it in the sink. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed.

I was seconds away from losing it. This day had been nothing short of a nightmare. The coach wouldn’t stop pestering me about the players’ performance at the games. The press had been hounding me all day, trying to distinguish what hotel room which payer was staying in. A bunch of groupies was waving signs in the lobby and screaming for Gojo to greet them. Then, the icing on the cake got scalded by coffee on the way to my last errand of the day. All I wanted was to take a hot shower and put my feet up. Was that too much to ask?

The slam from the heavy metal door snapped me from my mind and forced me to face the newcomer. Nanami Kento. The middle blocker of Japan’s Olympic volleyball team. He was dressed in a pair of Adidas joggers and a plain white t-shirt. Although the outfit had been relatively mundane, he looked absolutely phenomenal in it. His broad chest stretched the comfortable cotton and was practically painted on it. Yet, the shirt hung very loosely near his waist. Highlighting how narrow it had been. His hair had been combed back and sunglasses were resting atop his head. His brown eyes inched up and down my body. Almost as if he were determining if I had been truly there. In his hotel room. In the kitchen area. With my shirt off.

“Hi!” I said nervously. “I was just dropping off your goodie basket.”

Nanami looks down at the massive gift on the round table and back at me. He doesn’t say a word.

“I just—” I turn around and look down at the sink. I gather my soaking garment from the bin and ring it out. “Some guy ran into me with four cups of scalding hot coffee and practically painted me with them. It just happened, before I got here, I mean.” I turned around to face the athlete, who was a few steps closer to me. His eyes still gracing my figure and presence are so intimidating. “I’m sorry for intruding, I’ll just go—”

“You don’t have to apologize for something that wasn’t in your control,” his voice was low and powerful. It filled the room with ease and demanded to be heard.

“Oh, okay,” I stammered over my words. His intense gaze had been going to my head and making everything around me so fuzzy.

His body was a mere foot from mine a moment later and I could feel a blush rise to my cheeks. “There’s a laundry room down the hall. You can use the shower while I put your shirt in the wash. If that’s what you want?”

“Y-Yeah! But, I don’t have anything to wear in the meantime,” I replied, digging my nails into my palms.

“You can borrow some of my clothes,” he reassured me.

I brought my eyes down to his chest and allowed them to graze over his body. Then, I looked down at my vessel. My plump thighs, a chubby tummy, and ample breasts immediately come to mind. “Uh… do you think they’re gonna fit?”

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” he said, turning away from me. “I’m sure I’ll find you something.”

Upon opening the bathroom door, I found a neat, little pile of clothes on the floor. I craned my neck and looked on either side of the room: I was alone. Nanami must’ve been in the laundry room. I quickly grabbed the little mountain and closed the door. I lifted the first garment to my body. It was a Nike sweatshirt. I slipped it over my body and was relatively surprised to see that it fell just above my knees. It was enormous. And, so soft. I brought the sleeve to my face and gently brushed it against my cheek. His woodsy cologne filled my nose and I allowed my eyes to flutter shut. Even after two years of working with the Volleyball team, Nanami’s warm aroma still made me weak at the knees. He always smelled so fucking good. Like a warm fire and maple syrup. He smelled of Autumn nights in the woods and wondrous dreams. Even when he was a sweaty mess on the court, he kept his scent. As much as I tried to ignore him, or keep my distance, I always managed to get close enough to smell him.

Underneath the sweatshirt had been a pair of cotton gym shorts. The tag had still been on them. Just as I slid them against my legs, I could feel the waistband tightening: they were far too small. I folded the shorts and placed them on the toilet seat. As I looked on the bathroom floor, I realized something. I hadn’t only given Nanami my shirt and pants. I gave him everything. My shirt, pants, bra, underwear, and even my socks. I had nothing else to wear but this damned sweatshirt.

“Oh fuck,” I said as I palmed my face. I groaned loudly and tightly gripped the sleeves of the sweatshirt. “Talk about dumb bitch itis.”

After a few seconds of silent complaining, I gathered the shorts and exited the bathroom. Just as Nanami was entering the kitchen area. He looked down at me with a questioned glint in his eye.

“Did they not fit?” He asked abruptly.

“No, they didn’t,” I said with a disappointed look. “My ass is too fat.”

Why the fuck did I say that?

A blush erupts on my face seconds later and I immediately press a hand to my face. “Ignore my stupidity. Please.”

A smooth chuckle filled the room and a large hand was placed on my shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said with an amused twang in his voice. “I find your little remarks funny.”

I removed the hand from my face and looked into his mahogany eyes. His pupils were expanded the longer I gazed into. Just as his lips gently separated. I had never seen the older man so realized. He almost had a youthful glow about him.

Why are you so fucking attractive?

I cleared my throat and handed him the shorts. “Thank you. For everything.”

“No worries,” Nanami responded as he retrieved the garment.

I took a seat at the small round table, where the gift basket rested. I eyed the imported meats and jams from all around the world. Along with two bottles of wine and chocolate-covered strawberries. My stomach growled, despite all my efforts to contain the wounded whale noise. I nervously looked up at Nanami and he just gave me a little smirk. He turned over to the cabinet and removed a few items. Two small plates, wine glasses, and a knife. He placed the cutlery on the table, before turning away again to reach for something on the other side of the counter. To my surprise, it was a baguette, stored in a white paper bag. Nanami took the seat across from me and began opening the basket.

“I must admit, I was a little bit hungry myself,” he said gently. “But, I just didn’t want to say anything.”

“Oh really?” I questioned leaning forward.

“These events always go on for so long,” he continued. “It is so hard to find the time to get a bite in without the camera watching your every move.”

“You’re not wrong,” I agreed with a nod.

Nanami removed the large plastic covering from the basket before tossing it to the side. He eyes all the goodies before slightly groaning. “They gave me chocolate-covered strawberries.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Not really,” he replied. “I just don’t particularly like them, that’s all.”

“How could you not like chocolate-covered strawberries!?” I asked in complete disbelief.

“It’s either the coating is too sweet, or the strawberry is too ripe,” Nanami explained. “So, it just takes like a puddle of mush in my mouth. It’s not a great feeling.”

“I see your point,” I nodded.

He slid the clear box across the table and simply said, “Try them and tell me how they taste.”

I popped the lid off of the container and took the fruit by the stem. I opened my mouth slightly and took a bite. My eyes widened instantly, as a moan fell from my lips. The strawberry was perfectly ripe, so it had a nice snap to it. While the chocolate was a rich, dark kind and it perfectly tempered the sweetness from the fruit. I finished off the berry with a satisfied grin on my face, before reaching for another one.

“So. . . ?” Nanami asked from across the table.

“These are so good!” I said with a smile. “You gotta try them!”

“Hmm. . . I don’t know—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” I interjected as I rose from my seat. I leaned across the table and held out the berry that I had in my hand. “Now, open up .”

“Aren’t you bossy?” Nanami smiled to himself, before separating his lips and taking the fruit into his mouth. His brown eyes never left mine as he took a small bite of the treat. He chewed slowly. Savoring the decadent flavor and texture. He opened his mouth some more, taking another bite. This time it was a little bit bigger than the last. Again, Nanami took his time to savor the dessert. Keeping his eyes glued to my flushed face. I was so sucked into his aura that I completely disregarded the streams of strawberry juice painting my fingers. When I went to wipe it off, Nanami simply gripped my wrist and gave a disapproved look.

“Come here,” his voice deepened and Adam’s apple bobbed.

I moved around the small round table, taking my sweet time as I went. And, when I was directly in front of him, I could feel my heart pound in my chest. Nanami removed the green bit from my fingertips, before opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue. He dragged the pink muscle across the surface of my hand slowly. Sensually. Never taking his eyes off of me.

Air seemed to leave my lungs as I watched his tongue do all the work. My mind slowly started to fog and my legs weakened. Everything happened so quickly. One second, Nanami was seated before me at the table and the next I was seated on the countertop with his waist between my legs. His lips were on mine. Taking my very breath away. Nanami moaned against my mouth before taking my bottom lip between his teeth. I widened my legs, greedily wanting him to be close to me. My entire body was hot, and my womanhood was dripping. I felt one of his hands creep into the small separating our bodies and settle on my naked thigh. His thumb seductively teased my vulva before going straight for my clit. My legs twitched at the new stimulation and a moan oozed from my mouth.

“You’re so wet for me, little one,” he said against my lips.

“Mhm!” I replied with a low moan.

Nanami pulled away from the kiss and looked down at me. Eyes nearly black with lust. “Do you want me to make you feel good, darling?”

“Please, Nanami,” I slurred as I felt his thumb move a little faster on my bud. “Please make me feel good.”

“Kento,” he said as he kissed down my jaw to my neck. “You call me Kento from now on.”

“Okay,” I replied breathlessly. My eyes fluttered closed and I craned my neck to the side. Just enough for him to suckle against the sensitive skin. “Kento, please make me feel good.”

“Good girl, Y/N,” he replied before removing his hand from between my thighs.

Nanami proceeds to kiss down my clothed torso before settling on his knees. He moves my pelvis to the very edge of the counter before he spreads my lower lips and kisses my throbbing clit. “Look at you. So pink. So pretty.” He runs his tongue against the throbbing bud and a moan falls from my lips. “And so sensitive.” Nanami forces my legs open wider, before spitting on my already wet cunt. He drags his wide tongue against my folds slowly, tasting all of my slick before dipping it into my awaiting center.

My legs twitch again and a squeal dances across my lips. “Oh fuck!”

“Oh, so you like that, huh?” His brown eyes gaze up at me, observing my every move. “You like it when I fuck you with my tongue?”

I nodded shyly. “Yes, please don’t stop.”

Nanami dipped his head back to my core and used his thumbs to thread my folds apart. He dipped his tongue in and out of the slick crevice sensually. He swallowed the muscle around as he did so. After a minute or two of the action, his hot mouth made it back to my clit. His lips wrapped around the throbbing bud, as his tongue wiggled all over it. Nanami hadn’t been the type of man to give a woman cute, little kitten licks and call that oral sex. He wanted me to feel every centimeter of his tongue. Not just the tip, but the top, both sides, and the bottom. The blonde man swirled the muscle against my clit, making sure to cover to caress every side of the little bud. And when he had been tired of that motion, he hollowed his cheeks and began to move his head side to side. Just when I thought I could take any more stimulation, he proceeds to push his thumb in my core.

Animalist sounds had been pouring from my body as I hand tightly gripped the roots of his hair. The other hand was pressed flat against the counter, providing support for my back. I started to roll my hips against his lips and I swore fireworks were erupting my eyelids. My clenched jaw began to relax as I felt the tension within me rise. I was so close to reaching my peak, I didn’t want that moment to end. I licked my lips and dropped my shoulders. I took deep breaths to calm the incoming wave of pleasure. To lessen the blow, I eased my eyes open and released the grip on Nanami’s hair. The effort didn’t last very long, since Nanami began to bob his head up and down. Whilst sucking my clit. My toes curled against themselves and my legs tense. My right hand gripped the collar of the sweatshirt and dug my nails into the cloth. My breathing increased and my eyes started to water. My stomach hallowed as the throbbing of my womanhood increased.

“I’m gonna—! I’m gonna—!” My sentence was cut off by gasps.

I desperately found it increasingly hard to breathe, let alone string three words together.

And, just like that, all the feeling in my body stopped. The vibrant sounds all around me— the slight hum of the air conditioning, the slight chattering of the people passing by, and the soft groans of Nanami— muffled. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and my mouth fell open. A low groan erupted from the depths of my being as the orgasm formed. In the heat of the moment, all I could process was how skilled Nanami’s mouth was against my aching cunt. I couldn’t process the vibrating phone on the kitchen table. Nor could I have taken in the rivers of fluid dripping my hole.

When the wave came to a gentle end, Nanami rose from his knees and looked me in the eye. He brought his thumb to his lips and sucked. The blonde man smirked and situated himself in between my thighs.

“Who would’ve thought you were a creamer?” He said with a low chuckle. “And such a good girl.” He captured my lips against his own and moaned. “You taste so good, little one. I want to keep you all to myself.” His hands slide underneath the sweatshirt, scrunching the material along the way. Seconds later, the garment was tossed across the room and I was sitting stark naked on the granite countertop. Facing a fully clothed Nanami. “Now, before we go any further, I’m gonna ask you something really important.”

“What is it?” I replied, looking up at the towering man.

Nanami placed an index finger underneath my chin before pressing a sweet kiss onto my lips. He pulled away from the embrace and looked me dead in the eye. “Are you comfortable with continuing our little rendezvous?”

“Y-yes! I’m comfortable,” I answered, as a blush rose to my cheeks.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” He pressed on, leaning closer to me. “I don’t mind stopping if you just aren’t feeling up to it.”

I took a deep breath and assembled all the courage in my being. What was about to say next had been completely out of pocket, but I couldn’t think of any other way to get my point across. “Kento, stop being such a fucking gentleman and take me from behind.”

