#the saying 'write drunk edit sober' was specifically made for me

[rabnerd28]

Being on the second draft of a script, truly is just "damn girl, you don't need to include every thought you have".

[harcove]

you uh. wouldn't mind an angst request would you haha because I have had this one scenario stuck in my head where leon (probably resi 6 leon) has been drinking a lot more and has been neglecting his s/o and they finally call him out on his shit

anyway ooga booga they fight and decide it's best they give leon his space and take a break and maybe he finds them at a bar he goes to to get wasted to already find them drunk off their ass

Angst is absolutely one of my most favourite things to write and to read like damn I do be out here making myself CRY. So I definitely don't mind angst like hell yeah!

I was gonna end this was a happier note- but uh, I really love angst so I left it semi-open ended but also pretty sad I think. Also not really dialogue-heavy, more like... I write too much detail-heavy :,) Also this isn't edited, I spent days on this cause I was overthinking it and felt it was just not good so oof I'm sorry!

Length: 2k

Request: in the ask

Warnings: angst, drinking, lowkey it's alcoholism on Leon's part, being drunk

Leon x Reader - "I know."

How long had it been since you had held your boyfriend's hand? Since the two of you had really sat together and done something together, fully, completely, involved, and focused on one another. You didn't even remember, which was agonizing to think about.

You had been through so much with Leon. And you knew where his deepest thought lay, but you could never truly know. And it didn't help that over the years the two of you had together, he had started to become more distant. And instead of finding his comfort in your arms, he found it in some glass bottle.

At first, you didn't really protest much, you didn't say much about it. A drink every once in a while couldn't hurt. Yet, it wasn't every once in a while. It was more often than you'd have liked. And he was using it to forget. To focus on anything else but his life and his memories. Your soft words trying to talk to him didn't do much to stop him or dissuade him. He brushed you off more often than not. It tore you up from the inside out that you couldn't help him, that at some point a bottle was his chosen form of comfort over you.

The guilt mixed with sadness, and then with anger. And in the end, those feelings came together and created an explosion between the two of you one night.

Your throat was hoarse as you swallowed as much air as you could. You couldn't exactly remember what the argument stemmed from but you knew it had to be related to him drinking.

"Will you just listen to me?!" You shouted, the words coming out uneven as your throat begged you to stop, "put that shit down Leon, and look at me!"

The man sitting at the aisle in your kitchen put the flask he had down in front of him, but still had his hands on it. He turned his head to look at you, barely even moving at all, and his eyes were looking at you like he was unimpressed or annoyed.

"I'm listening."

You wanted to pull on your hair and scream because he wasn't. He wasn't listening, and he hadn't been, at least not for a while.

"No you aren't, you are not listening to a word I say, you never do!"

He scoffed, turning back to his drink and taking another sip.

"Where am I going on Friday?"

"What?" He looked at you incredulously, completely lost as your voice went from yelling at him to speaking relatively peacefully, but there was no peace in your voice.

"I said, where am I going on Friday, Leon," you repeated with clenched fists, "if you listen to me if you even bother to pay attention to me, you would know the answer. So where am I going on Friday?"

The silence was your answer, as you expected it to be, you just hadn't expected it to be so painful.

"I'm going to visit my family in the town over," your voice was low and tired, and you wanted to cry but you couldn't even find it in you to do that, "I told you that a thousand times Leon I..."

Biting your lip hard, you felt yourself break skin, and the metallic taste of blood invaded your taste buds. You were so angry at him moments before, angry enough you had been yelling. But suddenly you weren't angry anymore. You were just so sad; sad for yourself and sad for him. He wasn't going to listen to you, not right now, that much was clear.

"I've been busy Y/N-" whatever he said was wasted on deaf ears as you drowned them out unintentionally, your eyes trained on the flask he nursed.

For once, you knew you had to let it be. You had to give him space, and give yourself space.

"I'm sleeping in the guest room," you offered lamely after the long silence between the two of you after he had finished whatever he had said. Leon looked up at you, with a look of surprise, and confusion, "we both need space. From each other. I just... Don't stay up drinking all night."

"Y/N-" his words once again fell upon deaf ears, and his fingers just missed your arm as you turned and went upstairs to the room usually used by people like Claire, or Chris, sometimes Sherry.

When morning came, you had gotten up later than usual, Leon was already gone as he usually was early in the morning with his job and everything. Your heart felt heavier as you walked into the empty kitchen and noted the vodka bottle you two had been given as a gift was half empty. Something in you asked if it was all worth it; did it really do so much that he drank more than he should've? Did it take away the feelings of hopelessness, like the one you were currently stuck in?

Those were the thoughts that followed you the entire day as you went about your routine. They followed you all the way to the spare bedroom of one of your old friend's homes as you decided you and Leon needed to take a break. If you didn't do that, you feared you would only lose him completely. Or lose yourself. It was exhausting.

But what was even more exhausting was not seeing him. You worried for him, and even if you sometimes felt like he didn't, he worried for you.

It would take about a week before something would crack, before the storm that had been brewing between you two, the one that laid dormant after you walked out to take from your relationship, would begin to thunder again, but in a much different way.

"We're here to have fun," your friend who had been letting you stay over said as she pushed a shot of... something into your hands, leaning against the bar from your side while you said on one of the barstools, "and loosen up. You specifically."

You rolled your eyes; this wasn't in your plan for the day, going to a bar. But it was more than you had done in the past week now. Your routine consisted of going to work and heading back to your friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

You wanted Leon. But you couldn't have him right now. You were still upset, and you didn't even know if he wanted you right now. Everything was a mess.

Things seemed to blur together over the course of the night in the bar, your friend insisting on you trying each new drink she got, some not new too. You had had one drink that you ordered of your own volition, and it had been a regular bottle of beer. But the shots your friend got for you two, and the sips of the drinks your friend ordered, culminated into more than you realized and you could say you were a bit more than just tipsy.

For some reason though, your friend seemed to be chugging along much better than you, you must've been a lightweight.

You hadn't even seen your friend in a while, but you also were so out of it that you couldn't exactly comprehend time properly at that current moment in time.

A hand on your arm and a familiar voice seemed to sober you a bit as your eyes met familiar blue, but they were clouded over with pain, with worry. Confusion too, and a bit of shock. Your fingers twitched, aching to touch his arm. His face. To smooth the furrow that seemed to be etching itself into his brow, threatening to become a new and permanent feature.

But the sober feeling you experienced also stopped you from doing any of the above. Rather, your body stiffened a bit and you pulled away from his touch, only barely missing the look of hurt that glided over his features as you did so.

"L-Leon?" the alcohol in your system made it sound more like you were questioning if he was real rather than saying his name, "What are you-"

The question you were going to ask didn't even need to be finished. It didn't even need an answer from him, because even if you were drunk, you knew Leon. And you knew why he was there.

"Oh," you couldn't help but scoff, "you want my drink? It'll start you off-"

Leon wasn't going to pretend that he hadn't come to the bar to drink away his sorrows; to forget all the pain he held onto and the nightmares he couldn't escape, and now the pain of not having you around. But when he walked in and saw you? Something in him stopped. Something in him twisted and he felt nauseous and for once it wasn't because of a hangover, but it was because of you.

You looked so miserable. Not that you realized you were wearing your heart on your sleeve at the bar, with the dejected look on your face and the limp hand holding onto a beverage you clearly didn't enjoy. Whilst at the same time, you looked empty.

Is that what you saw? Is that what he looked like to you when he was drinking? When he was at home or at a bar, focusing on anything but reality?

Leon didn't want a drink anymore, he wanted to get you out of a place that didn't suit you whatsoever. He wanted to take you home, he didn't want you to be him.

"You didn't come here alone, did you?" He cut off whatever you were trying to say as he looked into your eyes sternly.

"What? N-no I'm not stupid... I came here with a friend."

It didn't take long for Leon to figure out the friend because he spotted her coming near the bar, and recognized her.

"Hey, I'm taking Y/N home," Leon tried to not sound aggressive when he spoke, but it may have only made him sound more upset.

"Leon? Oh, ya, of course. Are you two...?"

"We'll be fine," Leon replied as he helped you stand up, "thanks for being with them."

He hadn't just meant in the bar but in the past week. It was left unsaid, but it was laid bare.

As much as you wanted to pull away from the man who gently wrapped one of his strong arms around your waist, and used the other to hold your arm behind his neck, you couldn't. You didn't have the strength to, and you missed him.

Leon was glad he had taken the car and not his motorcycle. There was no way in hell he would've been able to keep you on a motorcycle all the way back to your home that you shared, or well, you hadn't for the past week. But that wasn't the point.

"You're so mean Leon..." you mumbled as he helped you get into the passenger seat of the car. He all but carried you into it like a child and leaned across you to put your seat belt on. You leaned your face into his neck as he did so, breathing deeply.

"I just... Want you to be happy," you continued sloppily, "but you won't... Let me in..."

Leon's breathing stopped for a moment as he stilled, his hand still on the seatbelt he had just finished putting you in. He quickly pulled himself together and pulled back, adjusting the belt on your body so it wasn't digging into your lazy form, but it was still doing its job.

"I know."

There was so much more he could say, but he couldn't.  He wasn't sure if he ever could.

He settled himself into the driver's seat and got ready to start the car up.

"I still love you though..." your words were slurred as you rested your head on the car window, feeling your eyes grow heavier.

"I..." Leon's hand was turning white at the knuckles from how hard he was holding the steering wheel. He didn't deserve you. And you didn't deserve this.

"I know..."

[mercy-burning]

Hangover Duty

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader’s birthday party leads to some rather endearing drunk antics. Category: Fluff Warnings: Mild language, alcohol consumption, mentions of the prison arc (is that a proper content warning? idk lol) (As always, if there’s anything I missed, please let me know what I should include in content warnings! I always want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 4.4k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Funny story, I woke up at like 3 in the morning last night and just sat up and cranked this out in one go, unprompted. I’m not sure why inspiration struck that late (early?) but I’m rather proud of this one considering I just woke up to edit it a few hours ago 😂, I hope you like it!

***

Watching her gradually get more drunk as the night went on had to be the most amusing and incredibly endearing way to get back into the groove of things. It was nice, actually, being able to have a good time with his friends without constantly being reminded of what's happened in the past year.

Especially considering this year Spencer was determined not to miss Y/N's birthday. Last year he'd been in prison, and rather than being able to celebrate with her and their friends, rather than getting her a card or writing her a letter, she'd written him a letter that detailed in depth how she refused to celebrate until her best friend was there to celebrate with them. Of course he felt awful about the whole thing, and when JJ had dropped off the letters that week, he made her tell Y/N how sorry he was and how he wished more than anything that he could have been there.

And naturally, after dealing with Cat another time and settling his mom down, the first chance he got, he told Y/N himself.

She was in the hospital after that incident with Mr. Scratch. She was the first person he saw in the hospital, and she was fine, arguing with the doctors about leaving to help her team. But once he showed up, telling the doctors he could get her to sit down, they left, and he pulled her in for the biggest hug they'd ever shared.

And the first thing he told her was, "I'm sorry I missed your birthday."

She'd only laughed and squeezed him tighter, replying with a short, yet simple, "Shut up."

He promised to himself then that no matter what happened, he would never miss another one of her birthdays again.

Since it was the first one since all that had happened, Spencer planned something a little extra special. Weeks ahead of time, he talked to Rossi about being able to rent out a bar for the night, Y/N's favorite bar to be exact. Just for themselves. As to be expected, it took a bit of convincing, but eventually they'd been able to successfully rent out the bar for one night, and though Rossi was insistent on paying everything, Spencer wanted to offer as much as he could.

Penelope, of course, insisted on putting up decorations. She roped Luke into helping her, and though he played off like it would be torture, for one thing he was happy to help celebrate his friend's birthday in any way he could, but he also was terrible at hiding the fact that he was more than happy to help Penelope with anything she needed, whether it actually pertained to the party or not.

Everyone told her they were all just going to meet up for drinks after work that day. Y/N was more than okay with it, explaining to them how she was just happy to be able to spend her birthday with her friends no matter where they were. They told her to meet at 7pm when in reality they would all be at the bar an hour and a half early to set up and make sure everything was perfect.

When Y/N actually showed up, Spencer had never seen her so radiant. Even as she was swarmed by Garcia putting on a pink party hat for her that promptly read "Birthday Girl", her hair slightly out of place because of its placement on her head, she was the perfect example of human perfection. She greeted everyone with a huge, beautiful smile accompanied by lots of 'thank you's and 'I love you's, and when she finally got to Spencer, he tried not t hold her to him for too long.

One of the reasons Y/N loved this specific bar was because of the karaoke machine. In fact, drunken karaoke was a decent weekly occurrence with the BAU, and while they'd been no strangers to the act, it only became more frequent when Y/N joined the team. For years now they'd spent many hours singing just as many songs as anyone could think of. And even while drunk, Y/N was a natural. She slipped up on words and slurred them together once in a while, sure, but her voice was easily the most impressive of the bunch, not to mention she never failed to get anyone and everyone to join in.

All that to say Spencer made sure they would be able to use the karaoke machine before they rented out the place. He even attempted to teach himself how to work it, but try as he might, he ended up calling on JJ to help him do it.

Throughout the night they all took turns singing songs, and at one point Y/N finished a song and made a speech, standing up on the bar. (Deep down Spencer was a little nervous that she would hurt herself, or that somehow the owner of the bar would find out that she'd broken one of many rules he had about renting the place out. But that was neither here nor there when he saw the glowing smile she had on her face, looking at all her friends with the most love and admiration he'd seen anyone carry in a while.)

"I'm jussali'l tipsy at the moment, so m'sorry if I don't make any sense," Y/N slurred together, obviously very drunk. Everyone laughed and she continued, clutching the microphone in one hand and placing the other over her heart like she was going to say the Pledge of Allegiance. "I jusneed to say how much I love y'guys. Thank you for celebratin' with me and makin' my birthday real special. I'mean, you fricken rented out a whole-ass bar! That's so nice!"

As she squealed out the last sentence, Spencer couldn't help the wide smile that broke out on his face. She was just so radiant, glowing with warmth and love and happiness and everything good in the world.

She was also struggling to get off the bar. He rushed forward to help her, and she fell forward, into his arms with a giggle.

"You okay?" he asked, his concern blowing away in the wind when she looked into his eyes with another winning smile.

"No thanks t'you," she answered, promptly 'boop'-ing him on the nose before she reached over to the bar and grabbed a full shot glass. After downing the drink, she brushed passed him with a slap on the butt and another giggle, right before she loudly asked Penelope to cut her another slice of cake.

Spencer knew she wouldn't have been so bold had she been sober, but the whole situation still made him feel all warm inside, like he'd taken a shot of whiskey himself.

Luke came up to him, clapping him on the back and snapping him out of it. "This mean you and the birthday girl are finally a thing now?"

"W—what? I don't know what you mean..."

He was obviously lying, and Luke could tell. He laughed a little, nodding towards Y/N, who was currently laughing with Emily and Penelope, a bright blue smudge of frosting on her nose. "She really missed you when you were gone, man. Even put her birthday on hold until she could celebrate with you."

"Well, we've been best friends for years, and she loves her birthday. It was... A hard year. It makes sense."

"Okay, that's fair, but do you know how bad it was? No presents, no birthday wishes, nothing. She demanded we act like it was any other day. And when I brought her a cupcake, she just set it on your desk and left it there. It sat there for about a week before she finally threw it out."

Spencer looked at where she was standing, eating more cake and swaying lightly to the music that was now playing over the speakers. "Really," he mused, not even thinking about it.

Luke sighed beside him. "Look, you can... believe what you want, but we've all noticed it. You two are practically inseparable, and the way I'm seeing you look at her right now tells me everything I need to know."

Even being called out like that, Spencer couldn't make himself look away. And even if he did, he wouldn't have really known what to say. Because all that was running through his mind at the moment was how right Luke was. How much he couldn't help but feel warm and safe when he was in Y/N's presence, and how she made him feel like the only person in the world sometimes.

He wondered then if maybe in the next day or two he should tell her how he felt.

One by one each member of the team eventually left the bar to go home. Each time one of them did, Y/N gave them the biggest hug and mumbled an abundance of 'thank you's and 'I love you's, much like at the start of the night, only this time her words were slurred and higher-pitched and very much laced with alcohol.

The only three people left at the end of the night were her, Spencer, and Emily.

Y/N came up between them and wrapped both her arms around their shoulders, pulling them in for a messy group-hug. "How'r we gonna clean this place up?" she asked dramatically, looking around once they all pulled away.

"I'm going to clean this place up," Emily said, giving Spencer a knowing look. "Since it's your birthday, your best friend here is going to make sure you get home safe and sound."

He definitely didn't see that coming, but somehow he felt like he should have. Regardless, he was more than happy to take the job. Especially when Y/N jumped up and down and threw her arms around him, giving a big old, "Yaaayyyy!" into his neck. She pulled away and gripped his shirt, bouncing on her feet with a large grin. "We can take my car and we can listen t'that CD I was tellin' you about and when we get t'my house we can have a sleepover!"

"Anything you want," he told her with a smile. "Go get your stuff together and we'll go."

As she wandered around the bar to find her shoes that she'd taken off somewhere along the line, Emily nudged Spencer with a smile. "She loves you, you know."

"She's drunk," he countered.

And as if on cue, right then she held one of her shoes up in the air with a triumphant gleam in her eye. "One down!"

"Okay, well, even when she's not drunk, she still loves you."

Though his heart swelled at the thought, he changed the subject. "You don't have to clean everything up. I was going to come back tomorrow morning and do it myself anyway."

"Eh, don't worry, I'm happy to do it." Emily nodded towards Y/N, who was walking around with one shoe on and picking up the other on the floor next to the cake table. "Besides, something tells me you're gonna be a bit preoccupied with hangover duty."

I wouldn't want any other job, he thought to himself.

And even though the nearly-impossible task of getting her into the car should have stressed him out (she kept getting out of the car as Spencer walked around to the driver's side, until finally he promised her a cheeseburger if she would stay), he still wouldn't have had it any other way.

They stopped at McDonald's on the way home, like he promised, and she was practically buzzing with happiness with the food in her lap. She made him sit in the parking lot and wait until she was done eating so she wouldn't spill anything. And in the dim light of the car, parked under a streetlight and watching her eat her food while she rambled on about the most random things, Spencer didn't think he'd ever felt more content.

He tried to keep her quiet as they made their way up the steps to the third floor of her apartment building. They were going to take the elevator but Y/N insisted it would eat her alive, and he quickly agreed to take the stairs as not to make a scene and wake everyone up with her crying. Her shoes came off again on the second flight of stairs, because she kept tripping and then laughing, pretending to fall back and almost scaring him to death.

Now he was unlocking her apartment door with her shoes in his other hand as she clung to his side. As soon as the door was open, she pushed past him and called out for her cat, Murphy. It didn't take long before the white cat jumped up on the counter to meet her, and she squealed and enveloped him in a crushing hug, picking him up and spinning around to meet Spencer, who was closing the door behind him and setting her shoes on the ground.

"Say hi to Murphy! He loves when you come to visit!"

It was true. Though he never really found himself fond of cats, as soon as he visited Y/N's apartment for the first time Murphy clung to him immediately. It didn't take long for the two of them to become as well acquainted as Y/N had been to either of them. Whenever he came over, Spencer liked to think of them as a small little family.

"Hey, Murph," he said, reaching out to pet the cat's head as he wriggled a little under Y/N's strong clutch.

She dropped him after shoving her face in his fur, and wasted no time taking Spencer's hand. "C'mon, I've got some vodka in the cupboard."

As she dragged him further into the kitchen, he squeezed her hand and tried to pull her to him, away from the cupboard. "Y/N, it's almost one in the morning, you need to go to bed."

She turned to face him and whined. "But it's my birthday, you can't make me."

"Well, technically it isn't your birthday anymore since it's past midnight. So, really, I can make you. Come on."

She whined again as he dragged her along to the bedroom. Once they got inside, he sat her down on the bed and reached out to pull off her party hat, which was lopsided and almost placed on her forehead like a unicorn horn. But when he touched the string, she grabbed his hand.

"I wanna leave it on," she said softly.

"It's not safe, you could choke yourself in your sleep," Spencer countered, brushing her hand away and taking the hat off. As his fingers brushed her cheek, she sighed and closed her eyes, a few seconds before letting out a little giggle.

"That tickled," she laughed as he set the hat on her bedside table.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him, and he started to feel all warm again. "Sorry," he whispered, taking the time to memorize the way she looked right then. The curls in her hair had fallen flat, and her makeup was a little smudged, but the lazy smile on her face and the way she blinked up at him with her big, beautiful eyes would always be worth remembering. He could have stayed in that moment forever, just sitting in that comforting silence.

But alas, she was drunk, and unable to be quiet for more than ten seconds.

Y/N lightly poked him in the chest and laughed. "Hey, d'y'think Murphy ever gets tired?"

"I'm sure he does," was all Spencer said, trying to get her to lay down. She did so as she spoke, rambling on about what she thought her cat might have done when she was away at work. But she stopped talking altogether when Spencer tried to put a blanket over her.

"No," was all she said, kicking her legs up.

"You don't want a blanket?"

"No, I want you to be in the blanket with me."

He thought about it for a second before motioning for her to scoot over. "I'll lay with you for a little while, but you have to promise me you'll go to sleep, okay?"

She giggled triumphantly as he laid down beside her and draped the blanket over their legs. "I told'ya a sleepover would be fun."

Spencer reached out and lightly rubbed her arm, knowing that always got her to fall asleep. "I know you did."

But she didn't close her eyes. She was unusually quiet though, just silently staring at his face before she sharply pulled her arm away. "You're tickling me again."

"I thought you liked when I rub your arm, it helps you sleep," is all he said.

Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled it up to lay between them on the pillow, separating their faces. She placed it palm up and rolled up his sleeves so she could rub his forearm, too. Her touches weren't as light, but she giggled all the same. "Am I tickling you?"

He wanted to tell her the truth, which was that she was not tickling him, and it actually felt really nice. But because it might make her feel better, he lied, and told her, "Yes."

"Good," she laughed, moving her hand faster. Now she was just tracing his forearm with her middle finger like she might rub out a stain on the carpet, and Spencer tried to wiggle his arm away.

"Y/N..."

He didn't say it to be mean or irritated, in fact his voice was level and soothing as not to alarm her at all, but all the same she gasped and immediately pulled her hand away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?"

"No," he reassured, moving a little closer to her. "You didn't hurt me, I'm ok—"

"Let me kiss it and make it feel better," she continued, ignoring him completely. Before he could stop her, she grabbed his arm and brought it to her mouth, pressing gentle lips to the crease of his elbow trough the fabric of his shirt, then moving the tiny kisses along up his arm until she made it to his wrist. She didn't stop there, continuing to kiss the palm of his hand and even along his fingers, right until she reached his fingertips.

He laid there, completely still and mesmerized as she flipped his arm over and worked her way down again, kissing the backside of his hand and keeping her lips pressed to his wrist for approximately four seconds. Then she flipped his arm over again and kissed the palm of his hand once more, repeating her many kisses until she got to his middle finger.

He should have seen it coming.

He was so caught up in the feeling of her lips pressed against his skin that it completely slipped his mind that she was still drunk. So when she wrapped her lips around his middle finger and sucked it into her mouth with a laugh, he pulled his arm away and sighed.

She actually cackled with laughter, slightly flailing her legs under the blanket. "Gotcha!"

"Ha-ha," Spencer deadpanned, wiping his finger on his shirt.

He wasn't really sure what to say once her laughter died down, but once he opened his mouth to suggest they try sleeping, she spoke first.

"Can I have a glass of water?"

He studied her for a moment. "You're not going to try anything funny, are you?"

She laughed, leaning forward and brushing her nose against his for the briefest of seconds before retreating and looking him in the eye. "I wouldn't dream of it."

There was no way he could say no. "Alright. I'll be back in a second."

Spencer got out of the bed and turned to leave, but she leaned forward and grabbed his hand. "Wait! I have to tell you a secret first."

If he stayed and listened to what she had to say, it was probably dangerous territory, because in the movies this was always the moment where there were drunken confessions of things you never wanted to say out loud, right? And he didn't want to do that to her, but realistically she was probably going to say something ridiculous about Murphy. Right?

Nonetheless, Spencer turned around and looked down at Y/N. "What is it?"