Without a word, Nanami rids himself of his shirt and unbuckles his belt. He shoves his pants down his legs and kicks them off. He pulls my body off the counter and twirls me around. In the near distance, I hear the familiar crackle of a condom wrapper and the slamming of the bathroom cabinet. With my chest pressed against the surface, he sank into me. His hard shaft stretched my walls as he pushed himself inside.

“Oooh, you’re so big,” I said with a gasp.

“And you’re so tight,” he replied before combing my braids to one shoulder. “Tell me when you’re ready, darling.”

I relaxed my back and took several deep breaths. He had been the biggest man I had ever been with. His heavy cock had already been resting neatly against the roof of my vagina and I already knew that I was a goner. I wiggled my hips to alert the blond man of my comfortability, somewhat afraid that if I speak that I’d sound even more desperate. He eased out of my core, leaving just the tip in, before pushing himself right back at it. No with brute force, but with some kind of resistance. He continued those deep, slow strokes for a little while. Making sure I had warmed up to him long enough for his main assault. When I started to throw my ass back to meet his thrusts, Nanami began to move his hips faster. Hammering his member into me without any warning. Pleasure rippled through my body. His girthy cock had been stretching my canal in every possible way. Gravity had made it fall right on of my g-spot, which made each thrust insanely brutal. I felt his arm wrap around my waist and hold me in position, while the other hand rubbed soft circles on my clit. With my hands flat on the counter, I pushed my body up and arched my back. My breasts bounced violently with each thrust, and so did my ass. My plush body practically became a puddle against his rock-hard muscles.

The longer he pounded into my fat cunt, the more I was astonished by this union. How the fuck did I end up bent over a kitchen counter, and fucked into oblivion by one of Japan’s sweethearts? Some horny, middle-writer must’ve taken the wheel because this kind of thing has never happened to me before. Sure, I hooked up with hot guys all the time, but this was different. Nanami Kento was a man that millions of women would bend backward for. He had options, including other Olympians. Motherfucker could be in one of the orgy parties happening at this very moment. Yet, the older man decided to spend a Friday afternoon railing his coach’s assistant.

What a time to be alive.

Nanami kept his rapid, deep pace well into the rendezvous. But, after a short while, he removed the hand from my aching little and placed it on my throat. A grateful moan fell from my lips as my eyes fluttered closed.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He growled in my ear. “You little my hand around your press throat?”

“Yes,” I replied, breathless.

He groaned softly and squeezed his fingers. “You are such a good girl. Taking my cock with no complaints. Moaning my name like no tomorrow. Milking me for everything I’m worth.”

Nanami’s hand collided with my thigh and I squealed.

“You have no idea how long I waited to fuck that juicy cunt of yours,” he continued. “You were always so sexy to me. Showing your legs in those short tennis skirts. God, I just wanted to drag you to the locker room and fuck you right then and there. Have you screaming for everyone to hear.” Nanami grunts loudly and tightens his grip around my waist. “You are mine now. Mind, body, and soul. No one and I mean no one gets to fuck you like this ever again. You don’t get to scream anyone else’s name but mine. Do you understand me, Y/N? You are mine.”

I pressed my palms harder against the countertop and tried to slow down my breathing. My arousal had been dripping down my thighs in milky streams and my ass had been a bright red because of the harsh slaps he had given it. My knees were slowly turning into jelly as my walls began to pulsate. The peak of my bliss had been rapidly approaching and I had no way of dumbing down its intensity. I relaxed my jaw and allowed my eyes to close. The gentle humming of the orgasm approached and I rode the wave. My knees wobbled against the lower cabinets as deep, throaty pants were pulled from my body. I hunched my back forward and pressed my palms against the countertop. Aching for some sort of stability. Goosebumps rose on my arms and legs. All the sounds in the room melted away and left me with a dull ringing in my ear. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt tears roll down my cheeks.

“Oh my god. . .” I slurred underneath my breath as the peak of my ride subsided.

Nanami’s lips released a string of sensual moans before I felt his cock twitch within me. He forces out a deep breath and presses his body against my back. The older man pulls out of my slick entrance and begins kissing my shoulders. He gently spins me around to face him and plants a wet kiss on my swollen lips. He doesn’t say a word, just looks at me with half-shut eyes and combs the braids from my eyes.

It was my vibrating phone that snapped me back to reality. I quickly pulled away from the athlete and reached for the device on the round table a few feet away.

“Hello?” I said breathlessly.

“Where the hell is Nanami?” Coach Yaga screamed on the other line of the phone. “We started practice over thirty minutes ago and his ass isn’t even here!”

“I-I haven’t seen him, sir,” I replied. “I just dropped off his basket and left. He wasn’t in the room when I was there.”

“I understand it’s your night off, but I need you to find that asshole pronto,” he snarled. “I’ll give you the entire weekend if you just bring him to the gym.”

“O-okay! Will do,” I said with a nod.

“Good, call me back when you find him.”

I hung up the phone and looked over at the athlete; who had remained as naked as I left him. Yet, he was no longer soft.

“You better get in the shower,” I boasted with narrow eyes. “I will not be out of a job because you missed practice.”

“Let me remind you, little one,” Nanami said as he closed the distance between us. “You are the reason why I am late. So, the only person you can blame is yourself.”

“I didn’t ask you to fuck me— “

“Actually, you did—”

“I will beat your ass!”

“I’d like to see you try.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and looked up at him. “If you don’t hurry up and get to the gym, this will be the final time you’ll ever see me naked.”

Nanami’s hands gripped my waist tightly as he pressed his body against mine. “You make a tough bargain. But, I’m gonna need a little more convincing.”

“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “I guess I’m gonna take Gojo up on his offer.”

“What offer?”

“He wanted to go on a mochi date tonight. Maybe have some ramen. Depends on how the night goes.”

“You better not be teasing me Y/N.”

“I’m not. He’s super into me and I kinda want to give him a shot. What do I have to lose?”

“Millions of brain cells.”

“Be nice.”

“I don’t have to. He’s a fucking idiot.”

I laugh loudly and pull away from the skyscraper of a man. “Well, I find it charming. At least he cares about volleyball. Unlike someone, I know.”

Nanami groans softly and departs in the direction of the bathroom. “Fine, but you better be joining me. Can’t meet the coach all sweaty and sticky.”

“Only if you keep your hands to yourself.”

“No promises.”

[ellsbclls]

𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄-𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇  🍂

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓

4.7K

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

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𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘

autumn came in spite of winter, just as winter came in spite of spring, and spring in spite of summer. so on and so forth the seasons topple onward, a sonorous affair that eclipses the last's ephemeral breath, but above all else, two things remain true — the seasons start and end with peter parker, and autumn never truly feels like autumn until he burns his tongue on hot apple cider.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 & 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

a lovely, dovely shoutout to my dearest @aniqua​, @cocoamoonmalfoy​, @arachine​ for holding my hand through this process 🥺 this. . . this is the frankenstein of hot messs™️, so proceed with caution. there will be nsfw content, so if you are a minor, please do not interact!

extended warnings ➛ nsfw, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, cunnilingus, slight exhibitionism (but no one gets caught), and peter parker being a little shit.

SEPTEMBER 20, 2021.

WESTCHESTER, NY. 

The moon dawdles beneath a tarp of star-seamed stucco — a crepe-paper mobile eclipsing the seam of Westchester, swathing upstate New York in its amber embrace. 

The harvest moon is out tonight, and so are the people.

You watch as it’s pale icteric gaze kisses apple-crate storefronts, casting champagne highlights across the cobblestone pathways and all its inhabitants. What once was a desolate farmer’s market was now a bustling, late-bloomed village, where pumpkin carving dwellings and apple cider conservatories sprout from the grasslands in kindling droves, replicating the warmth autumn has so swiftly snatched just to ignite a sleeping village with amorous brushfire.

Despite the waxing influx of visitors, it somehow feels like you and Peter are the only two people in the entire world, your footsteps syncing up in perfect tandem as leaves whirl around your feet like russet - gold tumbleweeds. 

In this moment, it’s just you, and him… and the ever cautious mantra of the apple cider vendor — reminding Peter of how hot the cup is. 

That she’s about to hand him the cup, and it is extremely hot.

And he nods — he has the audacity to nod — as if he isn't clearly reaching for the flimsy paper cup with bare, outreached hands.

By the time he has the beverage clasped in his grasp, you don’t have the heart to look at the vendor — not when his thin veil of ease is busy masking the comical grimace that comes with an inflamed hand. Instead, you usher him away from the plywood hut, avoiding the blithe audience that has accumulated behind you.

The palm of his hand eclipses your own with a warm inner-face, an unconscious effort to keep you in his orbit. Fingers weave into your own with a familiar ease, build up a steady swing with each southbound step, but you can still make out the light rhythm he taps across your knuckles. It’s something fast-paced, and far too complex for someone with so little musical prowess. It elicits an all out grin from the twitch of your lips regardless.

That sweet moment of solace, that pocket of time reserved solely for the two of you, is upheaved by a bolstering —

“Shit!” 

You resist the urge to sink yours eyes into the back of your head when MJ’s goading alto pecks at your ear, besmirching the cruel reminder of how wrong you were. You should have bet money on it, should have known better than to imagine a year where Peter Parker didn’t attempt to gulp down a six ounce cup of streaming hot cider like the web of life dangled upon it — but your friend had a penchant for being right, and no amount of money could ever amount to the sheer joy of knowing it.

Your chuckle — a stilted minuet of half-hearted levity— chimes through crisp, harvest air in sweet triplets. “Sheesh, Parker. Without fail.”

He doesn’t bother to answer you, far too concerned with the scorched plane of his tongue to muster a coherent enough response. That’s when your lite motif barrels into something heartier, something the helm of your porcelain gates does little to assuage, as you outright laugh at his improvised balm, panting into the night air with thick, foggy plumes of breath.

“Calm down, Lassie. Do you want me to kiss it better?” You tease, head lolling to the side, taking the opportunity to survey, and ultimately intake, his helpless demeanor. Your heart would squeeze at such a sight if it weren’t so humorously acquainted with it. 

Your wounded lover attempts to accept your offer, but his, “please?” quickly melts into a dilapidated “ble?” before he can salvage its remains.

Moments like these just beg the question of how you got so lucky. How did you manage to find someone so seemingly hand-crafted for you — a twinkling star fit for the palm of your waiting hand? Awkward, and clumsy, and frayed at the seams, but yours all the same. 

You're ripped from your lovelorn reverie by a wonted fanfare — The Imperial March.  

Ned.

It only takes a few seconds for Peter to scour the message before he parrots it back to you. Regardless of whether its sent in the groupchat, or to Peter in  private, Ned is painfully aware of how little is off-limits when it comes to you.

“Ned said him and Betty have been in the hay maze for forty-five minutes,” Honeycomb hues meet yours instantly, only one thought circulating through your shared orbit. “Think we can beat ‘em?”

“Marco?” Is this the third or third hundredth time? You’ve lost count — the name foreign, yet all too familiar as it rolls off your tongue. “Marco!”

“Polo.”

You can tell he’s exhausted. That’s one of the many benefits of lending your heart to him — and vice versa — his fatigue seeps into your own, blurring and melding until it’s one gaudy semblance of debility.

You can also tell that his head is pressed against the bale of hay opposite you. If the gentle rustle of hay didn’t tickle your senses, then the accompanying forlorn sigh surely would have.

With roughly eighteen inches of forage separating you, you wonder just how looming a threat your boyfriend truly stands against New York’s most fiendish villains. How — when his greatest enemy at the moment is cow fodder?

You decide to meet him halfway, nuzzling your forehead into your side of the barrier as if it was his own. “We’ve been going at it for hours, Peter."

His chuckle — something light and twinkling with mischief — punctures the air. If you didn’t know any better, you’d wonder if it was truly your boyfriend on the other side, and not some mythical woodland creature.

But alas, his humored timbre qualms any sense of doubt. “I don’t see why you’re complaining — if memory serves me right, you’ve lasted way longer than twenty minutes.”

You sigh — opting to ignore his shameless display of immaturity — pushing yourself off the wall and further from him.  “Are you sure you don’t remember where we split off?”

“Well, I remember making a turn at a stack of hay, and then I made another turn…” You don’t need enhanced hearing to make out the tap of his finger against his chin. Serves you right forgetting your boyfriend is equal parts ‘shy schoolgirl’ and ‘little shit’. “Yeah, at another stack of hay, and if you wouldn’t believe, there was another stack of hay! Wanna take a jab at—”

Though you prayed for silence, you never imagined it would come in abundance. The floor dropped out from beneath his testimony, drowning you in tides of worry. The unknown is a mighty tempest, a jarring typhoon of possibility, and with little sway for your excessive imagination.

What if one of his sworn enemies has taken this brief moment of solitude to ambush him? What if his blood sugar has spiked beyond medical aid? What if someone heard his sarcastic quips and knocked the living daylights out of him?

“Peter?” Your voice strives to slither past the foraged divide, but to no avail, barely meandering over the peak,  “Peter, are you okay?”