She pulled his hand, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. "Come closer. It's a secret."

He leaned down, but she pulled him again. "Closer!"

Finally, he made his way down to her face, turning his head so she could whisper in his ear.

But she didn't. Instead he felt her press a kiss to his cheek, emphasized with a loud smooch-ing sound when she pulled away. He looked down at her to see the biggest smile on her face.

"S'all I wanted to say. You can go now."

He smiled back at her before nodding and leaving the room, his cheek and arm practically burning from where she'd kissed them.

And when he came back with her water, she was fast asleep.

***

More than anything she just wanted the banging to stop. But once she realized it was in her head, and it was there because she'd been drinking all night, her irritability was even worse.

"Fuck," Y/N grumbled as she struggled to open her eyes. When she did open them she found Murphy curled into a ball at the foot of her bed, his white fur a stark contrast to the deep maroon color of her comforter.

The next thing she noticed was the smell of something... burning? But there wasn't any sound to be heard other than the beating of her head, so she had to wonder if maybe somewhere outside there had been some kind of fire. Or maybe she was just imagining it.

She wasn't going to investigate, but then she heard her front door open, and despite the pounding in her head, Y/N sat up straight, almost scared out of her mind. Instinctively she reached beside her, knocking over a pink party hat in the process, and grabbing the baseball bat she kept there in between her bed and the table.

As quietly as she could, Y/N crept through the bedroom until she reached the door, pressing her ear against it to hear anything more. She heard plastic bags rustling around, and though that was fairly innocent in terms of menacing sounds, it still didn't quell the feeling that punched her in the pit of her stomach. Though, to be fair, she was certain a lot of that had to do with the copious amounts of whiskey and other liquor she drank the night before.

She took a deep breath before slowly swinging the door open and taking a few quiet steps into the hallway, just before she had to turn the corner to get into the kitchen. The noise got louder as she approached, and after taking another slow, deep breath, Y/N jumped out and held her bat out in front of her.

"FBI! What Are you doing in my house?"

"Holy shit!"

Spencer was standing in her smoky kitchen, clutching his hand to his chest. "Y/N, it's just me! Put the bat down!"

It clattered to the ground as she sighed out and shook her head. "What the hell, man, you scared the shit out of me!"

"Right back at you! I was just bringing you some breakfast..."

Y/N surveyed the kitchen and found that, sure enough, there were what looked like wrapped sandwiches on the counter. "Why is it all... burn-y in here? What happened?"

Spencer looked around nervously, his hands fumbling at his sides. "I, uh... tried to make you French toast. I know it's your favorite, and I know that greasy food is supposed to help with hangovers, so I tried to make some bacon, too, but it turns out that I really suck at multi-tasking in the kitchen, and I burned it all... So, I went with gas-station breakfast, which I figured was the next best thing."

The way he spoke reminded Y/N of a little kid who got caught doing something they weren't supposed to. He was extremely apologetic, almost in a way that made her think he thought she'd yell at him.

Now she remembered just a little of what happened the night before. She remembered drinking a lot and then Spencer taking her home, but she was so tired and out of it that all the little details weren't clear. Or present at all, really. All she knew when she looked at him in her kitchen right then, was that she'd never been more happy to see anyone while hungover. Especially since that someone happened to be her best friend and brought her breakfast.

She smiled and walked over to him. "That was really sweet of you, thank you."

Spencer looked down at her and smiled. "Sorry about scaring you."

"Eh, don't be. It was a good wake-up call," she laughed. "What would I do without you?"

He reached his hand out and brushed some of the hair from her face, at which she almost melted. "I think I should be asking you that question."

Something came to her mind just then, and she wasn't sure why. But she took the risk anyway, turning her head and kissing the inside of his palm.

"W—what was that for?"

Y/N shrugged. "I don't know. Just felt right."

She didn't know how long they stood there, smiling at each other, but it felt different, like suddenly the air around them had shifted overnight into something palpably electric. And it's that energy that urged her to say something she'd been afraid to say for so long.

"Hey, I uh... I don't know if this is weird timing, and you can say no even though it was my birthday yesterday, don't feel pressured to say yes, but I—"

"Yes."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I don't care," Spencer said simply. "Whatever it is you want, it's yours."

"So, if... If I asked you to dinner tonight—"

"Yes."

Her stomach churned, but this time it had nothing to do with the hangover. The pounding in her head was more of a dull thrum now because the pounding in her heart overpowered it. And it grew even more intense when her best friend took a step closer, placing his hand to the side of her face.

"I wouldn't kiss me right now if I were you," she warned, tilting her head to the side. "Hangover breath is basically a bio-hazard, and you're going to completely rethink going out with me."

Spencer shook his head and leaned in even closer. "I don't care."

As he kissed her, she lost herself in him completely and came to the conclusion that he was the only hangover cure she would ever need.

***

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes

[celestialrry]

a little jealousy never hurt anybody, right?

6.7k

HIIHIHI this was requested by the lovely @angelsuestyles (their ask is in my recent posts!) ALSOOOO THANK YOU FOR 222 BILLION FOLLOWERS (∩˃o˂∩)♡ (not really but 222 :0 !!! I love all of you guys!! thank you, it literally means so much to me <<<<<333333) 

edit: I forgot to put this in here when I first posted but this IN NO WAY is hating on Camille at all (she's literally so hot PLS! she just inspired harry’s 2nd album so she worked for the story) and you guys shouldn’t hate on her either!!! 

summary: Y/N and Harry are idiots.

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol and illusions to a boner ¨̮ ( I think that’s it...)

Y/N regrets quite a few things. 

Like that time when she took her senior photo and didn’t realize the small bit of concealer she had blended under her eyes would flash back so much. Or when she was being introduced to a set of twins and even though she had been completely sober that night, accidentally ended up kissing the both of them, not realizing who was who (she didn’t even remember who she wanted to kiss in the first place). And of course, she regrets somehow being able to put a check in one of those super specific love-cliche boxes.

It really wasn’t her fault for falling for Harry. How could she not? Ever since he asked her to join him on his sophomore tour after she played some guitar for his album, she knew there was no way to crawl out of the hole that had just been dug. All thanks to her her friend Sarah, who introduced the two at her intimate birthday party, just months before Harry started producing and writing for Fine Line. 

When an “Oh, shit! You’ll have t’show me sometime!” erupted from Harry after Sarah mentioned Y/N played guitar and even partnered with Mitch on a few projects of his own (that unfortunately, not even after Y/N’s begging, would never be released to the world), Y/N was sure that she would never end up showing Harry, and he was just being sweet. But when a few days later, Harry texted her explaining how he got her number from Sarah and asking if she could get together so he could hear her play, Y/N realized he had been serious, and well, the rest was history.

Harry had insisted she play for a track, then one became a few, then a few became practically the entire album, and soon Harry was talking about how “sick” it would be if she went on tour with them, and after arranging things with her uni and taking a leave from her job, she was ready.

Tour had no shortage of interesting moments, from the time Harry almost broke his ankle during rehearsal and tripping on the microphone wire (why he insisted it have a wire, Y/N had no idea) to Mitch getting really drunk after one show and blabbering on and on about British culture and how different it was from American culture, and YN was sure she’d never seen or heard him talk this much, but no one was complaining.

Y/N had found some sort of companionship in everyone on tour. Sarah had always been like a big sister to her, and the protective instinct really kicked in when they were in a different country, Y/N noticed. Charlotte was pretty new, just like Y/N was and they bonded quite fast over that, and their love for fashion they could never afford. Adam was more open and bubbly, and he took Y/N in like one of his own kids. She truly didn’t think being 23 was so different than everyone else being in their late 20′s and early 30′s but after being treated like a fragile puppy, she noticed that no one else felt the same as her-- she really wasn’t complaining though, it just meant she had all eyes looking out for her, and she kind of needed that to be honest.

Mitch practically became her older brother, and although he was a bit closed off and shy when they first met (which was a few weeks before Y/N met Harry) eventually he was joking around with just her, and teaching her new things on the electric guitar she hadn’t known before.

Finally, Harry. It would be an understatement to say Y/N and Harry got really close, really fast. He was always really good at making friends, but with Y/N it seemed they became great friends in a heartbeat. He opened up about almost everything, fame, missing home, his heartbreaks, his accomplishments, and everything in-between. Y/N did the same, told him how paying for uni was an absolute bitch (to which he offered to pay and she immediately turned him down), how her parent’s divorce impacted her own relationships (Harry had nodded in agreement with that), and about how being on this tour changed her life. By week 2 of tour, the two had become so close, even the fans had picked up on it just during their banter and contact during shows.

“They’re ‘shipping’ you guys,” Mitch had said, taking a sip of water backstage as everyone was gathered in the band’s dressing room. Harry was still getting dressed and ready, so it was everyone but him. “It’s quite cute, honestly.”

Y/N’s brow raised in confusion. “What- why? We act normal like we always do.” She pointed out, firm in her statement. A snort from Charlotte made Y/N turn her head to the strawberry-blonde and gape. “What? Do we- do we not act normal?” She asked, looking around at everyone, now flushing out of embarrassment. “You two act like you’re dating sometimes, love,” Sarah pointed out. “It’s nothing to worry about though, he’s just really affectionate, friends or partners, and we can tell you do too, so it’s inevitable that someone will mistake you guys for a couple.” 

“Mistake who for a couple?” A familiar voice asked, and everyone’s gaze wandered over to the door where Harry had walked in with his billowing dress shirt, and dress pants for the night. “You and Y/N.” Adam said, and Y/N’s head had snapped towards him to give him a death stare, but before her eyes could burn into his skull, her attention was dragged away by an arm draping across her shoulders and the dip of the couch next to her. She turned to look at him, and he gave her a soft smiled before squeezing her shoulder with his hand. “Makes sense, s’like we’re practically married.” 

“I’m waiting on a proposal.” Y/N said with a grin, and Harry smirked, pulling her in closer towards his body. “You’ll get one soon, pet, don’t worry.” The conversation had then shifted to Mitch and Sarah who were literally work-wife and husband, not yet anyways, but everyone knew he would ask her soon enough. Y/N always like this before shows, happy. Not that preforming and the adrenaline rush afterwards wasn’t enough, but everyone was always together, and she liked that a lot. 

She also liked how Harry’s arm had slid down from her shoulders to her waist and how his fingers splayed across her hip, how they gently squeezed, and how his thumb mindlessly ran up down across her skin. It wasn’t an overstatement to say that stayed on her mind the entire night.

。:°ஐ

Harry was always positively buzzing after a show. His narcissistic side loved it when everyone’s attention was on him for hours at a time, screaming his name and shouting their declarations of love.  He loved to be told how talented he was, how handsome he was, and how funny he was, it was safe to say he had a bit of a praise kink, if he’s being honest. But if it was even possible, he loved hearing it all from Y/N even more than the thousands of people in the crowd. He told himself many times that it was just because she cared about him, and he cared about her, and hearing praise from someone he knows and respects (not that he didn’t respect his fans) was just so much more fulfilling.  

So after every show when he’d rush offstage with he rest of his band, his attention always went to Y/N, waiting for her praise, and he always got it.  He, of course, complimented her back, and watching her smile was more than enough to keep him happy the rest of the night. This night had gone the same as all the others, an amazing show, running offstage, and hugs and kisses being thrown around like a beach ball at a rave. “That was awesome H, your whale seems to get better every time.” Y/N had commented, and he had attempted helplessly to keep his cheeks from flushing. “I’ve just got strong lungs, pet. Could never compare to your guitar playing though, the real star of the show. Don’t tell Mitch I said that.”

She waved off his compliment and laughed, pulling him into a soft hug with a soft kiss on the cheek that he was still thinking about when they made their way to a bar for the night. He couldn’t take it off of his mind, not even when there was a pretty blonde in front of him, her hand running flirtatiously over his arm and her smile as blinding as the sun had been earlier.

 Of course she was pretty, there was no way to deny it,  she just wasn’t as pretty as Y/N. No one was, not after he’d laid eyes on her and began using her beauty to determine everyone else’s attractiveness. 

So when his attention from the woman in front of him fades, he’s looking around for the familiar face that he can’t enough of. He meets Y/N’s eyes and immediately her own dart back to Charlotte, biting the inside of her cheek and praying he didn’t catch her staring at him with envy. 

Envy of the girl in front of him, who go to express her attraction towards Harry without hiding it, and not worrying about if he feels the same way or not, because of course he finds the girl in front of him attractive, who wouldn’t? 

It’s then, that Y/N starts to pity herself, physically and romantically. The partners she’s had before always seemed way too good for her, and she had never been the one to end it.  To say that destroyed her self-confidence in the long run would be an understatement. 

It wasn’t like she needed a partner to make her confident, no, she was perfectly capable of doing that on her own, but for the first time in a long, long time, Harry made Y/N feel really good about herself. Good about her personality, her humor, everything, because if someone she looked up to that much, if a man like Harry Styles wants to be friends with her? She thinks it just meant she was doing everything right.

So Y/N, in short, was jealous. So jealous and wound up by Harry showing attraction towards that girl, that everyone else seemed to notice she was a bit off. “Y/N, you okay?” Mitch asked from across the booth, his thick brows twisted in concern. “Hm?” She looked up from the wooden table beneath her to see everyone, sans Harry, looking at her with the most pitiful eyes she had ever seen, and god, did she feel disgusted. Disgusted that she had fallen so hard for a man she could never have, that everyone around her noticed and felt bad for her. 

“I’m fine, but I think m’gonna call it a night. I’m pretty tired after today’s show.” She said with a tight-lipped smile, hoping it would convince everyone that she was okay. Of course it didn’t though and Adam caught on. “Funny, I was about to say the same. I can’t stay up late like I used to anymore, wanna catch a taxi back?” He asked, and Y/N nodded with a real smile this time, albeit the fact it was small, because she really didn’t want to go back to the hotel alone, and Adam always knew what to say.

Sarah and Mitch slid out of the booth to let Adam out, and Y/N simply stood up on her side because she had the outside seat. Harry was supposed to sit next to her on the edge, but seeing as he went to the bar to grab everyone another round and then ended up talking to someone else, that didn’t happen. She slipped on her light beige coat and grabbed her purse, slinging it on her shoulder as Adam put on his jacket as well. When Y/N looked to the bar where she had last seen Harry, he was still standing there animately talking to the woman in front of him, dimples prominent in his rosy cheeks, and all she could do was hope he didn’t notice the two of them slip out as they made their way to the door.

Alas, Y/N could never be that lucky.

“Hey! Where are y’guys going?” 

Y/N and Adam turned around at the sound of his voice and that was when Adam went in full protective mode, slinging his arm around Y/N’s shoulders and pulling her in closer. She made a note in her head to thank him immensely when they escaped this bar. 

“Heading out for the night, we’re both pretty pooped.” Adam explained, eyes darting from Y/N to Harry who now stood in front of them, his own eyes darting from Y/N to Adam then back to the girl who was now avoiding eye contact at all costs. 

“Oh, alright then. Are- Y/N are you okay?” He asked softly and only then did her eyes meet his own. “Yes, I’m fine. I feel like such a baby when I’m around you guys.” She joked, her lips curling into a small smile. 

Adam chuckled at that and so did Harry, but Y/N could tell the curly headed one was still concerned. “Well we gotta catch a cab, so…” She trailed off, her thumb poking back to the door. 

“O-okay,” Harry nodded. “Get back safe, yeah? Have a good night.” He said in parting and Y/N and Adam both nodded, wishing him the same before turning back around and pushing through the door. Harry watched the two of them leave, and his stomach bounced around in an odd way. 

The cold air whipped across the duo’s faces, and and Adam rubbed Y/N’s shoulder comfortingly as he hailed a cab. They didn’t talk until they were settled in the back and Adam told the driver the destination. “Wanna tell me what’s up? Cause I’m not gonna bother you anymore when we get to the hotel.”

She smiled at him and scoffed a bit before trilling her lips, a soft noise releasing from her mouth at the movement. “Um,” She began, running her hands through her hair. “I’m pretty sure you already know.” 

At her words, Adam just raised a brow at her. “What? You guys all looked at me like someone just killed my puppy back there!” She defended, raising her hands. “Okay, fine, fine. It won’t help if you keep all your emotions bottled in though, you know?” 

“Yeah,” She sighed. “I know.”

After getting back up to her room, doing her nightly routine (which really was just her washing her face, brushing her teeth, and changing into the t-shirt Harry gave her a few weeks ago and her Spongebob decorated fluffy pajama shorts that she got in college as a joke but really ended up being her favorite item of clothing she owned, other than Harry’s shirt, of course) she slipped into bed and began scrolling on her phone. 

Only what felt like 15 minutes later, a knock on her door broke Y/N out of the trance she was in and she sighed a bit, pulling the covers back and grumbling as she made her way to the door, annoyed at whoever was behind it-oh.

Harry looked at her as she swung the door open for him and he immediately grinned. “Hi, love.”She could never stay mad at him. “Hey, H.” She smiled at him, still a bit confused. “What’s up?” He ran a hand thorough his hair and retained eye contact with her, before speaking. 

“Sleepover?” 

She nodded and let him in, and immediately he went to her suitcase without a word, pulling out some her biggest sweatpants and stripping to his boxers, slipping the joggers on and keeping his shirt off. Y/N suddenly was reminded of all of Harry’s tattoos she knew none of the meanings behind. 

Sleepovers were common with the two of them, and they always occurred in Harry’s suite, Y/N on the way too comfortable couch, and Harry guiltily on the bed even though she insisted she take the couch because “We can’t have your back hurting when you preform!” And he couldn’t say no when she also said “Please?” and looked at him with those soft eyes. 

So now it was a bit different, being in her room, because 1, there was only one bed that they would both consequently end up sleeping on, and 2, Y/N and Harry’s feelings had both developed a bit further than friendly (although neither knew about the other’s).  

She hesitantly crawled back into her bed and patted at the area right beside her, which Harry quickly traveled over to, lifting his side of the comforter and pulling it over the both of them while Y/N leaned over to the night-stand and grabbed the T.V. remote. She plopped back into the pillows and started scrolling through random channels, trying to find a decent movie for the two of them to fall asleep to. 

All the while, Harry was attempting to look at the T.V. but the light was shining on her face in a way that just made her look so pretty, not that she wasn’t always pretty, but she seemed to always look the best when she was in her natural state, no makeup, no nice clothes, it was just all so domestic and the feeling overwhelmed him when he realized he wanted to be the one to see her like this every night.

Her eyes darted from the T.V. over to her right where Harry was curled up in the covers, and she could feel the burn of his eyes on her. Now that really didn’t help with her insecurities, and as she continued switching through the channels she found herself burying under the covers more and more.  Soon, she landed on a stupid rom-com that she’s seen a few times before but she never really knows what it’s about because her attention gets easily dragged away from it.

She puts the remote back on the table and flips back around to be face to face with Harry, who was now looking at her with furrowed brows. “Why’re you burying yourself under the covers?” He asked with a frown, and she lulled her head away from him then back, biting the inside of her cheek. “M’just a bit cold.” 

His brows raised because he knew full well it wasn’t cold at all in this room, in fact it was quite hot, but he didn’t want to deal with her lying and thinking she could get away with it, so he pulled the covers off of himself, which actually cooled him off a good amount and piled them all on top of her. “Hey!” She cried out, muffled by the fabric on top of her. “M’hot, so I figured you could have my covers.” 

He heard a bit of grumbling and the covers were flung off of the bed entirely in a few seconds, Y/N sitting up and leaning on her arms breathing a bit heavy and turning to Harry with a stink in her eye. He just flashed his signature cheeky grin and she grabbed her pillow and hit him over the head before placing it back and pulling the sheets over her body. 

“Ow! You fucker.”

。:°ஐ

 Harry was sure about a lot of the things he did. 

Like when One Direction split up, he didn’t remain in constant contact with the boys, and while it was difficult at first,  they all needed a break, and it just made it so much better when they met up to hang out again. Or when him and Camille both decided it was for the best that they break up and they remain friends to this day. And of course, he was sure about bringing Y/N on tour. 

She was possibly one of the best people he had ever worked with, and one of the best friends he’s ever had. He was sure about getting close with her, and he was sure about keeping her close. Only, now keeping her close meant keeping her arms length apart, because if he got any closer he wouldn’t be able to handle being with her any closer than a few little touches and hugs and cheek and forehead kisses, not when he couldn’t have her. 

So it was safe to say when he opened his eyes the next morning with Y/N flung over him, her leg between his own, her arm wrapped around his chest with her face pressed into the junction of his shoulder and neck, and her warm soft breaths hitting his bare skin, making goosebumps pimple, he freaked out. 1, because friends did NOT cuddle like this, and 2, the close contact was making his chest clench and his lower abdomen heat up. 

He let out a shaky breath and thanked his lucky stars Y/N was a deep sleeper, and slowly slid out from under her, ignoring how his arms were wrapped around her and his hands were touching her bare skin where her shirt (his shirt really, and that just made it about a billion times worse) had ridden up in the night. As he was pulling his torso from her body after getting his legs out, she let out a whine and her grip on his back tightened. 

His heart beat wildly fast, so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if he looked down and saw it moving through his skin, and he stilled, terrified that she was awake. A few minutes went by, and she didn’t stir anymore, so after chalking her movements up to a dreaming Y/N, he moved a hand and gently took her soft hand off of his bare skin, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

Finally he’s out of bed, and slipping on the clothes he wore the night before, folding the sweats he borrowed and putting them back in her suitcase.  He grabs his phone off the other side table Y/N never used and reaches her door, making the terrible mistake of looking back. Y/N’s face is smushed into the pillow he put under her head, her lips sightly open as she slept and her arms now curled around the pillow Harry had used last night, and he would swear on his mum’s life that she was breathing in his scent if not for the fact that he was certain she didn’t like him the way he liked her, and he didn’t want to barter his mum’s life on something so uncertain. 

His chest clenched for what felt like the billionth time this morning and even if he didn’t know it then, he had already decided that he couldn’t handle this anymore, whatever this was, and began to push the sleeping girl out of his mind and heart, in order to save himself from future heartbreak.

 。:°ஐ

When Y/N woke up, her bed was empty, and she had never felt akin to a bed until that morning. 

。:°ஐ

The last time Harry really spoke to Y/N was the night he slept over.

It had been a little over a month since then, and she was trying really hard not to let it get to her, but seeing as Harry interacted just fine with everyone else, and his problem seemed to be with just Y/N, she couldn’t help the nagging feeling that she had somehow scared him off. 

A week after he slept over, the only times he spoke to her were for performances and work-related things, and her mind had been swarming with questions. Did she say something about him, or to him while she was sleeping? Sure, she had a dream about him, but it wasn’t anything dirty (although that had happened a few times before), they were just at a carnival and there was a ride in which they got to fly, it was quite fun. Did she cuddle him too much? Sure she could be really touchy when she’s tired, but so can Harry if his wandering hands (only in appropriate places) when they had movie nights were anything to go by.

So her questions went unanswered, and her attempts to speak with him were fruitfully ignored, whether that be he pretends he didn’t hear her the first time, or if he excuses himself before answering because he had to talk to someone about something. 

Everyone else in the band noticed, and Y/N didn’t know it, but everyone at tried to talk to Harry about it at least once. Adam mentioned how Y/N and Harry seemed to have drifted apart and Harry only hummed in agreement, making it obvious he didn’t want to talk about it. Charlotte had asked Harry if he was doing okay, to which he responded “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” And she didn’t feel like it was her place to tell him that Y/N had come to her crying about Harry’s actions, or lack thereof, towards her and she didn’t know what was wrong. Sarah was blunt with Harry, telling him how it was obvious Y/N and him weren’t speaking and asking what had happened to which Harry shrugged it off and told her that “people grow apart”, and it wasn’t anything personal.  Mitch had tried to the same, to no avail, despite being even more blunt than everyone else.

And that led them here, 15 minutes before Harry’s second, and last night in L.A. on his tour before they head to New York. He was quite looking forward to it, excited to see the few friends who couldn’t make it the night before. It was easy, going out with people after the performance, not having to think about Y/N as he drinks the night away. 

He looked in the mirror in front of him, patting the invisible dust off of his pearl adorned blazer and pants, the wife-beater under his coat so thin his tattoos could be traced. Usually after he was dressed he would pop into the band’s dressing room just to shake off the nerves beforehand, but he stopped doing that after he began to push himself away from Y/N. There would be no where else to sit but next to her, and that didn’t help his overwhelming need to hold her.  So instead, he made his way to the couch in his room, relaxing for the few minutes he had.