No response. Not a sound, save for the distant chatter of disparate maze runners, and the far off rustle of leaves dangling just above the maze. If it weren’t for their gentle pizzicato, you might have heard the faint thump of barley, and their subsequent restock. Hell, maybe you’d even notice the slight nudge of the wall beside you, and how you were the prey — a raucous, buzzing little thing with no chance against your silver-fanged predator.

“Gotcha!” The sound, the newfound presence, the inevitable sense of danger — it all renders you motionless. Toned arms wreath around your unforgiving frame, clasping hard around the squirm, trying hard to immobilize you despite your valiant efforts, and though his voice lends a calming salve to a fretful situation, you persist. Blind to the reality of the situation, hampered by the fear. “Hey hey hey, it’s me! Look — Look at me. It's just me. I’ve got you.”

You finally still in his arms.

One, two, three blinks, each divided by a sharp, jagged breath, and then a shove. Two shoves. Three shoves. You’re nearly inclined to tackle him to the ground, but you think better of it, seeing as your dress isn’t suited for hand-to-hand combat.

You’re not satisfied until he’s struggling against a nearby bale of hay, nor do you stop until his digits encompass your wiry wrists — and even then, you still struggle against his grasp, his stifled laughter only prompting you further.

“You’re really cute when you’re angry.”

The cocky remark summons a scowl to your brims, and there’s not a hint of hesitation when your knee collides with the inside of his thigh. He’s just lucky that the angle is skewed, a couple degrees to the left and it would have landed hard against his —

“No really, did I mention how cute you look today?” He tilts his head, and somehow, he successfully catches you off guard.

A small frown forms between your perfectly manicured brows, tilting your jaw downward to survey what was once a hastily strewn attire — a simple, cotton dress that kisses the top of your knees, bundled under the oversized expanse of your chunky, woolen sweater. If it weren’t for the lazy circles he managed to sneak into the back of your knees, you would assume he was teasing you, but his attention is clearly piqued. His eyes flit across your frame in a shameless display of endearment, and you narrowly avoid the buckle of your knees.

“You think so?” Pearly veneers dig into the corner of your lesser lip, a preemptive strike against the dopey smile that forms from his confirmation.

“Adorable, actually.”

His timbre drops barely above a rasp, unfurling into a territory most treacherous and rarely inhabited outside either of your bedrooms. It’s low, and desperate, and curling it’s fingers around the base of your stomach, setting off alarms at every corner of your tightening chest.

“Reel it in, tiger.” You affectionately trace your finger down the bridge of his nose, unsuccessfully fighting the simper that swells to fruition when you stroke the tiny notch in its path. His random spurts of desire aren’t so random in your eyes. In fact, all they really take are a couple instances worth of bait — a couple slaps here, a goading comment there — anything to get his blood flowing. And flow it does, rising and boiling into a tepid froth, and whether his spider senses are cause for any blame, you’re formally acquainted with the aftermath of such taunting.

It’s sitting right before you, a wolf licking its chops beneath a lamb sheared mane.

“What?” he chirps, blinking up at you with his best attempt at faux innocence, swallowing what little mischief riddles his tone. “I just think you look nice.”

He closes the gap between you before you can conjure a witty response, fervent lips stealing the remainder of your words, your breath, in a longing union of lips, and tongue, and teeth galore. Your thoughts were soon lost to the overwhelming onslaught of him, thin lips cascading over your own in greedy waves, threatening to sweep every ounce of you up into his rolling tide, devour you whole, shallow out the spot closest to his heart in hopes of lending you its eternal residence.

“I really like your sweater.” Amidst gradual passes of his feather-light tongue, ivory veneers nip at the swell of your lips, soothing his blistering assault with a tender caress. “Bet you’re super warm.”

“Yeah?” You brows nearly shoot into your hairline, a staggering sigh toppling from the back of your throat as his hands map out the curve of your waist, toying with the hem of your sweater until it sheaths his fingers — and even then, it’s not enough. They dance along the ruched seams, waltz in time with the shivers that rack your spine, until finally, they take residence just beneath the curve of your breast, knuckles faintly tracing the underside. “I’ll, uh- I’ll look for one for you next time we go-”

“No bra?“ He wonders aloud, intrigued by the thin divide between you and the cup of his palms, letting an octave give way to his corroborative hum. Your weak excuse dies on the tip of your tongue, and you try to convince yourself that the thick swallow that follows is one of consumption, and not bridled with tension.

His hands, those calloused fingertips, venture beneath billows of cable knit catacombs, scour up, up, up acres of match-lit skin in search of an answer. Smothered within the cavern of your throat, entombed beneath skidded sighs and staggering pants that stockpile like boulders, upon the crest of your tongue it lays.

And he loves it. Trips over himself in pursuit of that fleeting sense of submission.

You allow yourself just enough clarity to compose a suitable defense, testifying on the skewed grounds of, “I didn’t — the sweater… it felt a little redundant.”

“Hmmm,” he muses, nearly pensive, as if the reality of your bare chest hasn’t plagued his mind since the very thought occurred. “That’s true. Though I’m not complaining.”

His thumb finally grazes over the spot where your nipples strain against your dress and you both fold — you, with your fluttery intake of breath and him, with his fierce exhale. Even the ghost of pressure sparks a light deep in the barrow of your belly. “And so it seems to you.”

The thin canopy of foliage that skirts the blueprint of the hay maze does little to quell your fear of being caught, but just enough to propel your further into his grasp — lithe digits sprouting amidst the nape of his neck as their twins dig lunettes into his bicep, grappling for leverage, for some tether to the ground, lest his whirlwind of ruttish ministrations send you careening toward the harvest moon itself.

You can’t. You’re ripped from your lavish stupor by stark realization, a backhanded strike of clarity that begs the question — where does this end?

You don’t care to find out. So, you scramble, clawing at stray seedlings of an excuse.

“Do you wanna—” A sin-slick tongue climbs the juncture of your jaw, cauterizing the thought, sterilizing the sound, confiscating the air in its very tracks. Yet, you persevere, reviving your feeble attempt, “Do you wanna go back in the maze?”

You already know his answer, so it barely surprises you when downy, chestnut curls tickle the side of your neck with an abstinent shake — the chuckle you release is but a sheer mask for your bittersweet sigh.

“No? No, me neither.” And so he continues, greedy palms weighing the curve of your breasts as his lips reclaim dominion over the plush valley of your own, swallowing your tiny mewls with a hunger seldom seen until you, begrudgingly so, tear yourself away again.

“Maybe we can — Maybe we can go back in the van?”

The thought of getting off in the back of his 1980′s Chevy G30 is a sobering one, to say the least, especially when it’s tethered to the fact that it’s under Ned’s name as well — but a small part of you would rather a creaky backseat rendezvous over a fine for public indecency.

With a disgruntled sigh, Peter tears himself from the cradle of your neck with a wet smack, diverting his palms to the swell of your hips. You’re cornered by his puppy dog gaze, maple leaf hues strung beneath asymmetrical brows, and struggle to swallow beneath the gravity of his silence alone.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl? You don’t like this?” His palms sooth over the blistering expanse of your thighs, twin trespassers voyeuring beneath the rumpled hem of your dress — traipsing upon the silk-spun rope of his advances. He knows you like the back of his hand, charts out the starry gleam of your gaze like the trails of his palm’s indentation, pinpoints the exact coordinate of your desire, and whether it leans in his favor. If the keen thrust of your hips, seeking refuge in the wealth of his wandering hands, serves any inclination, he’s found his vantage point. “You don’t want me to make you feel good?”

Caution is soon swept into November’s galeful sigh as his knuckles swipe across the front of your panties, sparking a sliver of friction against the wet patch that has formed there. Providing a mere whisper of what’s to come.

His name struggles to spill from your lips —no obstacles to place the blame upon, no hindrances — just the sheer result of his teasing advances brings your voice to a rearing halt.

No matter, he takes advantage of this opportunity, filling the silence with his wicked words. “Just relax for me. You know I won’t let anyone see. This pussy was made just for me.”

He’s good. He’s so good, it takes you a while to remember why you were apprehensive in the first place — why you stopped him from steering you to the balefuls of hay scattered at your disposal, why you refused to let your legs lounge upon his shoulders, why you deprived him of such an intimate showcase of your devotion — of the arousal pooling past your cotton panties, smearing across your thighs in translucent floe.

“So, so sweet.” he hums against your core, his tongue near ravenous as he laps at the nectar spilling from your tight little hole, savoring each languid stroke and the cloying waves of arousal that accompany it.

He can feel the eagerness building in the hollow of your hips, bucking against his tongue in needy strides. You’re on the verge of damn near riding his face, overwhelmed by the hunger that festered deep within his actions — and had his arms not trapped your thighs in a vice-like grip, you very well would have.

“Please, Peter.” you beg, mind so muddled with pleasure that you can barely find a reason for your mindless pleading.

“Please what, pretty girl?” He tears himself from your centre just long enough to shoot you a condoling gaze, and you can;t suppress the pitiful whimper that spills past your lips, the absence of his tongue depriving you of his warmth in all its vulgar glory. Even as his broad, sweeping shoulders press into the back of your thighs, forcing your legs down and apart with his biceps, and even as his fingers voyeur underneath the hem of your nightdress, bunching the silky fabric to your waist, you still need more — more of his skilled tongue, more of his filthy words, more of him. So, never one to disappoint — nor waste a hard earned meal — he replaces his tongue with his fingers, ghosting lazy circles over your sensitive bud whilst he waits for an answer neither of you know. “What do you need? I’ll give you anything you want, but you gotta speak to me.”

“M-more.” You manage to spit out, voice desperate and wrecked under his barely there pressure. “I need more, Peter.”

“More of what?” At this point, he’s outright punishing you, what with how quickly his lazy circles shift into gentle strokes of his thumb, teasing you to a point where the hay you’re strewn upon provides more friction than his ministrations — but if it means that he can revel in the pretty little noises that sneak past your lips, and the feeble stir of your thighs against his hold, for just a moment longer, then it is all the more worthwhile. “You want more of my tongue, or do you want me to use my fingers?”

You don’t even hesitate, writhing against his arms as you chase his barely there pressure. “Both, Pete. I want both, please.”

“‘Atta girl. You’re so wet for someone who wanted to go back in the maze.” Like a rubber band, something taut within him finally snaps, and his eager, hot mouth is back where it rightfully belongs, spoiling your clit with a series of quick, remorseless laps that leave you gasping for air. He wastes no time burying his middle finger into your heat — slowly, carefully working you open, your walls lighting up like a circuit board against the lithe intrusion.

“So fucking tight, too.” he notes casually, as if he isn’t buried to the last knuckle. The force of his digits pumping your arousal around causes the most obscene sounds to pour from your sopping hole as he plunges his middle finger deep inside you, and he promptly adds the adjacent when he notices your breathy sighs grow needier, laced with an urgency only the stretch of his fingers can provide. “Just know you’re gonna feel like heaven wrapped around my cock.”

To compare your body to heaven, though, feels like a gross understatement. How can he be privy to such sweet, unfettered salvation, reign at the disposal of someone as enchanting as you — clad in nothing but that dulcet half - smile he yearns to be on the receiving end of. If your thighs are the pillars to a hidden sanctum, there he is as nothing but a humble disciple, preaching gospel into the space between your legs, glorious waves of ambrosia blessing his tongue as it ravages every inch of your warm, velvety walls. You’re like the scripture, a body of work he’ll dutifully follow to the end of times, devoting his life to the memory of your puffy, kiss-weathered lips and heat-stricken glow. Heaven can do no justice when you are the faith itself, a religion he can finally find peace in — find home in.

And if you haven’t felt it before, there is no denying it now, his fingers and mouth devouring you like you’re his last meal. The back of your wrist is bathed in the parting breath of your needy, wanton moans, mixed with the vulgar sounds he produces each time he pats his tongue against your clit. His fingers are busy pounding into your opening, curling them at the hilt of each thrust, and a wild blush blooms across your cheeks as pools of your arousal drip from his fingers like honey.

You can hear it, the excess wetness squelching against your cunt at a punishing tempo.

You muster just enough strength to lift yourself up without a traitorous moan, stray needles of hay prickling at your elbows as you lean on your forearms, and the view of Peter’s handiwork is enough to tighten the coil slowly building in your stomach. He is obscene, with his warm caramel hues fluttered to a close, and his chin glistening in a thin sheen of your arousal. He has abandoned your clit in pursuit of your opening again, replacing his fingers with his tongue just to indulge in yet another course of your sweet juices, his broken nose clumsily knocking against your clit as your walls clamped around his tongue.

A small part of you yearns for a distraction, selfishly aches for a semblance of reprieve amidst the brutal onslaught of his tongue.

Yet, as if he can hear your very thoughts, his hands climb the curve of your hips, branching off from your waist to intertwine with your hands, offering you support with a reassuring squeeze.