Y/N on the other hand was sitting in the dressing room with Sarah, Mitch, Charlotte, and Adam, all conversing about how ready they were, the energy in L.A. the night before had been off the charts, and they were more than excited to feel it again. All Y/N could think about, however, was that this just meant there was one more show to play, then tour would be over, and there would be no more reason to be in Harry’s band. Not when he clearly didn’t want to be friends with her anymore, and she thinks this is the worst she’s ever felt in a long, long time. 

。:°ஐ

The first part of the show goes really well. Harry is hyping up the audience, and everyone is smiling. “She” was the next song they were to play after Harry stopped interacting with the audience and Y/N was excited. It was one of her favorite songs to play, and she loved just stopping and listening when Mitch did his solo. He usually did the more detailed guitar work, while Y/N worked with the backing chords. 

“Alright, the next song we’ll be playing is “She”, let’s make sure not to get Mitch’s ego too high afterwards though.” Harry had laughed into the mic, walking back to the stand and clicking the mic into place. Then, it began. It was good, it really was, until Y/N noticed that Harry had faltered a bit in the chorus, and her eyes followed his own to the blonde hair in the VIP section. It was her, Camille, the muse behind this entire album.  Her heart stuttered as she noticed he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was gorgeous, prettier than all of the pictures she’s seen.

And Harry was looking only at her in the crowd.  It was then, that Y/N started to go a bit haywire. He began to sing the chorus, and she guesses her fingers held the pick a bit tighter, and strummed bit harder, because after 10 seconds of playing she realized she could no longer hear his voice. Almost immediately did she soften the strumming and look up to see Harry turn to face her, confusion and anger, maybe, written all across his face.  She ignores it and continues to play until the song is over. She’s not listening when the crowd cheers, but she regrets tuning in when Harry introduces the next song on the set list, how he says that it’s possibly one of his favorites, and meet’s his ex’s eyes when he starts to play Cherry.

It’s then that Y/N breaks. She keeps her eyes down, and her strumming quiet, just incase she falters (which she does about 2 times), and when her mouth moves up to sing the backing vocals she realizes that her eyes are welling up and her throat is closing in.  She closes her mouth and continues to play the guitar, missing Harry’s look back at her, and the rest of the band’s attempt to conceal the fact that she had stopped singing in the middle of the verse. 

The rest of the show goes on, and her tears are held back when they all wave goodbye, and when they rush offstage, and when Harry’s hand brushes her arm that she’s sure was a mistake (it wasn’t), and they continue to be held back until she bursts into the unisex restroom just a mere 20 feet away from the dressing rooms. She locks herself in a stall and sits on the closed toilet seat, shaking hands covering her face as she chokes on her sobs, knowing she would never be enough for Harry, thinking about how he want’s nothing to do with her, and how big of a mistake she made going on tour with them, because if she didn’t, then she wouldn’t have fallen in love with Harry, and she wouldn’t be feeling this way. 

What feels like hours, but was actually just 15 minutes of her crying all the tears she could cry, she decided it was better to mope in her own hotel room rather than in a public place where anyone could walk in. She steps out of the stall and doesn’t bother looking in the mirror, only washes her hands, then rinses her face, patting it dry with a cheap brown paper towel. She crumples it up and tosses it in the trashcan, walking out of the restroom to see Harry outside of his dressing room, his arms wrapped around Camille in an intimate embrace. 

Intruding would be a good word to describe how she felt right then, and quickly did she speed walk the other way, trying not to let any more tears fall as she opens the door to the bands dressing room to see Sarah and Mitch packing up her things. One look at her was all it took to break the dam that held her tears, and she covered her mouth with her hand, her head falling down and her other arm wrapping around her stomach, maybe it would make things better.

 Sarah quickly hands Mitch Y/N’s bag that held her sweats, sweatshirt, purse, and phone she brought to the venue, and takes the girl into a much needed embrace. She cried into Sarahs chest for a bit, snotty apologies from Y/N that Sarah waved off, insisting it was okay, and that she would be okay.

After calming her down a bit and receiving a hug from Mitch, she takes her bag and walks into one of the privacy divider boxes, changing into the clothes she would wear tomorrow on the flight, and tonight to sleep in. Mitch and Sarah lead her out of the venue with all of their arms locked, and bring her to the car, the hotel, and lastly her room.

“We’re right next door, if you need anything. Are you sure you don’t want us to stay?” Sarah asked, biting her lip in anxiousness. Y/N shook her head, her puffy eyes hurting from the movement. “No, I’m gonna be okay. Thank you- um, can-can you not tell anyone? I just-”

“Of course we won’t tell anyone,” Mitch interrupts her, making sure she won’t start crying again, because if there’s something he wants least, it’s to see her cry. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?” 

Y/N nods, and they all hug and part with declarations of love and goodnight’s.

。:°ஐ

Harry just arrived at the hotel after a quick late dinner with Camille at her flat, catching up and eating some really good Chinese take-out. It was always good seeing her, they weren’t super close anymore of course, she had a new boyfriend now, he was there too actually, a really fine lad that he thinks Camille deserves, but he enjoyed getting to see her with no bad-blood.  

So the night was going good, other than Y/N’s weird guitar mishap and her faltering voice during the show, that he couldn’t stop thinking about. 

Well, it was going good, until Mitch called him after Harry sent him a text talking about how he was back at the hotel, and told him that he was really stupid. Told Harry that Y/N seemed really hurt earlier, and how he thinks that Harry ignoring her caught up to her. Of course, Mitch knew it was partially untrue, but to remain loyal to Y/N he couldn’t tell Harry why she was so upset, and exactly how upset Y/N really was. 

Upon hearing this, Harry’s mood deflated and he rushed to Y/N’s hotel room, knocking a few times with a soft “It’s me, Harry.” through the door. Y/N heard it, but there was no way in hell she would open the door for him, so she feigned sleep and hoped he wouldn’t attempt to wake her up. “Are you awake, love?” No answer. “Pet?” No answer. “Okay, well, I just wanted to talk to you, um, but we can do that tomorrow, I-um, I’m sorry.” 

He left, after that, leaving her to curl up in her covers alone, tears leaking from her eyes.

The next morning was anything but fun, they were to wake up at 6 and catch the 7:30 AM flight from L.A. to New York.  Of course, everyone one in the band and a few others got first class, while the rest of the crew rode on Harry’s rented private jet, to hold all the equipment that wasn’t provided at the venue. 

So this meant that Y/N and Harry would have to be stuck in the same cabin of a plane together for about 5 and a half hours. Luckily they weren’t designated to sit next to each other, but Harry had other plans. 

He switched tickets with a hesitant Charlotte and got the aisle seat, where Y/N would have the window seat. He got on first, and got settled in,  biting his lip in nerves, he wasn’t really sure how he would be able to explain away all of his actions to her, but he knew that he had to, he didn’t want to loose Y/N.

Y/N stepped onto the plane, flashing a fake smile at the flight attendant who obviously noticed her puffy eyes and frowning face. Her eyes darted from the row number and seat letter to the ones on the top of the cabin, and when she found the matching pair of seats, there he was, in all his sweatpants-sweatshirt covered glory. 

Her mouth opened to tell him she didn’t want to sit next to him, but when he looked up at her with a soft smile, all she could do was close her lips and sigh, squeezing past him to plop down in the seat with the window. 

He didn’t try to speak to her, and she did the same, but he really wanted to. Wanted to ask her how she was, what she had been doing when they stopped talking (or when he stopped talking to her), if her Mom was still working at the job she wanted to quit or if she finally did it, if she still wanted to get a cat when tour was over, but he just couldn’t. 

He had no idea where to even start, does he talk to her, then hope the conversation will lead to a place where he can apologize, or does he just apologize straight up, but have no explanation as to why he hurt her in the first place.

The internal battle lasted until they landed, when they got off the plane, traveled to the hotel, and when they went to their respective suites.

Y/N considered herself lucky that Harry had decided to not speak to her on the flight. That wouldn’t have given her an option to opt out of the conversation, and she knew he was smarter than that.  She didn’t know however, that when she opened the door to her hotel room after a hasty knock, expecting another member of the band, that Harry would be standing in front of it, his eyes widened in anxiety. 

“Wh-”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, interrupting her and walking past her into her room that she hadn’t invited him into. “I’m so sorry for ignoring you, and-and not talking to you when you tried to talk to me. You didn’t deserve it, I’m sorry.”

Her brows raised in surprise and she shut the door behind him, staying near the entrance.  As her mouth opened to accept the apology, her mind raced through how she had been feeling the past month and instead she said, “It’s been a fucking month Harry, I-I thought everything was fine, and then one day you just decided to cut me out?”

“I know,” He stepped closer to her, guilt rushing through him. “I know, it was stupid of me, and I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t even know what to say. You wouldn’t even look at me on the flight and I-“

He was interrupted by her walking up and pushing her finger against his chest. “I wouldn’t talk to you?” She scoffed, tears brimming her eyes. “I-what did you expect after you pushed me away for a month, no warning, no reason-”

“Of course I had a reason!” Harry raised his voice, eyes watery as well.  “I fucking love you! That’s why, and-and we were getting too close than friends should, and I couldn’t handle not being with you.”

Silence. 

“Fuck, Y/N I’m so sorry-mmph!”

His apology was silenced by her lips on his, and his eyes widened as he realized what was happening.  They fluttered closed, and his arms wrapped around her torso, while her hands were placed on his cheeks and wowthiswasreallyhappeningandhewasn’tdreamingwashedreamingnohewasn’t-

Y/N pulled away with a deep breath in and laughed a bit, her forehead resting against his. “If you didn’t catch on with that, I love you too.” 

Harry laughed and cheekily grinned, pulling her even closer than she was before. “Really? I’m not sure I got it, can you help me understand a bit more?”

She swatted his chest and kissed him once more. “Cheeky bastard.” 

[directdogman]

Generally how drunk are you when you make games nowadays? "Nowadays" since you have stated before that you were drunk for 90% of DSAF 2's development time.

Y'know what, I'm actually gonna try to answer this somewhat lengthily. For DT, i've actually been mostly sober. Definitely for the second half of development, anyway. Namely bc I've been so busy irl. I p much don't have the time to get drunk and write awful drunk dialogue, since I'm dividing myself between looking after an old relative, running errands for said relative and actually working on my game. My life is pretty much just work, eat once a day, sleep, wake up, repeat, rn. Not much pleasure in it at all, and haven't been for a while, y'know? The little bit of online interaction I get is literally it. Ofc the pandemic doesn't help either. I'm too broke to go anywhere, but even if I set aside money to do that (which is hard, since I have a cat to feed, household to run, collaborators to pay, etc), where would I even go, y'know? Not much is open where I am, and the places that are, well, the restrictions make trying to go to those places more trouble than it's worth. I used to enjoy visiting bars with my friends, but rn, it's either stay sober, or slug a bottle of whiskey alone with my door locked. Given how grim the second option is, I've largely just developed sober. I'm trying to think of the pandemic and these sorts of days as time that isn't 'mine', so to speak. It's time to work and hope for a better future. Not time to be enjoyed, heh Ofc, don't take this as me saying I'm despondent or at a breaking point either. Hectic times come and go in everyone's lives and this is just one of those, ig. I'm making progress with DT and nothing is on fire (to my knowledge), so hey, woot. I do miss the novelty of getting drunk and developing while drunk though, doing image editing (specifically the grunt work) is very different when you're not sober. But, idk, I didn't need the booze as much as people tend to assume I do, so aside from resenting the lack of freedom/the lack of chances to loosen up/goof off I have rn, it hasn't made much of a difference. So, yeah, I hope better times are ahead, I guess. Thought I'd write this in case anyone else is kinda feeling like they don't quite exist, and are just 'waiting' for this work-heavy boring non-time period to end. I see you!! We'll get through this.

[an-sceal]

That last thing I reblogged- I don't know the author or the book. But I will tell you this. A couple years ago, a book I co-wrote (with my wife) became a finalist for a LGBTQ-specific literary award. We were super excited to get the nod (even attended the award ceremony), especially for the particular book that earned it, which was a story about characters we had been playing with for over 20 years.

Timeline:

-We got the call from the awards committee telling us we finaled -We got an email from our publisher congratulating us -Several readers and other authors took to twitter to talk about how horrible it was that a bunch of "straight women" were nominated for the award -Someone went out of their way to tag me and several other authors into the convo. I had twenty fucking minutes to enjoy something that should have felt like a success, before someone went out of their way to make sure I knew that I wasn't welcome in my own community spaces.

It wasn't a discussion about problematic things in the books. It was a bunch of people saying it was bad that we were nominated, that we didn't have a right to tell those stories, that we should be ashamed for submitting the work for consideration. That we weren't queer enough to tell queer stories. Again- this had nothing to do with the story, with anything people found problematic or unrealistic about the work. This was a group of people discussing why I, as a person (a person who does actually credential myself as queer in my twitter bio, btw, even though I hate the -concept- so. fucking. much.), was not welcome to tell my own queer stories in queer spaces and be considered for queer awards.

And whatever, right? Sure, a growing group of people said they'd never buy any of my books because "straight women should shut up" (which, hi, suuuuuper not cool in its own right, but you're entitled to your opinion, whatevs) and a bunch of other shit that I've tried really hard not to remember.

My point here isn't woe is me- it's that a bunch of other people went out of their way to make sure I knew they disliked ME, they questioned MY validity and worth as a member of the LGBTQ community, and they did it because I have a public twitter profile where I interact with people as an author. (Which again, they didn't actually LOOK at.) They did it without caring how I got to where I was, how long I'd worked to be able to tell queer stories as a queer person. And if I'd defended myself at all, I would have been the problem. These people were actively taking away my space and success AS A QUEER PERSON, while pretending to act in the interest of queer people.

As someone with mental health issues that don't need exploring at this juncture, seeing people say that I PERSONALLY should be silenced, that I PERSONALLY should shut the fuck up, should stop writing, should stop PRETENDING I had the right to literally tell the stories of my own existence, it was deeply upsetting. The closest thing to a threat of physical violence (thankfully) was someone saying people needed to be slapped.

On a writing level? It fucked me up. Like a typical neurotic writer, I have scads of Imposter Syndrome, and something that felt so cruel and isolating, so exclusionary, coming out of celebrating a piece of work I made, as a queer person, with my very queer wife, telling a story that literally brought us together, was fucking -shattering-. Our next book still isn't done with edits. (There are other factors there- namely a host of physical health problems that cropped up shortly after all this.) Every time I sit down to work, in the back of my mind I remember that even though I'm out, even though I made an effort to make myself available for discussion and public consumption, I am Not Queer Enough.

And you know the best part? I wouldn't have seen any of it, if someone had not gone out of their way to tag me into the conversation.

It takes zero fucking seconds to not be an asshole.

(I very much am not posting this as a Poor Me thing. It's to share an experience, not to garner sympathy or whatever. Because I'm fucking tired of seeing this happen. You can think whatever the hell you want about my writing, you can think whatever the hell you want about ME. You can discuss it, you can dissect it, you can say I make horrible puns when I'm drunk, and worse ones when I'm sober. But you're not entitled to access to me, or any other writer, just like I'm not entitled to your time as a reader.)

[levi-inthesun]

Loving Someone

This is for @stuckonjbbarnes​ writing challenge with the song Loving Someone by The 1975. 

Summary: In order to protect your heart, you made up the “only fuck once” rule, dictating that you could not sleep with the same person more than once. Then Carol Danvers comes back to the compound, to stay. Will this rule bite you in the ass?

Warnings: Swearing, references to smut, dirty talk?

Paring: Carol x Reader

A/N- I did not edit this.... so sorry

“What are you doing tonight?” Sam asked as you both slowed to an easy jog.

“Probably just gonna go the bar,” you reply easily.

Sam stops abruptly, “How long are you going to stay in denial?” There isn’t any malice or bite to his words, just genuine concern and it makes you feel uneasy. You make some non-committal noise instead of answering and finish jogging to the doors of the compound. 

You do your best to avoid Sam the rest of the day, which wasn’t too difficult until it’s time for you to leave for your favorite bat. Except Sam is standing by the door, dressed and ready to go. As you approach, Sam has that look in his eyes and you know you cannot convince him to stay home unless you stay home tonight. 

“You driving or are we getting an uber?” You ask, throwing your cropped leather jacket on. 

“I’ll drive,” Sam decides, grabbing a random set of keys and you both make your way to the garage.

The bar is only slightly packed, which is, in your humble opinion, optimal. You like to have room to breathe, more specifically though, room to dance with whatever woman consents. 

You skip over to the bar and order a rum and coke and chat with your favorite bartender and Sam watches from a booth he’s claimed. 

“You know, you are a lot less closed off here,” he casually says while throwing a peanut into his mouth. 

“Are you just going to therapize me the entire night?” You (semi) joke.

Sam shrugs and you take a long sip of your drink before moving towards the dancing people.

The night went on how every weekend-night goes. You get pleasantly buzzed/on the edge of drunk, dance with hot women, and eventually, go to either your place or their place where you will (hopefully) ravish each other. 

~

You wake up slowly, a faint pressure on your hip. You hear the woman behind you breathe deeply before stretching gently.

“Morning,” she says softly, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder. “I’d love to stay for breakfast, er,” she looks at her phone. “Lunch but I’ve got a meeting later.” 

You nod and watch her hop around throwing her clothes back on. “I’m just gonna use the bathroom then I’ll be out of your hair,” she says, watching as you sit up and the sheet pools around your waist.

You raise an eyebrow in reply.

Once she’s left (with her phone number written on your mirror with the lipstick she was wearing last night), you throw on a pair of sweats and one of Sam’s shirts before making your way out to the kitchen.

“She was cute,” Sam says, throwing something in the microwave.

You hum in agreement and look through the fridge, eventually settling on an apple. 

“Oh, we’ve got a meeting at 3,” Sam informs you. “Captain Marvel is back in town and she has some stuff she needs to brief us on.”

“Captain Marvel is a woman, huh?” You ask Sam, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

“You do know that not everyone is bisexual, right?” Sam teases. He grabs his bag of popcorn out of the microwave and starts to walk out of the kitchen before turning back. “Uh, maybe don’t have a one night stand with our teammate?”

~~

You are ready to crawl into a hole or have the earth open up and eat you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Carol greets you, a mischievous glint in her light brown eyes. 

“Oh, fuck me,” you whisper before composing yourself. “Hey, Carol,” you say, shaking her hand. 

“I already did,” Carol states, voice low, before switching gears to get the meeting started. 

The entire meeting is spent trying to listen to Carol talk about possible issues outside of the earth’s orbit, but really you just end up staring, flashes from last night taking over when she moves a certain way. The other part is spent sending death glares at Sam and Bucky who are having the time of their lives at your misery.

Carol excuses herself to take a call and you lean forward, finger-pointing at the men across from you.

“You knew!” You whisper scream, “You couldn’t have warned me? What the hell?” 

Sam grins, “I just… Listen, I was going to when I realized it was Carol, but then I remembered that it is 5 million times more fun watching you suffer.”

Bucky cocks his head to the side, “Wait, did you hook up with Carol?”

“Some spy you are,” you grumble as Carol walks back in, a slight frown on her face.

“Apparently I’m grounded for the next… well,” Carol pauses, taking a deep breath, “foreseeable future.”

Sam and Bucky high-five under the table, then volunteer you to show Carol around. 

~

After showing Carol around the compound you decided you needed to go out again tonight. During the tour, Carol was extremely flirty, which was welcomed- except for the fact that she was a teammate and not a one night stand. To avoid her, you spent the rest of the day hiding in your room and searching your closet for the perfect outfit to wear. You ended up in a crop top with high waisted, wide-legged pants, and after checking yourself in the mirror you walked out of your room with your head held high. Luckily no one was in the kitchen and you were able to leave the compound without anyone noticing, or so you thought.

The club was vibrating with energy as patrons drank too much and danced as much as they could. You downed a shot at the bar then headed into the crowd. At the heart of the masses, you threw your hands in the air and danced, not caring who with. Soon a pair of large hands gripped your hips. Turning your head to the side, you glanced up at the beautiful man before leaning your body into his. Time was non-existent as you danced with the man and you were positive the feeling of his hand on your waist was burned into your skin.  

“You want to get out of here,” he asked, lips at the shell of your ear and voice low. 

“I’d rather stay here and dance for a little while longer. That good with you?” You replied eyebrow raised.

Instead of saying anything, he rolled his eyes and walked away, attaching those large hands to some other woman.

You rolled your eyes and sighed as you headed back to the bar and ordered a beer. You sat down and took a long drag from the bottle before popping some peanuts into your mouth. A remix of your favorite song came on, causing you to down the rest of the bottle before heading back into the throng.

You moved your own body with the mix of bodies around you, circling your hips, running your fingers through your hair. You saw a familiar hand slip around your middle and in your alcohol-induced haze, you thought it would be a good idea to test fate.

Lips crashed together as you both got out of the taxi and headed towards the compound. 

“Wait,” you cautioned, “ Gotta make sure no one is up.”

“It’s 3 am, Y/N,” Carol countered, “Who is going to be up?”

You chuckled before heading into the common area, Carol trailing behind you. When you found everything dark and empty, Carol’s voice cut through the silence.

“FRIDAY, are any of our teammates up?”

“No,” FRIDAYS voice replied, volume lowered for how late early it was, “All Avengers except you and Y/N Y/L/N are asleep.”

A mischievous look took over Carol’s features as she stalked towards you, causing you to back into a couch, almost falling over the back of it.

Carol quickly caught you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing her lips to your neck with open-mouthed kisses, causing a low moan to escape you. She then traced her tongue from the pulse point below your jaw over to your mouth. 

“You’ve gotta be quiet, baby,” Carol teased, voice low. “If you can do that, I’ll reward you by taking you to my room and fucking you so hard you can’t help but scream.”

A soft whimper left your lips and you nodded, crashing your lips against hers.

~

When you woke up, the first thing you realized was that you were alone in Carol’s bed. You quickly looked around, finding her room empty.

“God damnit,” you muttered to yourself. “I was supposed to go to the club and find  someone else to sleep with.” 

Your muttering continued as climbed out of her bed to find your clothes scattered throughout her quarters.

You didn’t notice right away when Carol walked back in, giving her the opportunity to admire your half-dressed form. 

You were about to put your bra on when you noticed her, leaning up against her desk with two mugs of coffee in hand. Her lips turned up in a smirk as she saw what she thought looked a lot like relief flood over you. 

Standing there, bra hanging around your middle, still staring at the gorgeous woman you’ve slept with twice now, you were overwhelmed with confusion. You quickly shook your head and fixed your bra and Carol pushed off the desk towards you.

“Thought you might want some coffee,” she said, handing it over.

“After last night I’ll probably need a pint,” you whispered, taking a sip.

“What was that?” Carol asked eyebrow raised. 

You coughed and looked up at her before clearing your throat. “Uh, I just said I’d probably need a pint after last night.”

Carol smiled, “And why is that?”

“Seriously, Carol? Do you need to hear me say it?” you asked. 

“Yes,” she replied simply. “Say it.”

You set the coffee down on the nearest flat surface before stepping closer to her. “I need a goddamn pint of coffee because you fucked me into almost every surface of your room until I couldn’t form a coherent sentence.”

“And I’ll do it anytime you’d like,” she told you, voice husky.

You quickly cleared your throat, then located your shirt and headed towards the door. “I wouldn’t count on it,” you did your best to keep your voice even. “I rarely sleep with the same person more than once.”

~

You spent the following weeks avoiding Carol unless absolutely necessary, which included going to a different bar and staying more sober than you normally would, just to make sure you didn’t accidentally end up back in her arms bed. 

“You’ve been drinking less,” Bucky stated with a questioning look on his face.

“And what’s that to ya, bionicle boy?” you responded, taking another bite of leftover pasta.

Bucky shrugged, “ Just curious. I-”

“Not just curious,” Sam interrupted, walking out from around the corner. “There are very few things that can get you to drink less. So what is it?”

You huffed and was about to deny them when Carol walked in, sweaty from the gym. She greeted you and you smiled in response, then did your best to not watch the bead of sweat trail down her neck. 