There’s something so tender about that moment, something far greater than the open expanse, with your fingers nestled perfectly between his own, and the sinful drag of his tongue caressing spots you didn’t even know existed, forever etching his name into the most intimate pieces of you.

You’re so glad you didn’t go back in the maze — hell, in your cockdrunk stupod, you’d be grateful to have him tucked between your thighs in the maze — so long as he’s the one by your side.

It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to realize that you're free of his hold, that you’re free to grind down against his ravenous tongue, chasing your high as it peaks  just over the horizon. “Peter, I’m gonna cum.”

“I know, I can feel you.” he hums against your core, the vibrations only adding to the warmth that floods your body each time he laps at your snug, weepy entrance. “Let go for me.”

It only takes a couple more sinful drags of his tongue, paired with the dizzying reappearance of his thumb against your clit, to push you over the edge. Something guttural bubbles in your chest, soon erupting in a helpless scream, and all thoughts are lost to the sweet wash of release he coaxes out of you, your sopping cunt clenching around his tongue in sporadic waves.

His calloused fingers are quick to dig into your hips, guiding you back to his tongue as you try to shy away, and you aren’t sure if he wants to help you ride out your high or simply push you to yet another earth-shattering orgasm. Either way, you melt into his touch, tiny whimpers tumbling from your lips as he works your tender walls.

And even as fatigue blankets your weary form, and that once looming threat floats back to the surface of your lust-washed brain,  one thing is for certain — you can’t wait for him to fuck you.

A low, hearty chuckle peals against your centre, and you wonder if Peter can feel you getting worked up all over again.

You pressed your palm against his head, silently urging him to let up, and he complies, the labored rise and fall of his chest further exemplified once he sits back on his haunches.

“C’mere, pretty girl,” he coaxed you into his lap with a pat of his thighs, watching you struggle to bound off your makeshift surface and crawl into his embrace with wobbly legs. You muster just enough strength to straddle his waist, draping yourself around his sinewy frame in a desperate attempt to suffocate any space between you, and his hands scale the side of your face, tenderly cupping your cheek. “Come taste how sweet you are.”

You waste no time crashing your mouth against his, and he wastes no time prying the seam of your lips apart with his tongue, using his free hand to cradle the back of your head as he pours lifetimes worth of yearning, of insatiable want, against your waiting mouth — woefully humbled by just how mutual the feeling is.

You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue and paw miserably at his back, aching to feel more of him, to be impossibly closer.

But soon his hands are patting your backside, shucking shy leaflets off the downy fabric against your backside, and his hand finds purchase against the crown of your head. He combats your incredulous gaze with a warm, enchanting sweep of a laugh — so saccharine, so tooth-achingly infectious, that it coaxes a flurry of soft giggles from your belly.

And for a fleeting second, you forget that the curved imprint threatening the sanctity of Peter’s jeans feels perfect against your sensitive heat, and that your panties are nowhere to be found, and that the late-bloomed weather is what sends a shiver up your spine. All you know is Peter, Peter, Peter — and the harrowing weight of love that he pours into his gaze whenever it lands on you.

“Let’s get out of here.” He suggests, applying just enough pressure to the back of your head to bring you down to his lips, punctuating his soft reassurance with a soft scattering of chaste kisses, your forehead blushed with apple cider kisses.

It takes everything in him to tear his lips from you, but he fails to smother his soft chuckle once you whine at the loss of contact, opting to offer you his hand for leverage. The ground feels foreign beneath your wobbly stature, regardless of your intimate acquaintance, and you’re further disoriented once he pulls you into his chest, hushed words curling around the shell of your ear.

“The sooner we get out of here, the sooner I can finish what we started.” Sealing his sacred vow, he plants one last, lingering kiss to the spot just below your ear, a contrastingly tender period to such a frazzling statement. You get the privilege of wondering how he does it so casually.

“Hey, where’d you guys go?” Ned is the first to acknowledge you, wrapping you up in one of his signature embraces, just tgt enough to knock the wind out of you, along with any doubt that he cherishes you and your place in his arms. He then turns to Peter, and the ceremonial handshake commences, filled with hand acrobatics and the remainder of his query. “There was this guy dressed up as Spiderman on Main Street, reading ghost stories to the kids. You would have loved it.”

MJ’s knowing gaze is a hot poker on the side of your face, and despite the deep flush painting your chest, and the stray piece of hay itching at your scalp, you find enough courage to ignore it. Opting to prop your chin onto Betty’s shoulder, nuzzling through the curtain of tawny locks precariously curled upon her shoulder.

“Do you know what story he was telling?” Peter’s brows are stitched to his hairline, trapped in a ceaseless spell of intrigue and disbelief. “Please tell me it’s not the piragua bit again. You spill piña colada syrup on your suit one time-”

You don’t bother listening to his dissertation, you’ve heard it one too many times before. You just choose to relish in this very moment.

The warmth of it all — the flash of hope — in your friends, in the buzz of the town at it’s witching hour, in the love of your life. It sits, and festers, and then it blooms In spite of lost summer youth, and wintry whispers of demise, it blooms evermore.

Autumn comes in spite of summer, as winter comes in spite of autumn. So on and so forth, they barrel over one another, taking stock of what came before and persevering in it’s haste. No one season is like the last, but above all else, two things remain true — the seasons start and end with Peter Parker, and autumn never truly feels like autumn until he burns his tongue on hot apple cider.

[temilyrights]

katie!! hii congrats on both completing your second year of uni and 1.4k! hope you're taking a break and resting from all the work right now (:

could i request 🍒 (first impression), 🎸 (song), and 🌸 cyma as aesthetics please (:

hope you have a lovely day bestie <3 (and me running to give you a hug rn)

thank you so much!! i’m so sorry this took so long - went to pack up my uni house, then got very drunk with my best friend, and just got back from staying with my grandad so i’ve been super busy🥲 i hope you’re good! sending all my love and returning your big hug💜

🌸cyma - cast your mutuals as: aesthetics

you as dark academia. late night study sessions. neat handwriting but disorganised journals. a worn leather armchair that welcomes your body perfectly. the smell of old books - full of knowledge and secrets. the safety and warmth of a scarf on a cold winters night. hot coffee. well dressed. warm jumpers. clear night skies with a bright moon. feeling safe. overgrown plants that even if they cause damage you will never cut down. beauty.

@themoontaxi as cottagecore. fresh berries. ice cold lemonade on a hot summers day. lying in the grass and finding figures in the clouds. feeling truly content. running through long grass and feeling free. knowing the mud stains and scrapped knees are worth it as you might have finally found happiness. plants that grew because of love and care. hard work. orange and pink sunsets that fill the sky. so much to do but always stopping to admire. tranquility.

@hotch-girl as y2k. butterflies and jewels. baby pink that you pretend not to love but secretly do. nostalgia but for all the correct reasons. sleepovers with your friends. the feeling of a fresh, thick duvet. candy jewellery. sweet and exciting. friendship that is real. messy room but knowing exactly where every thing is. cats lying in the sun. constantly growing and finding a new version of yourself. mood boards of your future goals. they feel obtainable. confidence.

@ellcsgreenaway as grunge. empty fields with your friends. confessing the secrets you’ve always kept hidden. loud music that vibrates through your body. feeling free for the first time. trusted well worn shoes. ignoring the weights of the world. asking the big questions. city lights. so many possibilities. hidden knowledge. night skies full of stars. fading anger. no promises but there’s a light. hope you work hard to keep. defiance.

@sweetprentiss as soft girl. dreaming about the future. pastel highlighters. loving yourself. a safe space you worked hard to keep. words of affirmation. gentle touches. refusing to lose any femininity. a sunny day after so many cold ones. studying in the grass. watching the sunrise. sinking your feet into warm sand. strawberry lollipops. twinkling fairy lights that welcome you home. personalised journals. coming up for air. optimism.

🍒 i’ll tell you my first impression of you:

i believe i started following you near the beginning of my decent back into the cm fandom, but that could be wrong? idk i just know that i feel like we’ve been moots the entire time🥲 i remember your blog being pretty colours (as it always is), i remember your username made me chuckle. i don’t think i’ve ever told you this but i love it so much! <3

you seemed really nice and interesting! your incorrect quotes were funny and so i had to follow you. i don’t remember being intimidated by you, which is impressive because i’m intimidated by everyone. you were always so friendly and welcoming :) you’re a 10/10 <3

🎸 I'll give you a song I associate with you based purely off vibes:

[deafsignifcantother]

how asa emory communicates with his deaf s/o

♥ summary: his years spent in college never taught him the language he eventually needed the most: pro-tactile asl.

♥ relationships: asa emory x gender neutral deaf reader

♥ word count: 677

♥ warnings: reader is learning pro-tactile asl, reader is verbal, asa is blind, asa talks (once), mentions of dogs

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the warm wool of his winter sweater. His breathing heavies when he feels how close you are. When your touch slowly falls down to his wrists, he acknowledges the signal by placing his hands on yours.

"If you need me, I'll be at the store." You sign into his palm. His other hand rests on your elbow, and he instinctively taps to suggest that he's nodding his head.

He used to be so closed off to people touching him. It was a weird thing to get used to. After months and months of learning the language with you, he also learned to get used to you pushing your hands into his own to start a conversation.

He never went into the class himself. You also never asked him to. You'd gain all the information and teach it to him too, almost as a way of studying.

"Chicken." He signs back. "For the dogs."

You tap his elbow, nodding. When you pull away, you tenderly touch his shoulder, responding verbally while motioning. "I'll be right back."

You had met him while he was in school getting his doctorate. The summer was bright that day. He was sweating. There was a large outdoor space filled with ample trees and minimal benches. So there you sat, near the grass, with one of your friends. The two of you were signing to each other back and forth. Though Asa is a curious man, he could hardly see you at the angle you were. It wasn't until you stood in front of the sun, your blurry figure barely highlighted, did he notice that you and your friend were using sign language to communicate. He paused his walking. The three of you, in a close distance, all noticed each other at once.

He lives a quiet life. There aren't times in class where he will raise his hand to ask a question. There aren't times at home where he will find himself cursing under his breath. He uses his voice on rare occasions. This happened to be one of those situations.

"My apologies," he says. He left before you had the chance to respond.

Now, he reminisces about the memory. He never would have thought that he would have learned the language, too. Or that he'd even encounter you again.

There is a lot of things he learned about moving in with a deaf person. One of them is that you think you are a lot quieter than you actually are. The main part that gets on his nerves is when you slam cupboards. Sometimes, if you're both in the kitchen, he will swiftly put his hand in between the wooden pieces just to ease the contact.

Nothing has ever made him change his mind about deciding to be with you. The fact that you let him pick out your outfits is a major bonus for him. Plus, he tries to be as homely as he can. He'll cook food for you and make the bed every day. He lets you turn the volume on the tv way too loud and he lets you leave your dishes in the sink. It's because he loves you. And he respects you way more than he'd like.

If it were truly his choice, he would put you as the centerpiece in a fine human design. But not everything goes the way he wants. He's in love. It's a human, disturbing emotion. And he is not into the concept of self-sabotaging.

So he keeps you around, letting you buy raw meat for the dogs that you both own, letting you iron his button-up shirts and fold up his socks. He lets you buy him his perferred flavor of jam for those stupid little sandwiches you make him. All because he loves you.

"Asa!" You call, opening the door with a hand filled with bags.

But no matter how much he loves you, he will never take time out of his busy schedule to help you bring in the groceries.

[lottiebagley]

Cardigan- Cedric Diggory

Vintage tee, brand new phone High heels on cobblestones When you are young, they assume you know nothing

She would never forget the very first time she spoke to Cedric Diggory. She had been sorted into Gryffindor and he had been sorted into Hufflepuff, they'd seen each other around and even shared some classes but it was February of first year by the time they ever actually spoke.

She was best friends with George Weasley, she spent every waking moment with the twins, Angelina and Lee. The whole year knew of the little group and how inseparable they truly were, they'd gained the reputation of being funny pranksters and seemed to light up every room they went in.

To Cedric though, it hadn't been the group that lit up the rooms, it had been her. Her bright smile, her loud laughter. There was something about her that Cedric found impossible to ignore and he loved it. He was in an internal battle, on one hand he desperately wanted to speak to her, to know her, to be the reason she was laughing. On the other he was an 11 year old with a crush and was nervous.

He had decided automatically he was glad to talk to her though.

It was Saturday morning and he had been minding his own business, walking through the corridors to go and meet some friends after having been up to library to finish an essay and she had ran straight into him.

"Sorry, oh my merlin, I am so sorry," She speaks quickly, bending down to pick up the papers that she had knocked from her hands

"It's no bother," He smiles politely, his stomach full of butterflies when her hand brushes his. "I'm-"

"Cedric, sorry I'm not a creep I swear, we are in the same Charms class, you sit behind me" She cuts him off, he blushes brightly at her even acknowledging his existence.