You sighed inwardly when she walked out of the kitchen.

Sam and Bucky shared a look before narrowing in on you. 

“You just sighed,” Bucky accused, “What happened between you and Carol?”

“I bet I know,” Sam said. “I bet you slept with Carol a second time, breaking your only fuck once rule.”

You tried to interrupt Sam, but he wouldn’t let you.

“BUT! Not only that, you have a crush on her,” he finished. 

“I do not!” You exclaimed, trying to sound annoyed. 

“Your voice just went up an octave,” Bucky observed, “Which means you are lying.”

“What do you have to say about that?” Sam questioned.

You could feel your face heat up and you jumped off the counter. “I’d say,” you turn to them, legitimately annoyed now, “That it’s none of your business.”

Instead of stomping off to your room, you walked out the front door and headed in whatever direction your feet took you, ending up at a park. Taking a deep breath you sat down on a nearby bench and let your head fall back so you were looking up at the sky. You stayed like that for a while, just watching the soft clouds roll by, mind empty. 

At least, it was empty until you looked up and saw two women holding hands, watching their kid go down the slide. 

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. 

You thought about what Bucky and Sam had accused you of, and you knew they were right. You had a big ole’ fat crush on Carol Danvers, fucking Captain Marvel, the woman who played your body better than anyone ever had. That’s when memories flooded your mind.

Memories about people from your past who you had cared deeply for, and who all betrayed your heart. The last one was just after you dropped out of college, right before the Avengers recruited you. After her, you swore you’d never care for anyone in that way ever again. It was just easier that way. Except, when you looked back up at the couple, you felt a heavy loneliness come over you filled with a special kind of pain.  

You looked away and your eyes caught on a woman who looked too much like Carol. You rolled your eyes before scrubbing your hands over your face. 

“Y/N?” Carol’s voice called out, causing you to tear your eyes from a spot on the sidewalk, surprise etched into your features. “I was looking for you when Sam told me you walked off, upset. He said you’d probably be here.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. 

Carol took that as an invitation to sit down next to you, allowing some space between. 

“I was looking for you because I am fed up with you avoiding me,” She stated. “I’ve been tired of it for about a while now, actually.” 

You let your eyes slide over to the woman next to you, eyeing her carefully. 

“Another reason I came looking for you is because I was worried about you,” she said softly. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I’m fine,” you said far too quickly. 

“Obviously,” Carol chuckled. 

You were both quiet for a few beats too long when Carol spoke up again.

“It would be easy for me to be upset with how you’ve been treating me without acknowledging something probably happened to cause you to react like this,” she said, “So, I’ll just say this once and leave the ball in your court.” She turned her body towards yours and your body turned all on its own to face her. “It sucks that someone, or multiple someones, hurt you so badly in your past that you’ve decided to make your ‘only fuck once’ rule, all to avoid developing any sort of connection or feelings for anybody ever again. It seems like your rule to avoid connection is hurting you more than you thought it would, so I know there’s hope,” Carol stood up abruptly to stand in front of you. 

“You should be loving someone,” she finally said. “Just, fucking let yourself love someone.” 

You sat there staring at her, heart beating out of your chest because you knew she was right. You stayed silent because you were scared of how much you have already started falling for her, and you were searching for the right thing to say. 

Carol hung her head in defeat before turning to walk back down the path she came, pausing like she wanted to say something else, but changed her mind and began walking away from you. 

~

“Carol?!” You called as you walked into the common room, “Carol! Where are you?” 

“Can you stop yelling,” a gruff voice pleaded from the couch. “She’s not here.” 

“Do you know where she is?” you asked, “Buck, I need to find her.”

“I think she went to a bar,” Bucky said with a sigh, realizing he wasn’t going to be able to continue napping. 

“Thanks!” You said, running towards your room to change your clothes. 

~

You had gotten FRIDAY to disclose which bar Carol was at, and sped through New York traffic on your bike, getting there in record time. 

As you walked in, your eyes scanned the room looking for her. You walked over to the bar to ask the bartender if they’d seen her, and they pointed to the far side of the room. You looked her over, noticing how she was leaning up against the wall, talking to some gorgeous woman. It reminded you of the last time you slept together, how sexy she looked leaning up against her desk. 

The song changed to Loving Someone by the 1975, bringing you back into the present. You watched her for a moment longer, gathering your courage when she looked past the woman in front of her and locked eyes with you. A smile tugged at her lips giving you the courage you needed to close the distance. You saw her say something to the woman who waved her off before she met you halfway. 

You both stopped in the middle of the bar and she looked to you expectantly.

“You were right,” you admitted. “I made that stupid rule to try to protect my heart and I think I honestly caused it to break too many times.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, urging you to continue.

You let out a sigh, “Aaaand I like you and that scares me,” you admitted.

Carol smiled, “Well, then can I buy you a drink?” 

You shook your head, pulling the keys out of your pocket, “I’m good. You wanna go for a ride?” 

Carol’s smile stretched further over her lips and she nodded, so you took her hand and walked out of the bar.

[maraudererasmut]

Experiment MJ001

TW: Drug and alcohol use. Mentions of drugs and alcohol use by minors. 

Marjiuana is legal in my country. It has been for a while.

I’ve always been very nervous about things in my life. Not anything in specific, just things in general. I had spend so long being repressed by my parents, I had cotten it in my head that drugs = bad and since marjiuana = drug, QED marjiuana = bad. 

Today, I decided to do something out of the ordinary and purchase a (legal) chocolate bar from the pot store and try it out!

So, I am currently high for the very first time in my life! (I’m in my late 20s)

I had an idea that I thought was brilliant at the time to write Wolfstar fan fiction about Remus getting high for the first time WHILE I was high and see what happened!

I also decided that I’m going to POST IT. Without editing it! (Pure, unadulterated chaos!!!) Now, for your viewing pleasure, the ramblings of a T on Pot. I have no idea if this is good or not. I haven’t read through it yet. I’ll probably wake up tomorrow, read this, regret it and delete it. But until then... enjoy!

((I’m sorry if it’s terrible!!!))

((I am also currently still high while typing this, so I apologize for any errors!!))

Remus had never consumed marjiuana before. Growing up, his parents had been very strict with what kinds of medication he was allowed to consume, particularly in regards to his lycanthropy. “You don’t know how it will affect the wolf, Remus.” “You don’t know what will happen…” “We can’t predict how the wolf will react…” 

Magic had always been the go-to remedies for colds or maladies; Muggle drugs were never to be trusted in the LUpin home.

So when Remus got drunk for the first time, he made sure that his friends were around to help him through the experience. 

Now, in his seventh year of school, Remus finally built up enough courage to ask his friends to, once-again, monitor Remus while he was testing the waters.

Remus sat with the three other Marauders, staring at the brownie in his hand.

“Are you sure this is safe?” he groaned, internally terrified of what may happen. The scent of the brownie wafted through the air, and Remus cursed his wolfish senses as his mind began convincing him that this might be worth it for the chocolate alone.

“”Yeah, I’m sure, Moons…” Sirius teased, licking his lips like a cartoon wolf sizing up a prized pig as he stared at his own brownie.

“Yeah, Pads and I have done this hundreds of times!” James chimed in, already  half way through his. “It’s fine!”

“You’re not werewolves,” Remus grumbled as he turned to Peter. “You’re the sensible one, Wormy. What do you think?”

Peter stared at Remus for a moment before breaking out into a smile. 

“I say fuck it!” he said, taking a bite out of his own brownie. “You only live once, Moons!”

Remus closed his eyes, took a bite from his brownie, chewed and swallowed. 

Nothing happened.

No big bang, no swirling in his brain, no sudden rush of feeling. 

“It’s… not working?” He said, turning to Sirius.

“Give it a bit, Moons! It takes time to work! It’s like alcohol!”

“Okay,” Remus said with a shrug, finishing the rest of his brownie. “So… what do I do until then?”

Sirius shrugged, but his smirk gave him away. He sat back onto the pillows and blankets that they had dragged to the ground, his head resting precariously close to Remus’ lap. He grinned up at Remus before reaching for his wand and giving a lazy flick into the air. 

Sirius’ record player began to spin, and All Along the Watchtower began playing, filling the entire room and seeping into Remus’ bones.

Remus laid back on the pillows, his head next to Sirius’. He closed his eyes and let Hendrix drift through his mind, trying not to let Sirius’ scent drive him crazy. 

Remus didn’t feel anything.

Not for a while.

He didn’t think it was even working.

The boys had spent the next hour talking, chatting, chilling, as they usually do on Saturday evenings. They talked about girls (James complaining about Lily), boys (Sirius’ trists with that Ravenclaw boy), and everything in between (Peter’s insistence that, yes, James, he is still Asexual. And no, James, he doesn’t need to double check.) 

Remus didn’t notice the time passing as he laid on the pillows next to his friends, for the first time in his life actually being able to participate fully. They normally spend evenings hanging out in the middle of the room. James and Sirius always got high. They had since they had discovered Muggle weed last year. Peter had partaken on occasion, but usually insisted that he preferred a couple of beers over weed. Remus, on the other hand, remained sober all night, watching his friends fall into various states of inebriation, testing their limits, seeing new sides of themselves. 

This was his first time.

Remus smiled to himself, thinking about how much fun it is to participate, even if he didn’t know what being high felt like yet. 

“What’re you smiling about?”

Sirius’ voice was practically a purr in Remus’ ear, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. 

“M’not… Not really. Just… happy to be here with you lads....”

“Mmm, same, Moons. Happy to be here… Today’s a good day to be alive…”

“That’s a weird thing to say…” Remus rolled over and looked at Sirius. 

Was Sirius always that handsome? Did his eyes always sparkle silver in their conjured lights? Did his hair always look that soft and touchable? What would happen if Remus touched it? Was his skin always so pale, so milky while, Remus had to resist leaning over and tasting it. Remus edged his arm over slightly, comparing his own freckle-dusted arm to Sirius’. One was slender and perfect and tattooed and lovely. One was broken and scarred and ugly. 

It was no wonder Sirius never noticed Remus.

“Whatya thinkin’ ‘bout?”

Sirius’ voice distracted Remus from his thoughts. 

“Mm? What’d’ya mean?” 

I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles…

The Who was playing in the background and Remus watched as Sirius’ head bobbed up and down to the music, a wide grin spread across his perfect cheeks. 

“I mean you’re thinkin’ of stuff. We all are… I am… That’s what makes things so cool when you’re high… You think of stuff…”

Remus blinked. What was Sirius even saying? What had he been doing? Was he thinking? He seemed to be thinking…

His brain felt like the needle was skipping across the record. Or that more than one record was playing at a time. Everything that was said out loud was one record in one player, and a vision of him talking to Sirius from a bird’s eye view was another record. And the way the music blended into his brain was another record. 

Was this what being high was?

“I’m thinking of the music… I guess. And… Mrs. Robinson…”

“Ha ha! That’s that one Hufflepuff chick, ya?”

“What? No… it’s… coo coo ca choo?” Remus closed his eyes. His mind was feeling a bit foggy. 

Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes…

“Oh! Yeah! Jesus holds a place for those who pray…”

“Hey hey hey!” James’ voice came from miles away. Or across the room. To Remus, it felt like both at once.

“Yeah,” Remus said with a grin, rolling over onto his left side to face Sirius. “Coo coo choo, Mrs. Robinson….”

“BOYS!” Peter hollered from the other side of the room. “Hot Blooded! This is my jam!”

Remus grinned, listening as the sound of guitar filled the room. He tapped along to the song, watching Sirius watch the ceiling.

“What are you thinking about, Pads?”

Sirius tilted his head towards Remus and gave a wink. 

“That I’m hot blooded,” he said, his tongue resting on his fang. 

“Pfftt… You’re just a horny mutt…” Remus teased. He felt an immediate pang of regret as Remus realized that Sirius was likely horny for a certain Ravenclaw boy. 

“Mmm, bet you are too. Not that you’d ever date anyone… But I bet you’re real bad, Moons… “

Remus rolled his eyes, trying to keep his heart from exploding from his chest with terror. Why was Sirius talking about how horny Remus was? That wasn’t something Sirius ever talked about. 

“You know how it is… not allowed. The whole… furry little problem…”

Oooh, I’m picking up good vibrations, oooh she’s giving me excitations…

“I’ve told you, just date one of us…”

Remus chuckled, trying not to show how much he wished he could. 