"And Herbology," He smiles

"I'm-"

"Y/N, I know," it's her turn to blush and Cedric can feel his heart flip in his chest, she opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by loud footsteps sprinting towards them

"LET'S GO Y/N! FILCH IS COMING!" Cedric isn't sure which twin it is, but they grab her hand and continue running, the girl is quick to join in turning back to shout over her shoulder

"Sorry again Cedric!" she calls, he stands dumbstruck with a look of awe in his eyes as he listens to her laughter grow faint as she rounds the corner.

Sequin smile, black lipstick Sensual politics When you are young, they assume you know nothing

Cedric doesn't work up the courage to speak to his crush again for a while. She simply isn't interested. At 11 years old she cared more for having fun with her friends, by 12 she's beginning to notice boys and sure enough she realises the Hufflepuff boy is cute but thinks nothing of it. At 13 she gets her first boyfriend, he's a Ravenclaw and her best friend hates him.

Cedric has his first kiss, he has girls that admit to fancying him and a few even catch his eye. None last though, because for every time he sees them he also sees her. Smiling and laughing with her friends and looking utterly ethereal.

It's when they're 14 that they next speak. It's their fourth year and Cedric is on his way back from quidditch practice when he hears a faint crying coming from an empty class room.  Being kind to his very core he doesn't think twice about poking his head round the door to see if whoever is in there is okay. It's only the second day of the school year and he expects to find a scared first year.

His heart breaks though at the sight of her. She's crying into her hands and sniffling loudly, seeming to not even notice someone come in.

"Hi," he speaks gently, not wanting to startle her. She look up immediately and the sight twists the knife in his chest. Her eyes are puffy and red rimmed, her makeup streaking on her cheeks. She immediately pulls her hands to her face, trying to wipe her tears away with her hands.

"Hi Cedric," she tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace

"Can I sit?" He questions softly, she nods and he sinks onto the floor next to her, his back against the wall.

"Sorry, I look all gross and snotty," she sighs, he chuckles a little

"You're beautiful," not one part of him is lying or trying to make her feel better. He truly believed her to be the most beautiful thing on the entire planet. "Do you want to talk about it?" he offers

"I-you- we don't know each other I'm not going to make you sit through all my problems,"

"Hey, I offered," He assures, gently placing a hand on her knee and giving it a little squeeze.

"You sure? it's a lot and-"

"I am certain,"

"My boyfriend, well I guess not anymore. He broke up with me because he started talking to Ella McKinley over summer and I really liked him and we've ben together for like seven months and I thought he liked me but obviously not and I can't even talk to my friends about it. Freddie and Lee would find the whole thing hysterical, not because they don't care, they just wouldn't get that it feels like I will never be good enough for anyone. Angelina is friends with Ella and I don't want to make things awkward for her. And Georgie, he's the best friend on the planet and he would do anything to make me happy but he was right the whole time and I can't bare the look of pity and he will just know that he was right but he won't say it because I am a pathetic, crying mess. Plus, Fred and George will go and try and fight him and everyone will talk about it and I just wish that I was enough cause I really liked him," She rants with tears streaming down her cheeks and Cedric wants nothing more than to take her pain and put in on himself a 1000 times before she ever has to feel it.

"Hey, you look at me," He prompts, gently moving her face from where she's staring at her lap to face him. "You are so much more than enough. You're beautiful, truly I mean that. And you are so funny and kind, I've never heard a soul speak badly of you, plus I'm in half your classes and you are at the top of all of them so clearly you are smart. Alex Mayfield is stupid for ever letting you go and I promise you he will regret it,"

She doesn't even think twice before diving into his chest to hug him, his heart warms in his chest as he holds her to him, stroking her back gently.

But I knew you Dancing in your Levi's Drunk under a streetlight, I

"Cedric?" Her voice sounds shy, three days later as she approaches his large friend group as they all laugh and chat in the courtyard. His friends all make loud 'oohs' at the girl approaching their friend, knowing he has had a crush on her forever.

He jumps to his feet immediately, only making his friends tease him more. "Hey, is everything alright?" He asks, it's been two days since he found her crying and he hadn't seen her around since.

"Yeah, yeah everything is fine. I just wanted to say thank you for the other day," She smiles gently and his heart melts that she had seeked him out rather than just saying it in whatever class they next saw each other.

"Oh of course, it was nothing," He smiles

"Well, i just, sorry that I cried all over you and- I- well it's embarrassing and you were so sweet so thanks," she blushes madly under his gaze

"It's fine, if ever I can do anything just let me know. Or if you need someone to talk to, I'm always around,"

"Thanks, and the same to you of course," She smiles and he nods. Neither of them can pull their eyes away from each other until Fred and George, who are waiting a small distance away let out loud barks of laughter at their friend's clear crush. "Right, well I should get going, have a good day," She smiles politely before turning around. He isn't quite sure what comes over him when he calls out to her

"Wait!" she turns immediately at his shout "You, uh, wouldn't want to be partners on that new Care of Magical Creatures assignment would you?" They had been assigned it on the first day, and it was a partnered essay and research task on Mooncalf's due in at the end of the month.

"Yeah I'd love that,"

"Great, I'll meet you in the library. Could you do tomorrow night right after classes finish?"

"Yeah, I'll see you there," She agrees, blushing slightly as she turns to walk back to the twins. Both Cedric and Emily's friends immediately begin to tease them but when she turns back to look at him and catches him already staring after her neither of them seem to care.

I knew you Hand under my sweatshirt Baby kiss it better, right

'You know, now that we have completed this ridiculously long essay we should celebrate. Hogsmeade? this Saturday?'

He had asked so casually, like it was easy. When in reality it had taken him a week to build up the nerve. She nodded, acting like her heart wasn't hammering inside her chest.

But now, as he waits at a table in the three broomsticks, he feels more anxious than he can even explain. She walks in, smiling brightly when she sees him, sat at a table with two butterbeers, and she seems so calm it puts his jittery leg at ease.

"Hey Ced,"

"Hi darling," He grins, watching her slide into the booth seat opposite him

"Am I late? Fred forced me to go to Zonko's with him, swore it'd only be two minutes but it was a lot longer," she explains

"No, I was early is all," He smiles, pushing the drink lightly in her direction

"Thanks," She grins, planning in her head to buy the next round. "So, good day so far?"

"Made better by you," he returns, he'd expected to feel awkward and nervous but in reality something about her felt so right, so natural.

"Well of course, clearly I am the highlight of your day every time you see me," She teases lightly

"Well I'm the same for you,"

"You are," She confirms. He beams at her and her heart somersaults in her chest. "How have we only just become friends this year?" She ponders

"I don't know, it feels like I have known you forever," He smiles

"Yeah it does. I guess that's just how it is with some people,"

"You know what they call those people? Soulmates," He teases and smiles a little when her cheeks flush a bright red

"If you are my soulmate Diggory, I could do a lot worse,". It was true, she felt like he could so easily be that one person she was supposed to meet. He was natural, he was charming, he was funny, he made her feel so at ease. She never had to be someone else, never had to think for a second about what she said. Cedric just got her and it was the best thing she had ever experienced.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone's bed You put me on and said I was your favourite

"Ced!" She's positively beaming as she stands on Hogsmeade platform after the Christmas holiday's. Pushing her way through the crowd towards the boy and leaping into his arms, he catches her with ease, rearranging his hands a little to hold her up better, her legs wrapping around his waist. His friends pay them no mind as they walk towards the carriages knowing they will see him at dinner and he would much rather have a minute alone with her.

"What're you doing here?" he chuckles

"I missed you," she shrugs

"I missed you too, but I could have just seen you at school, you didn't have to come and pick me up from the station," He smiles at her and she blushes a little. She had spent her holiday at school with the Weasley's as Molly and Arthur were in Bulgaria with Charlie and she hadn't wanted to miss out on her friends antics.

"Yeah, but if I had done that then I would have had to wait until after the welcome back feast and it would have been ages," She explains

"Well in that case, I'm glad you came. I really missed you darling," He smiles, gently placing her back onto the ground

"I missed you too, I was actually thinking a lot when you were gone-" she admits

"That's dangerous," he teases, laughing when she gently swats his arm

"I was thinking that I think I like you, as in more than a friend. No. I know, I like you as more than a friend and I have for a while now and I just wanted you to know that I do.  You don't have to like me back and if you don't then I don-"

She's cut off when he slams his lips against hers. Pulling her flush against him. He kisses her with so much passion and longing that she doesn't doubt for a second that he likes her just as much. He smirks when he pulls away and her lips chase his to press another quick peck to them.

"I like you too, I have for an embarrassingly long amount of time, I just didn't want to rush you after what happened with Alex,"

"You could never rush me, it's you," she smiles and he feels his heart leave his body and fall right into her hands.

"So, you wanna go on a real date?" he questions, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as he begins to lead her towards the carriages back up to school.

"I would love that," She grins

"In that case, I will pick up tomorrow at 8," He announces, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as they walk.

A friend to all is a friend to none Chase two girls, lose the one When you are young, they assume you know nothing

"I have just had the most awkward interaction of my life," She announces, walking into his dorm to find him sat at his desk. She drops onto his bed as he turns to look at her

"Hi darling," He smiles

"Hey," she grins back, eyes unable to pull away from his

"None of this romantic gooey shit, what happened?" Cedric's best friend, Justin, questions from his own desk. The pair clearly having been doing work before she arrived.

"Right," she nods, pulling her eyes away from Cedric as she tugs her Gryffindor tie off her neck and settles more comfortably on his bed. "So, i'm walking with George, Fred and Lee out of detention,  planning on coming here and they were heading into town to pick up some supplies from Zonko's so we are walking, minding our own business and then out of literally no where Alex pops out,"

"As in your ex-boyfriend?" Justin question, fully immersed in her story. She glances at Cedric who's jaw is a little tight, but softens when their eyes meet.

"Yeah so he comes over and asks to talk to me, and you can imagine Lee and Fred think it's fucking hilarious and George looks ready to pummel the boy, which is nothing new he's always hated him,"

"Likes me," Cedric comments slightly cockily, he knew from the off that it was important George liked him.

"He does. So anyway, I'm like Sorry I am in a rush to meet my boyfriend, which only seems to make him want to speak to me more. So he's all like how long have you and Cedric been together and I'm like officially 2 months. And he asks like a million questions about us and then tries to invite me to Hogsmeade and I was like obviously not, at this point George hits him and then we just kinda ran away. It was just very uncomfy and awkward,"

Cedric looks like he is absolutely fuming, Justin on the other hand is laughing at the awkward situation. Cedric is, of course, glad that she immediately told him but was ready to hunt the stupid boy down and finish what George started. He stands up to do just that but stops when she grabs his hand and pulls him to sit next to her, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He sighs, his thumb stroking the back of her hand, knowing that she's asking him to leave it be.

But I knew you Playing hide-and-seek and Giving me your weekends

"Hey, do you guys know where y/n is?" Cedric questions Angelina and Lee when he sees them sat in the library

"Thought she was with you," Angelina shrugs, looking to Lee who looks equally surprised to see Cedric without his girlfriend wrapped in his arm

"She was, we were playing hide and seek but it's been like forty minutes and I can't find her,"

"She'll be in the broom cupboard next to Filch's office. She always hides there when we play," Lee comments

"Great, thanks," with a grin Cedric disappears out of the library and in the direction of Filch's office. He sends polite smiles and waves to friends he passes but doesn't stop for a chat, missing his girl's presence and wanting her back by his side.

He arrives at the cupboard, pulling the door open and stepping in. It was a deep cupboard filled with clutter and her giggle sounds through the air when he trips on a bucket, hand reaching out from the darkness to steady him.

He  reaches out and pulls her into his chest, arms wrapping around her and pulling her into him.

"Found you,"

"Took your precious time," she smirks,

"It's a big castle," He reminds, pressing his lips down onto hers, she kisses back immediately, arms looping around his neck as his grip her waist, tucking slightly under the jumper she's wearing that clearly belongs to him and is too big for her, his thumb stroking gently on the skin of her hips.

She pulls away, breathless and grinning up at him and if he had thought he was in love before he was certain of it now. When she looked so pure, so beautiful, so ethereal how could he not be? the truth was he had been falling for her since first year but his five months with her made it all the more real. He wasn't just in love with an idealistic version of her he had made up in his head, it was the real her. The her that only he knew.

"Which of my friends told you?"

"You underestimate my seeking skills," He feigns offence, and she laughs at his dramatics

"It was Angelina right? The boys would never help you cheat,"

"It was. Now, given I've found you I think I am entitled to a reward, winners choice," He smirks and she grins brightly

"At what might that be?"

"Cuddles," He announces

"We need to study," she counters

"Nope, not on a weekend. Cuddle me in my dorm please. You can't say no, I found you," He grins, he knows though, that she wouldn't say no anyway.

I, I knew you Your heartbeat on the High Line Once in twenty lifetimes, I

They lay under the stars in the astronomy tower Cedric was certain that this, this very moment, was the highlight of his life. When all was said and done she would be it. She would be what made it all worth it.

"You okay?" She asks, nudging her head into his chest gently as she lay on him

"I'm perfect. Are you?" he questions, looking down at her laid on her front between his legs, arms wrapped around his waist and head on his chest

"I am," she grins, moving her head to rest her chin on his chest and look up at him "you're quiet," she comments

"I'm thinking," He returns gently, eyes holding hers and arms wrapping around her, holding her tightly too him

"and here I was thinking you were just a pretty boy," she teases, he laughs and she would swear on anything that lit up by the moonlight Cedric Diggory was a god amongst men. "So pretty boy, what are you thinking about?"

"You," he grins

"Nothing new," she jokes, he rolls his eyes but says nothing, after all she isn't wrong.

"Do you think everyone gets to feel like this?" he questions, she tilts her head to the side silently asking him to explain what he means. "I just- it sounds crazy but this feels so much bigger than just love. Like I can't even describe, it doesn't even feel once in a lifetime it feels once in a million lives. I can't put into words how I feel for you, I more than love you, I so much more than love you,"

"I so much more than love you too," She smiles, leaning up to press her lips against his, he kisses back and it's so soft and so gentle yet somehow needy and passionate all at once. Every kiss they share felt amazing but they would both swear that was the best.  "And no, I don't think everyone gets this, I think we are incredibly lucky to have found each other,"

He smiles pulling her closer to him pressing a kiss to the top of her head and his heart has never been more full.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone's bed You put me on and said I was your favourite

"So, tell me how your summer was?" She grins at him as they make their way down the train in search of her friend's compartment

"I was with you for most of it," He teases. They had spent the first two weeks at her house and then second two at his before she had gone to spend the final two at the burrow.

"I haven't seen you in 14 whole days Ced," she reminds

"My life is entirely boring without my favourite person," he smiles, chuckling at the blush that overtakes her cheeks. She presses a kiss to his cheek before pulling open the compartment door

"There they are, we were starting to think you were never coming," Angelina smiles, jumping up from her seat to pull her friend into a hug

"Sorry, we got caught up talking to Justin," The girl explains

"Ah, so that's what the kids are calling it," Fred jokes, laughing at the bright blush that over takes both of their faces. "Well, I was kidding but-"

"Shut up Fred!" She groans, dropping into a seat as Cedric settles down next to her, talking happily with George about their summer breaks.

To kiss in cars and downtown bars Was all we needed You drew stars around my scars But now I'm bleeding

Their fifth year passes insanely quickly. It's full of laughter and happiness. They don't have drama like most of their friends in relationships, they understand each other on such a level that truly there's no need to argue because no matter what the other does they understand. Understand exactly why the other has behaved in the way that they had so there was no point in getting mad.

From trips to Hogsmeade, parties, studying and evenings in the prefects bathroom they saw each other every day. Adopting each other's friends as their own. All they needed was each other and they were having a good time. They were connected at their very cores and the whole school seemed to know it.

"Okay, never have I ever lost my virginity in the prefects bathroom," Angelina smirks, the Gryffindor friends are sat around the boys dorms with bottles of fire whiskey on the final evening of term, joined as was common now, by Cedric and Justin.

Cedric sits next to her, his hand resting on her thigh and her head on his shoulder as they both blush a little before drinking.

"You told me it was in your dorm cause you were classy!" Lee exclaims, pointing at her with wide eyes.

"If you believed she was classy it's on you Lee," Fred teases, laughing loudly when she launches a pillow across the room and it hit's him with ease.

"Never have I ever said I love you just to get laid," Justin states, smirking when both Fred and Lee take sips of the drinks.

"Mum will be disappointed," George teases

"Would be, will makes it sound like you plan on telling her,"

"I'll have it up my sleeve for if I need to redirect the rath on someone else,"

"Hey, we always put it on Ron," Fred whines, the rest of the group laughing as they didn't doubt for a second that was true.

"Never have I ever skinny dipped in the black lake," George grins, the group erupting in laughter when Fred drinks

"Okay 1 it was a dare and 2 you aren't allowed to target people, in this game"

"Oh, because never have I ever accidentally grabbed the wrong person's hand wasn't targeted," George quips back.

'Cause I knew you Stepping on the last train Marked me like a bloodstain, I

"I just think that you're being stupid," she admits, she is sat cross legged on his bed as he paces his dorm

"This is something I really want to do, it means a lot to me. The money could really help my family out and I really think this is something I could excel in," Cedric explains, he isn't mad. He knew  that she was only concerned because she cared and therefore he would never be mad at her for it, he also knew she loved and supported him unconditionally and that wether she agrees with him or not that wouldn't waver.

"It's reckless Ced, people die in this tournament and I just hate the idea of you doing this cause all your friends have told you how cool it'll be and something happens to you,"

"Hey, nothing will happen to me. I'm not stupid and I know my own limits, you can pull out of any round at any time and if I think I can't do it I won't stay in a dangerous situation," he assures her, sitting down next to her and taking her hands in his.

"I know, I just want you safe,"

"Darling, you don't have to worry for a second. I promised you forever and I am going to give you it," he assures her, pulling her hands to his mouth and pressing kisses on her knuckles.

"Okay. If it means a lot to you then obviously I support you, just promise me you aren't going anywhere,"

"I promise," He agrees.

And so, with his friends behind them and wrapped up in his arms, his promise of forever fresh in her mind she goes with him to drop his name into the goblet of fire, pushing away the feeling in her gut that this was the worst mistake they'd ever make.

I knew you Tried to change the ending Peter losing Wendy

Cedric feels his breath stop when he sees her. She looks like an angel, standing at the top of the stairs beaming down at him. The pale blue satin of her dress pooling delicately around her feet and her hair curled and pinned back.

"You look so beautiful," he smiles as she reaches for his arm at the bottom of the stairs

"So do you," She smiles, and she meant it, in his black dress robes she wonders how she's supposed to breathe when he looks so good. "Ced?"

"Yes, darling?" he looks down at her as they stand in the line with the other victors. His smile so pure and delicate and a look of adoration in his eyes, not one person looking at them would question the love he held for her.

"These heels are really high, please don't let me trip and fall and make an idiot of myself,"

"I've got you darling, I promise," he smiles, pressing a kiss to the side of her head as the doors swing open and along with the rest of the victors and their dates they parade to the dance floor.

And he did have her. They danced and he made sure she was okay the whole time. They danced the whole night, wether the song was fast or slow, they were attached in someway and staring at each other so purely and utterly in love. It was the best night of either of their lives and although they didn't say it, both of them thought as they slow danced about the day they would get to do this at their wedding.

I, I knew you Leaving like a father Running like water, I When you are young, they assume you know nothing

Cedric is panting and red from the cold water as he collapses onto the platform, having pushed her onto it first. He feels for the first time since he saw her floating lifeless at the bottom of the lake that he can breathe again as he sees her appear fine.

He blocks out the screaming crowds, his victory although exciting, nowhere near as important to him as the girl.

She however, seems utterly over the moon, pouncing on him and tackling him on the pier in the tightest hug he'd ever received.

"You did it Ced! You won!" She grins brightly, he's vaguely aware of the twins wrapping them both in towels but doesn't care. Nothing else in the world matters as he grabs her face in his hands, pressing his lips to hers and the whole world floats away, and it's just her and him.

She pulls away eventually, seemingly remembering the crowd's of people watching, he doesn't care though, wrapping his arm around her as his friend's push through the crowds to congratulate him. He doesn't let go of his grip on her for even a second, he wanted her to be a part of this, without her he could never have won, seeing her lifeless and floating had triggered something in him he didn't even know existed. He'd have done whatever it took to save her.

but I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs The smell of smoke would hang around this long 'Cause I knew everything when I was young

The day of the last trial she woke up with a gut feeling something bad was going to happen. She said nothing though, not wanting to panic Cedric.

She woke up wrapped in his arms and she almost asked him to stay in bed for just five more minutes. Just to hold her for a little while longer, looking back she would always regret not asking for that. Instead, she had sat wrapped in his duvet, watching as he got ready and listening patiently as he spoke, muttering every spell he could think of in a mindless preparation, no idea what he would actually need when he started.

She sat next to him at breakfast, holding his hand under the table in an attempt to calm him down, he was trying to act confident for his excited friends but she saw right through it. She only left his side for a brief moment all morning, to wish Harry Potter, a young boy she knew well due to her close relationship with the Weasley's, good luck.

"You should go and meet your dad to walk to the victor's area," she speaks softly, they're in an empty corridor, wanting a moment of privacy.

"You'll be down there?" he questions

"Of course I will," she assures. He nods, wrapping his arms around her waist as hers wrap around his neck. He nestles his face in her as her fingers comb gently through his hair.

"I'm scared," he whispers

"I know," she replies gently, pulling away only enough to look him in the eyes "Whatever happens, wether you come first or drop out after a minute, I am so beyond proud of you Ced,"

"Thankyou," He hums gently

"You be safe alright, you promised me forever,"

"I never break my promises," he assures her, his lips find hers in a final passionate kiss.

"I so much more than love you," she whispers against him

"I so much more than love you," he returns, pressing a quick peck to her lips, squeezing her tight one last time before letting go.

She sits next to George, her leg bouncing and hands shaking as she leans on his shoulder. She watches as he talks to his dad. It feels like the world is going in slow motion as he stands outside the entrance to the maze, eyes scanning the crowd until they fall on her. She can see from a mile away that he seems to ease slightly at the sight of her, sending her a smile before turning and entering the maze.

I knew I'd curse you for the longest time Chasing shadows in the grocery line I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired And you'd be standing in my front porch light

She knew she would never forget the moment it happened. The pure joy and adrenaline, the excitement because he had won. Cedric had won. Followed by the panic, because he isn't moving and why isn't he moving? why is Harry crying and-

The world stopped. Right there. Right then. The world stops spinning on it's axis.

She would never forget the feeling of George's hands pulling her back and into his chest, refusing to let her turn and see it. See his limp body on the ground and lifeless. She'd never forget the sound of Amos's cries. She would never forget Harry's screams.

Her very world stopped.

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak.

George Weasley would never forget the moment either. The ache in his chest that his friend had died. The sound of her sobs, so guttural and heart wrenching that they take over her whole body.  The feeling of his best friend shaking in his arms and the pained scream that leaves her mouth.

She was vaguely aware of the feeling of George lifting her off the ground and carrying her away from the crowds. Vaguely aware of him placing her on her bed. Without thinking she moved to grab one of Cedric's jumpers from her wardrobe, crying even harder when his smell takes over her as she pulls it on, dropping to her knees unable to even stand. George drops down next to her, pulling her into his chest in a tight hug as she cries into his chest.

And I knew you'd come back to me You'd come back to me And you'd come back to me And you'd come back

George Weasley had felt his heart drop when he had read the letter from his old head of house, a desperate plea to come to the school immediately and he had dropped everything to do just that.

His best friend was never the same after Cedric. Not even 10 years after at the age of 27. He wasn't who he used to be either, he had lost his second half. But he worried more for her. Her smile hadn't met her eyes since she was 17. He hadn't heard her laugh since she was 17.

Despite it all she never spoke to George, to anyone, about it. She left a room when he was mentioned. She refused to open up. It was clear even now he was the only thing she thought about. She refused though, to talk about him.

She hadn't dated again until she was 25, settling for a quiet boy who didn't get the chance to fall in love with her, because truly she wasn't her. She was numb, a shadow of herself and he didn't even know it.

As George pushed open the door to the prefects bathroom, he knew it would be another moment he would never forget. Like her scream, his Fred's body on the ground, like Angelina telling him we would be a father.

She was sat, fully clothed, in the large bubble bath. Silent tears streamed down her face and George could only describe the look on her face as numb.

"He proposed," She announces. George doesn't know how to react. He knew she would never fall in love again, that in reality she would never want this. Because it wasn't him.

"What did you say?"

"No," She whispers out, George lets out a sigh, he doesn't think twice as he climbs into the water next to her, ignoring that it's ruining his suit as he pulls her into him.

"George, I can't do this. He promised me forever, it was supposed to be him," She's crying into his shoulder and George knows nothing he says will take the pain away. "He was the love of my life. I didn't just love him, it was more than that. It wasn't once in a lifetime it was different it was special it was-" she cuts herself off, not knowing the words to describe it. She had never needed them before, Cedric had known without her having to say.

"I know. We all know. Everyone could see it,"

"I know what people must think. He was my high school boyfriend and I should move on but Georgie- I can't. It was him and it is him and he promised he would come back,"

"No one thinks that. You were young but the heavens know you were in love,"

"He was everything. He still is. He always will be,"

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favourite

**

Masterlist

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 30

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L  Warnings: Language, angst, meeting new characters Important Question: do you guys prefer shorter or longer chapters? also, I listened to first love / late spring by Mitski for this ch if anyone else wants to listen along!

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 30: Like a Tall Child

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Remus was alone for the trip back to King’s Cross; not wanting to be stuck with James or Peter who would only pester him. He mulled over his thoughts as his head rested against the window, watching the scenery whip by. But the more he had time to think, it caused more guilt to build; they were only trying to be supportive. They cared so much, still willing to associated with someone like… him. And all he did was push them away. He didn’t deserve real mates like them.

Remus tried to distract himself: knitting, drawing — reading next year’s material, but settled on pulling out his cartridge of cigarettes. About to light one, his attention was drawn to the soft knocking on the carriage door. Lily was there, waving before coming in.

“Hey,” she said, closing the door and sitting down. “I wanted to say bye for the summer.”

He exhaled, now itching for the rush of nicotine while Lily fidgeted in her seat. He already knew why she was there.

“Sev — Snape — came to me a couple days ago…”

It was impossible to escape, wasn’t it?

“They’re mad, his theories… He’s been telling me the entire year and kept going on about this one story… wild story of you and Y/N and the other Marauders…” Lily looked up nervously.

Instead of getting angry, Remus closed his eyes, feeling himself sink further into the cushions, centring his breathing. “What did he say?”

“He’s been telling me you’re a… a...”

“Werewolf?”

She froze at the word, having to take a deep inhale and suddenly looked paler than usual. Remus wanted to jump out of the moving train. “Yes,” she stated, “But I told him to bugger off.”

Lily stopped again, meeting his eyes. “So… It’s true?”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

Lily sat straight, leaning over and even putting a hand on her chest, close to her heart. “I’ll take it to the grave.”

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(Letters between Y/N and friends)

To my lovely Whiskers, I hope your summer has been grand so far. Are you sure you can’t spend time with me? It’s been so lonely. Prongs

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Dear Bambi, Unfortunately, I can’t. Mom’s dragging me to New York for the month. Something about being invited to do a special surgery. Said leaving me alone will do no good. I promise to bring you back a souvenir? How are things with Black? Whiskers

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My adoring, wonderful Whiskers, And it hasn’t. My parents are concerned. They’ve been trying to get me to talk about what happened but I can’t. Dumbledore and McGonagall have already started their punishments. He lost over 200 points for next year, got detention for half the year and he can’t try out for the Quidditch team if he wanted to. I wonder what they’ll do next. I love souvenirs! All things Muggle! Yours truly, Prongs/Bambi/James

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July 20th, 1976 Meet me in Times Square at 1 pm on the 8th. There’s a bench outside a bagel store, there’s no way you’ll miss it. Until next time, Matthew G.

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¡Hola! Greetings from Barcelona! My brothers took a few weeks off to spend time with me to come to Spain with my parents! They’re dragging me to a football game later. I heard they call it ‘soccer’ in North America. M. McKinnon

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Y/N L/N, Hello, I hope you’re having a wonderful break. Your letters are the highlight of my day and they keep me busy. So I hate to inform you that you need to stop sending me letters for now. I’m not supposed to be getting any and my parents are going to start confiscating them if I receive any more. I’m sorry. I can’t wait to see you in the fall. R.A.B

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I’m visiting Tuney with my parents in a few days. She moved to London for a clerical job in March and we’re meeting her boyfriend, Vernon! He sounds nice but she’s told me she’s nervous about me and magic around him. Lily

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Petals! I’m sure you’ll be fine! Who couldn't love you? Write back and tell me what happens!

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Whiskers, I’m with my parents up in Wales in their cottage. I was born there before having to move for my Dad’s work. Also, I think I have to get a rabbit. James always told people that I got my scars from a poorly behaved rabbit and if I’m not seen with one soon, people will start to question. Remus

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Does this mean I get to call you Moony now? Professor Moony? Wales? And that’s where that small accent comes from. It bleeds through when you’re concentrating or relaxing. And a rabbit? At least they’re cute! I’m sure you can just Transfigure a book though. Y/N

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Professor Moony? Haha, okay! And really? I never knew. I’m kind of embarrassed now. I’ve thought about that but at this point, I think it would be easier just to have one.

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Oh no! It’s nice! Gives you personality. I think it suits you well How about… Moody Moony near full moons? And Moody Moony Mondays on Mondays.

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Now you’ve gone too far. Bloody fucking Moody Moony? Have you ever heard of Mad-Eye Moody?

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Would you prefer 'my Moony' then?

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Yes, actually.

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August 6th, 1976

“Hurry up!”

She thudded down from the top of the staircase, dragging her trunk behind while her mother sped out of the terminal door, flagging down one of the zipping yellow taxis with her luggage in hand.

It was strange, being with her mother again after almost a year apart. She hadn’t come to King’s Cross again, instead sending her a bus fare in anticipation of school ending. She hoped for some sort of recognition, any kind of sign that she was missed but was only given a side-armed hug and delved back into work.

Y/N wondered if maybe she just didn’t want her there, hoping she would get lost and never come back. She only had been on a bus in London twice, therefore almost ensuring that she would get lost and would have stayed lost if she didn’t have extra spare change to use a payphone.

Ignoring the crackle of whispers as she strode to the cab, people blatantly stared at her unnatural coloured hair, as she entered the car, slamming the door shut.

“Where ya ladies off too?” Said the driver, pulling out a map from their car door.

“Cranberry Street, Brooklyn Heights.”

It was a quiet drive, aside from the driver drumming their fingers on the steering wheel at the sound of the Bee Gees blasting in the background. She watched other cabs whipping back and forth, people going on with their days, the dirty streets and building under construction.

“Hey, mom?” She asked, reasoning now was a good time to talk about her OWL results. She’d gotten them mere seconds before leaving their house back in London and she’d been putting off looking at the results until now.

She only grunted, flicking through one of her medical journals, jotting down notes. “I don’t have time right now.”

Y/N sighed, that familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach expanded again. “It’s kind of important.”

“Not now.” She waved her hand and ended the conversation.

Thirty minutes later, the cab came to a stop as they grabbed their luggage and strolled up to the brownstone building they were renting for the month.

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Jet lag got to her as she unwinded lounged until finally getting up from bed that morning as her mom rushed around the house. She frantically was putting on shoes, dressed impeccably sharp, no doubt in hopes to make an impression as her eyes flew across her journal. Her feet were scrambling to the door as she flung her bag over her shoulder.

“Have a good d —” And then the door slammed shut.

She stared blankly at the door for a while and then turned around, getting ready for her day. A daint drum of excitement yet nervousness built up, pushing aside that sinking feeling. Today she was going to see Matthew again.

Having a few hours to spare, Y/N walked around, marvelling at the tall buildings and lights before heading into the heart of Time Square, immediately spotting the bench outside the bagel shop. She sat, waiting for him anxiously. She made sure to wear a hat, covering any sight of hair to avoid weird stares and chatter.

But then a few minutes turned into ten and then twenty minutes later.

Slipping out the letter again to make sure, she re-read it. Time Square, at one, today… near the bagel shop…

“Where y’at?”

Her head lifted as she jumped to her feet and pulled each other into a tight hug.

“Matthew!”

His face nuzzled into the side of her neck, arms wrapped around tight as her face pressed gently into his chest. Eventually, she pulled away - arms outstretched to get a good look.

Matthew Gaplin looked different. His hair, coarse and thick, had grown. He was taller, filled out more, tan skin became even tanner from the beating sun and he filled out.

His smile was large. “S’been so long.”

She gave him a small whack!

“Ow!” He jumped back, “What’s wrong wiv ya?”

“I thought you stood me up.”

“Sorry, doing something for Mom. Had to wait on line forever.”

He looked down bashfully, now staring at the hat. His face made a disgusted look. “It’s disgusting out. Why are you wearing —” Curiously lifting the hat, his lids widened astronomically as Y/N grabbed it, covering her wild hair.

“I told you,” she hissed.

“Right the Potter sport!” He gave a full-body laugh. “Oh come on, I wanna see it again!”

But her hand clamped down on that hat to prevent him from pulling it off. “No! The Muggles keep judging —“

“Muggles?” Matthew’s brows furrowed. “The fuck is a Muggle? Sounds… demeaning.”

“Sorry, it’s what they call No-Majs.”

“Ahh,” and then he moved to loop an arm around her shoulders and continued to walk. “Too good to use ol’American terms?”

“Turned British snob.”

They laughed loudly as he took charge, showing her around the city. There was something so calming amid the chaos of New York. The bustle, low chatter and his enthusiasm made it all the better.

Soon enough, after hours of walking around, they both came to a stop in a large park as they grew hungry. Matthew disappeared for a while, leaving her alone to lay down on the soft grass before returning, holding up a brown bag with two drinks.

“Got us bagels wiv schmear.”

She mumbled out a thanks and took it from him as he sat down on the grass beside her.

“Missed ya, really.”

She shoved him playfully, his head dropping bashfully. “Shut up.”

It stayed quiet for a bit, as they listened to the birds chirping until he broke the silence again. “Ya thinkin’ ‘bout moving back eventually, right?”

“Why?”

Matthew gave her a haughty look, contemplating his words carefully. “Do ya… not know? They’re losing the war.”

Momentary terror gripped her heart but she swallowed it down fast. “Matthew,” her voice dropped, “Please, I want a fun summer… can we not talk about the war? I have more than enough time to worry later."

He wanted to keep talking, worried for his good friend but he refrained, biting down on his lip and nodded stiffly.

“So…” he thought to himself, contemplating how to change the direction of their conversation and fast. “Fess up, what’s been goin’ on over there.”

“Huh?”

“You’re telling me you haven't — what is it called? Kissing?”

“Snogging?”

He smiled. “You’re telling me you haven’t snogged anyone of those rich Old-Majs yet?”

“Nope!” She spoke too quickly and voice was a little too high.

“Liar. Ya going tell me who then?” Y/N looked down, hand going to fiddle with the fem of her clothes while Matthew shook her. “Come on! Tell me!”

“Fine! His name is Sirius Black.”

Matthew's eyes widened in recognition as he sat upright. “You don’t mean the Black family? Gawd! No way!”

“What?”

“And ya don’t even know!” Matthew was full of amusement. “They’re one of the oldest wizarding families out there! Are you still wiv him?”

Y/N stopped, trying to conceal a chuckle. She didn’t have it in her to lie anymore. “No! He almost got me killed.”

“Ha. Ha, very clever. Fine, don’t tell me.”

“You? Anything exciting?”

Matthew snorted. “Fought over a fin if that counts as exciting.”

“You know that’s not what I'm talking about,” she teased.

He abruptly became very serious and it had Y/N sitting up straighter. Matthew breathed in, this time not looking at her but instead at his metal pop can. “I’ve… had a tumble wiv a few... didn’t matter their… genders.”

It took a second for his words to click in but when it did, her mouth fell open and saw his face fall as she pulled him into a tight hug. “I don’t care who you cop, just be safe and have fun.”

He mumbled into her shoulder. “Been rehearsing that since I knew you were visitin’.”

“Love ya, could never judge you.” He tried to look insulted from the babying but prickled with tears before wiping them away quickly.

“Bless ya!”

“You alright though?”

“Now that I know your reaction, never betta. Now, you talk, enough ‘bout me.”

After making sure he was okay, Y/N prattled about Hogwarts. Matthew would pop in a few times, asking her to clarify or ask what words the British used — he often called her his ‘British insight.’ She rambled much about her day, her new friends but made sure to leave out a few details. Matthew became peculiarly silent through most of her speech. It wasn’t like him to not try to speak up, but he looked at her with something she’d only seen a few times prior.

Matthew stared at her for a long time, analyzing with underlying adoration. “What did them Brits do to ya?”

She looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “Ya sound different.” He says calmly, going to sip on his pop. “Talk funny.”

“Tawk funny,” she mocked and earned a shove. “Different? How so?”

“Everything ‘bout you seems different. Y’look happier,” he smiles, although there was a twinge of hurt. “Talk softer, look different — move differently and ya voice sounds different… but the same.”

She takes a bit of her food. “I hope that isn’t a bad thing.”

Matthew smiles gently, sheepish but there. “Not at all.”

She smiled back. Matthew always knew how to make her smile and it felt good, normal.

“Happy looks good on ya.”

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She finally sat down, tired from the long day she spent wandering the city. But it wasn’t long until a tapping sound came from the window. Celeste was there, waiting with a letter in her beak. She walked up to her, letting her fly inside and opened the letter.

Got my OWL results. Outstanding in Astronomy, DADA, Charms, Transfigs. Exceeds Expectations in everything else but an Acceptable in Potions. Moony

She re-read that last part. Remus getting Acceptable in Potions? Her attention travelled to the stark white envelope peeking out from the side pocket of her carry-on. She marched up to it, ripping it open and scanned the paper.

Outstanding in Transfiguration, Potions and Herbology, Arithmancy. Exceeds Expectations in everything else except Poor in History of Magic. She cringed at that.

She immediately got up from her seat. Rushing over to the master bedroom, peeking her head in. “Mom?” She said quietly, “Can I talk to you.”

“Didn’t I tell you I was busy?” Her voice cut through. “It’s not the time to be a nuisance.”

A scorching feeling of anger thrummed through her but kept her voice low and steady. “That was a few days ago.”

"My answer didn't change."

Any semblance of calm vanished. “It’s about my OWLs. My future. I need some sort of guidance.”

“I wouldn’t understand them,” she sighed and peered up. There was an odd expression, borderlining on confusion and something else. “It’s not the same. I’m not a… witch like you are. I don’t know how to help you.”

“I’ll make it into No-Maj terms?” Y/N’s voice was tight and came rushing over to where she sat on the couch. And laid out her examination results. “Look, an O is the same as getting an A! It’s the highest grade you can get. And here,” she pointed, “My teacher, Professor Slughorn, invites me to parties because of my work in Potions class. I’m one of his top students.”

She glanced at her mom excitedly but was met with a look of annoyance and slight judgement. But she continued, “A-and in Herbology I'm doing excellent too! I was becoming interested in becoming a Healer. I told you in my letters. It’s similar to being —”

“I’m sorry,” her mother said but it didn’t have any trace of guilt or sorrow, “I’m busy and you’re getting in the way of work — my achievements — that you know are important.”

“Are mine not important?”

A thick, profound silence filled the space between them. Everything about the connotation had her averting her body, feeling the sinking in her chest explode. From the war, traumatic near death experience and her mother's constant aloof nature, it was her cracking point.

Snatching the OWLs results, she walked out the door, shutting it gently before diving into her room; throwing the covers over her head.

All the New-Maj and No-Maj children were told stories of the Boogeyman. To Y/N, it felt comparable to reverting to a small child as she tucked herself into a tight ball. She recalled watching all the other children running up their parents, being roped with large hugs and smiles, surrounded with infinite quantities of love as they left the school playground. She remembered being envious, wanting to have two parents as the images of the Boogeyman drew near.

There was an overwhelming sense to scream — to cry out for guidance as the knot in her stomach grew. Instead of her mother coming to her rescue — to reassure, to give any sense of security or safety while other parents would scare off the Boogeyman or monsters ready to nip at their children’s toes under the bed, Y/N was left in the dark as all sense of relief or love vanished. It left her vulnerable, exposed to the monsters lurking in the dark.

Her mother may have not been physically absent but it sure felt like it.

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【 Next Chapter 】

Slang dictionary:

Fin = $5 / five dollar bill Bagels with schmear = bagels with cream cheese Wait on line = the same as 'Wait in line' Pop = Canadian slang for soda / soft drinks Sport / old sport = (depending on the context) a term of endearment similar to buddy, pal, friend

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost or modify

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 2

A/N I am breaking probably the only rule I gave myself when I started writing fanfic, which was Don’t Ever Post a WIP.  But lord knows I’m not immune to peer pressure and the narcotic that is reader feedback, so here it is, the second chapter of what is now an open-ended modern AU story about Jamie the Chef and Claire the Kitchen Disaster.  Still a first person Claire POV, so I apologize in advance for any stray pronouns.

For the first chapter, I recommend reading it on Ao3, since I’ve made some minor edits since I first posted it on Tumblr.  See above re. not planning on posting a WIP.

Oh, and funny story.  When I decided to check the location of the real Ginger Snap catering company in Edinburgh, it was squished between “FrazersOnline” and “McKenzie Flooring”.  If that’s not kismet, I don’t know what is.  The location I describe below, however, is based on a catering venue here in Ottawa called Urban Element, where I’ve attended a few team-building events.  I have yet to set anything on fire, though.

I checked my phone for the third time, confirming I wasn’t lost.  

Frank and I moved to Edinburgh over the summer, just in time for him to start his position as Associate Professor of History at the University of Edinburgh. Despite our years spent in America, neither of us cared overmuch for driving, so we chose a flat (or rather, Frank chose a flat and I concurred) not far from campus.  Therefore, this was the first time I’d ventured as far afield as Leith, a maritime enclave just to the north of the capital that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be grittily working class or artistically hip. 

When I finally reached the address, I had to smile.  No main street pretensions or non-descript commercial frontage for Ginger Snap Catering.  Before me stood a two-story red brick fire station, still emblazoned with the crest of the Scottish Fire and Rescue Services.  The two massive truck bays were now enclosed by see-through doors that could be drawn back on a sunny day.  Through these a warm yellow light could be seen, spilling onto the grey, damp pavement.

A petite woman with dark hair manned the small reception area, a red-haired toddler clinging to her like a marsupial.  She held a phone to one ear while simultaneously pacing the polished concrete floor.  I stood as unobtrusively as possible near the door, but in such an open space it was impossible not to overhear her side of the conversation.

“... they willna take ‘im back until ‘is fever goes down...  aye, an hour ago when I picked him up but it hasn’t... nay, i dinna think it’s... tis jus’ terrible timing with two weddings t’morrow... Could ye?  Och, I owe ye Mrs. Fitz, a million times o’er... Anytime, we’ll be here.  Alright, soon.”

The speaker turned to me, the harried look of a working mother sharpening her already honed features.

“I apologize fer keeping ye waiting.  What can I do fer ye t’day?”

Before I could respond, the young boy, probably no older than two, began to fuss, rubbing his flushed cheek against his mother’s shoulder.

“Och, mo ghille, Mam kens ye’re poorly.  Mrs. Fitz is coming as fast as she may.”

Unable to quell my instinct to diagnose and then cure, I spoke up.  

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.  Based on his age and the way he’s holding his head, it may be an ear infection.”  At the woman’s penetrating look, I hastened to explain: “I’m a doctor.  Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

Permission granted, I carefully palpated the boy under the jaw and peered as best I could without an otoscope into the offending ear canal.  Confident in my diagnosis, I recommended treatment with a warm compress, an over-the-counter analgesic ear drop, and children’s paracetamol to control his fever.  If, after twenty-four hours the symptoms had not improved, they could consider seeing his pediatrician for antibiotics, but these were only truly necessary for a persistent infection.

“Och, ye ‘ave no idea what a relief it is tae hear ye say so, lass.  He’s my first bairn, ye ken, an’ I can ne’er tell if I’m over-reacting or being negligent.   Can ye say thank ye tae the nice doctor, Wee Jamie?”

My stomach jumped.  “Wee Jamie?  Is he related by chance to Jamie Fraser?”

“Aye, tis his nephew.  I’m Jamie’s sister, Jenny.  Ye ken my brother, then?”

The pieces fell into place, and my insides settled.

“We’ve spoken before,” I explained.  “I’m Claire Beauchamp.  You and your brother helped me with a dinner party emergency last Tuesday.  I came to return your market bags, and to thank you again for coming to my aid during my hour of need.”

Jenny and I spoke for another ten minutes, sharing the superficial narratives of two strangers brought together by circumstance.  She was warm and thistly by turns, and I felt a longing for the honesty of female friendship that I’d given up when we left Boston.  Eventually a matronly woman arrived to collect Wee Jamie.  I carefully wrote down the exact names and dosages of my prescribed remedy.

After Mrs. Fitz and Wee Jamie had left, it occurred to me that Jenny needed to get back to work.  I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do, even if I hadn’t thanked Jamie himself.   As I began to make my goodbyes, however, Jenny interjected. “If ye’re no’ in a rush, why dinna ye join our afternoon cooking class?  My brother will be demonstrating how tae make quiche.  Tis the least we can do, after ye helped Wee Jamie.”

Which was how I found myself standing behind one of six cooking stations arranged across the fire station’s main area, a bright red apron covering my black slacks and saffron turtleneck.  My impetuous curls were slowly breaking ranks from where I’d slicked them into a bun that morning.  I worried I looked like a human Pez dispenser.

I glanced at the workstation immediately to my left.  A slight woman who I guessed to be roughly my own age was engrossed in her phone, a cheeky smirk playing on her berried lips.  Her strawberry blond hair was swept into an effortless chignon that made me twitch with envy.  She looked up from her screen and caught me looking her way.

“Geillis Duncan,” she said, offering a well-manicured hand.

“Claire Beauchamp.  Pleased to meet you.”

“Is it yer first time taking a class, Claire?”  At my nod, she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: “Ye’re in for a treat.”

Before I could enquire what she meant, a murmur amongst the other students (all women, save one) was accompanied by the heavy tread of work boots on polished concrete and a familiar Scottish burr.

“Good afternoon, everyone.  Thank ye fer joining me on this dreich Scottish day.  I ken a few of ye are new, so let’s start with a brief overview of yer stations and some basic safety reminders, before we tackle the quiche.”

Today Jamie was wearing a pair of olive pants that tapered down his endless legs and a technical shirt that clung valiantly to his upper body.  He looked like he’d just stepped off the nearest rock climbing pitch.  I wondered if he owned anything that answered to the name of a professional wardrobe, but I couldn’t deny that he looked impressive, in an athleisure sort of way.

“See what I mean?” Geillis hissed at me as Jamie made his way to the front of the hall, speaking now about optimal burner temperatures.  “That man is a dozen kinds of yes.”

I concentrated on each step of the ostensibly simple recipe.  Pie crust had been the previous week’s assignment, so I had only to blind bake the prepared dough already at my workstation.  Once I had the crust centered exactly in the pie pan, pierced with a fork in orderly rows and placed in the oven, I rushed to catch up with the others.  I’d missed Jamie’s instructions regarding pan frying the bacon, so I increased the flame, thinking I could make up a little time.  The fatty meat crackled pleasingly as I set it in the lightly greased pan.  I was inordinately proud of myself.

Things went very badly, very fast.  First, my eyes wouldn’t stop watering as I meticulously peeled then dissected the onion into near-transparent crescents. Tears obscured my vision and I tried to wipe them away without contaminating my hands.  To my left I could make out Geillis skillfully cracking eggs into a glass bowl, her pie crust already elegantly filled with crispy morsels of bacon and caramelized onion bits.  

A vague sense of having forgotten something important tickled my mind.  My pie crust!  Grabbing a silicone glove (I wasn’t making that mistake twice) I rushed to the wall oven and extracted the pan.  Giddy with relief, I saw the dough was only a little dark around the edges.  

Before I could return victorious to my station, Jamie uttered a Scottish noise of alarm from his vantage at the front of the class.   We both rushed across the room to where my rashers of bacon now resembled blackened shoe laces obscured by a heavy veil of smoke.  With practiced ease, Jamie lifted the entire skillet into the adjacent sink and turned on the cold water.  A cloud of steam enveloped his head, highlighting his auburn curls.  I bit my lip as he looked my way in amusement.

“I hope ye werena planning on serving quiche to yer faculty guests t’night, Ms. Beauchamp?”

I stood meekly next to Geillis for the remainder of the class, no longer trusted around open flame without adult supervision.   She graciously allowed me to extract her quiche when it was done baking.  It looked like a magazine cover.  Meanwhile, my workstation looked like the scene of an industrial accident.

While we were waiting for her quiche to cook, Geillis and I got to know each other a little better.  She was a Highland lass from up near Inverness.  Married to a wealthy older man, her life sounded like an endless quest for diversion.  Despite this, or because of it, she had a sharp-witted frankness that I appreciated.  She was also a hard-core gossip.

“Wee besom,” she remarked with a nod towards a blond girl who was currently monopolizing Jamie’s attention with endless questions punctuated by manufactured giggles and flicks of her pin-straight hair.  “Tha’s Laoghaire Mackenzie of the Mackenzie brewing dynasty.  They’ve a live-in cook, so there’s only one reason she attends these classes, and it isna for the quiche.”

I watched Jamie laugh over something the girl said, mineral eyes alight and his perfect white teeth on display.  I suppose I couldn’t blame her.  I wasn’t here for the quiche either.

The interminable ninety minute lesson finally ended.  I thanked Geillis profusely and we exchanged numbers before she rushed off for her reiki treatment.  Gathering my trench coat and purse, I tried to slink away without calling any further attention to myself.

“Ms. Beauchamp!”

I cursed under my breath, then turned to face him.

“Please, call me Claire.  After I nearly burned down your place of business, we should probably be on a first name basis.”

Jamie chuckled. It sounded more natural and lived-in than his earlier response to Laoghaire, but I was likely fooling myself.

“Och, wha’s a cooking demonstration wi’out a wee bit of drama.  Will ye be joining us next week?  We’ll be making ceviche, sae I willna need tae put the fire brigade on stand-by.”

“Bastard,” I replied to his cheeky smirk.  “Alas, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a cook.  It appears to be the one science I can’t master.”

“Cooking isna a science, Claire,” he explained with sincere intensity.  “Tis an art.  Perhaps tha’s the root of yer struggle.”

“Perhaps it is.  But in that case, I may as well give up now.  I haven’t an artistic bone in my body.”

His languorous perusal of said body lit a different kind of flame in my belly.  Geillis was right; he really was a dozen kinds of yes.

“I canna say as I agree.  Come back any time if ye’d like tae try again.”

I blushed, thoroughly discomfited by his blatant flirting.  He knew about Frank.  He’d fled from him onto my fire escape, for Christ’s sake!  Maybe when you looked like James Fraser, every interaction with a woman was merely a chance to hone your craft.  Or maybe he was truly ignorant of his effect.

“I’ll take that under advisement.  Thank you again, Jamie.”

“Until the next time, Arsonist.”