“Oh yeah, James would totally ditch Lily for me,” Remus teased, listening to the Beach Boys suddenly start the quiet part of Good VIbrations. 

“I didn’t say date James…”

“Oh, Sorry… Peter then… Yup. That seems like a great idea…”

Good good good good vibrations!!

“Are those really your only choices?”

Sirius was on his side at this point, facing Remus head-on, giving a sly grin. 

Normally, Remus would laugh this off as a joke and change the subject. Perhaps talk about the fact that Sirius had American Woman on his magical mixed-record. 

Today was different though. Today, Remus was feeling a little bolder. A little dizzier. A little more capable of looking at the situation differently.

Most days, from the very beginning of his life, Remus had been taught to be small, demure, less than other people. He knew not to make waves or say what was on his mind, because he was not to draw attention to himself. Today, for the first time in his entire life, Remus was starting to understand what it felt like to be a normal person. Someone who wasn’t a werewolf. Someone who didn’t grow up being told that they had to hide themselves because of societal pressures. Today, he could suddenly just say whatever he thought and felt and there was absolutely nothing keeping him from saying it. 

“I can’t very well date you, Padfoot. What would that poor Ravenclaw boy do without you in his life?”

“Who, Spencer? Nah, we were never an item. Just fooling around…”

“Fine then,” Remus said with finality, trying to shrug while on his side. Whoooo are you? Who who, who who? “I suppose you’re the only person in all of Hogwarts who I can date.” 

Sirius grinned his wicked grin, inching closer to Remus, his eyes positively smouldering. 

“I suppose so. Guess we’re to call it, then. We’re dating now…”

Whooo are you? Who who? Who who?

Aaaawww, who the fuck are you?

“Hear that Prongs,” Remus said, playing along with the joke. “Sirius and I are dating now.”

“Well it’s about goddamn time,” James yelled back.

Remus chuckled to himself, but when he opened his eyes, Sirius was there. In front of him, their noses almost touching… There was a moment…

Whoooo are you? Who who? Who who?

Remus inched closer, rubbing his nose to Sirius’, just playing along, just being silly, just keeping up with the game.

Sirius closed the gap.

Remus sank into the kiss, feeling Sirius’ lips against his own, Sirius’ tongue tasting like chocolate and pot, Sirius’ hands suddenly around his waist. 

Then Remus pulled away.

Who are you? Who who? Who who?

“Who the fuck are you?”

Sirius laughed, pulling himself slightly away from Remus.

“I just wanted to see how far you’d be willing to play along! I didn’t realize you’d actually let me kiss you!”

“Fuck…” Remus swore, starting to feel angry at Sirius. “Shit... I thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“Nothing…”

“Maybe what, Remus?”

“Nothing, Sirius.” Sirius’ lips were against Remus’ again, but the werewolf knew better this time. He pulled away, his eyes narrowing. “Stop dicking around.”

“I’m not dicking around…” Sirius whispered, his voice dropping low and rumbly. Remus felt a chill down his spine as House of the Rising Sun played in the background.  

“Don’t kiss me if you don’t mean it,” Remus grumbled, before he had a chance to think about his words and and regret saying him, Sirius was kissing him again. Remus tasted his tongue and lips and the thrill of kissing someone he had wanted to kiss for as long as he could remember. Sirius pulled away, his eyes gleaming and ravenous. 

“I mean it,” he cooed. “I—”

Before he could continue, Remus was pressed into Sirius, taking advantage of his inebriated state and lack of over-thinking. 

“Get a room, you prats!” James called across the room. Remus didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except the feeling of Sirius’ body against his own, Sirius’ hands around his hips, Sirius’ tongue in his mouth, Sirius’ teeth nipping his lower lip. Everything was Sirius.

Remus closed his eyes and lost himself in his Padfoot. He silently prayed that things could stay this easy forever, but deep inside, he knew that would be a dangerous path to head down...

[imanativeofswlondondahling]

Hidden In Plain Site (2)- Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count:  2348

A/N: This was inspired by this wonderful post by @starsholland. Without it this would not be happening. This will be a multi part fic, but I don’t know how many chapters or when it will be posted so if you’d like to be tagged let me know:)  Welcome to Tom being undercover on Tumblr. Quick notes- Y/T/B = Your Tumblr Blog

Chapter One || Master List

The edit turned out better than you thought it would. You had decided to use blue and red, since they’re Spider-Man colors and it honestly suits Tom and Haz so well. You still are wondering when the picture is from since you scoured the depths of Google and Tumblr to no avail. It’s either really old, or not really posted. Either way it made an adorable edit and will look great in your edit’s tag. It’s also sparked some ideas for a friendship imagine. It’s been so long since you wrote anything, with work and family stuff weighing you down, but you can picture the outline in your head so as soon as you finish the last touches on your outline, you click open a new document and drop a few lines down to get going. 

“What you working on?” Your brother calls to you from across the living room. He knows that once you’re home for the afternoon, it’s not normally work stuff, but sometimes your graphic design projects run into your post work day.

“Just some edits. Nothing too big.”

“Bringing work home?”

“Nope, just working on some extra stuff.” You type some more into the document, wanting to make sure that everything is hitting the moment right. In your browser, you pull up your tumblr and make a new post.

Ask me stuff while I work on my latest imagine. Give me a number 1-100 and I’ll give you a song from my writing playlist and a memory attached to it.

Across the ocean, Tom can’t sleep. It’s nearly 3am, but something is keeping his mind from sleeping. He should be able to sleep just fine. He isn’t working on any movies that have him worried, he doesn’t have any auditions coming up, and he doesn’t have press for a few weeks. So why can’t he get to sleep?

Lifting his phone in his hand he sees a notification from Tumblr saying that Y/T/B has posted. He swipes across and waits for the post to load. You want questions? Well, he can help with that. Plus, he’s interested in learning about what kind of music you’re interested in.

Anonymous Asked:

33?

Anonymous Asked:

86?

Anonymous Asked: 

69;D

Three Anons come in right after another. You weren’t expecting that quick of a reaction. Sure you had a couple hundred followers, but you didn’t tend to get that many reactions to your posts. At least not back to back. But you’ll take it, and reply. As soon as you send the edit to that blog that asked for it.

You pull up the thread between you and tomholland2013. You click the camera button and upload the edit you had done. 

Hey, here’s that edit. Hope this works for you! 

Surprisingly, whoever is behind the account messages back immediately.

That looks awesome! Thanks so muchX

Hows your night going?X

More like afternoon here lol. I’m just getting some work done after getting home earlier.

How about you? Is it night there?

It’s like the middle of the night here and I can’t sleepX

If it’s middle of the night there, did you see the news? 

What news?X

That Tom saved Spider-Man?! It’s been all over Tumblr since I got home from work.

It’s kind of the reason I made your edit in red and blue tbh.

I hadn’t had time to look at my dashboard to be honest. I’ve been busy with work stuff most of the afternoon.X

It wasn’t a lie. Over the past few days having talks between him, Bob and Tom trying to smooth everything over, there wasn’t much time to glance over the explosion that had happened since the original news had been released. But after clicking send on his message to Y/N, he clicks over to your main blog to see the reaction to the news. There are some general reblogs of the news announcing Spider-Man returning to the MCU but then there were also some general posts about Spider-Man and Peter Parker. Your tags are what really get to him. Some like hashtag my-baby-is-back-where-he-belongs and hashtag get-tom-drunk-more-often-if-it-saves-my-baby. He can’t help but laugh at the last one. True he hadn’t exactly been sober when he and Bob had first talked about getting Spider-Man back in the MCU, but he didn’t think that story would take the world by storm.

Going into his settings, Tom quickly updates his picture with the edit you had done for him. Honestly, it looked better than he had hoped for. You had done Spider-Man colors and if he wasn't trying to keep this blog on the down low, he would share it on his Instagram so his fans could see how talented Y/N was. As he hits save, another message comes through from you.

Do you mind if I use the edit I sent you as inspiration for an imagine?

A what?X

An imagine. It’s a specific type of fanfic. I had a great idea of one while I was working on the edit for you, but if you’re not cool with it, I’ll find a different picture.

You did all the work on it. Feel free to use it. What kind of story?X

Basically like a Tom x Reader with hints of Harrison friendship notes in it. It’s hard to explain lol

Have you written other stuff?X

I think everyone on this site dabbles in it from time to time, but yeah I’ve written a few pieces over the past few years.

Do you have a list of them?X

Sure, it’s here.

You had linked a page in your message. Apparently dabbling meant one.. Two.. three… his finger drags down the page as he counts the stories. Holy hell, you’ve written fifty stories about him, Peter Parker and even some of the other Avengers. But most of them revolve around him and x Reader, whatever that means. You had mentioned it in your message, but he wasn’t sure what it meant.

Ok, I’m new to the whole fanfic thing, so pardon my stupidity but what does x reader mean?X

It’s a self insert fic. Basically anywhere that it says Y/N or you, you put yourself into the fic. They’re one of the most popular types of fics.

Before he can reply to your message, a notification comes up saying that Y/T/B has posted a new post.

Anonymous Asked:

33?

Y/T/B/ Answered: Heather by Conan Gray. So I love this song and totally have screamed along with the chorus of this song when I’m alone at home and writing or in my car driving places (otherwise I would freak my family out). When I wrote a fic called The Smell of Your Sweater, on my master list here, I listened to this song on repeat for three days straight to be in the right mind set. Honestly I could probably listen to this song until the end of time and never get sick of it. 

Tom reads over the answer and can picture someone jamming out to a song so much that they love it. He pulls open his Spotify app and pulls up the song, because he wants to feel closer to you, even though you’re time zones apart from each other. The fact that it’s afternoon where you are and nighttime where he is makes him think that you’re in the United States.

So reader insert are some of the most popular type of fics, but what are your favorite to read?X

That’s not even something that I would share on a first date lol you’ll be waiting a bit to find out. 

Is sharing that you write fanfic something that you don’t talk about on a date?X

Not normally. Talking about it with tumblr friends is one thing because I link it on my blog, but what I read is a whole nother thing. It literally says so much about you with who you read, what ships you ship, and especially what kinks you look for.

KINKS? IN FANFICS?X

You haven’t read much yet have you?

Literally no. I’ve only been on tumblr since I messaged you the first time. That was the day I made my blogX

So you’ve been on for a month? And you’re deciding to get into fanfics?

No I’m thinking I should stay away from it still. It seems like virtual porn.X

It doesn’t have to have anything smutty in it. Just click on ones that say fluff or don’t say smut next to them. You can also block certain tags so they don’t come up on your dashboard. Like Starker is a popular one to be blocked for a lot of people.

I don’t think I even want to know what that is if people are blocking it who are into this porn esque writing. X

It’s not porn lol You seem to have only found smut so far. We need to find you some fluff. Maybe some Tom x Reader?

Maybe I’m just not ready for it after all.X

Does he want to read about himself? Not at all. That seems creepy. But other people write about him too. It’s not just Y/N. He decides to research this further. In the search bar he types in Tom Holland Fanfic. The first four post all say smut or NSFW so he’s not going to bother reading them, but the thing that catches his eye is the fact that they all have over 2,000 notes on them. Two thousand people have liked or reblogged about him in a sexual way? What the actual flipping hell?

Before he has the chance to flip out even more, another notification from your blog pops up.

Anonymous Asked:

86?

Y/T/B answered: Praying by Kesha. THIS WOMAN COULD MURDER ME AND I WOULD THANK HER FOR IT. Plus that chorus makes me want to write some epic breakup scene and have one of the people begging the other to feel the same as they are feeling. Oooooo maybe I feel a one shot coming up. Anyway, a memory of this song- my best friend and I blasted this song while we drove from California to Philly to visit a school. It literally got us through so many hours of that drive. Kesha is bae lets be real. Or is that not what the cool kids say? 

When he sent you these asks, he thought he would get one or two sentences in response, but he’s learning so much about you from all of these asks. Maybe he would send you some non song related ones, maybe some To- Peter Parker ones to see what else you liked. Purely science based research. 

If you’re not ready for it, don’t push yourself. Fanfics can be a weird mindset to put yourself in. I used them at first to distract myself from some shitty family stuff that was going on, but now I read and write them for fun too. I think I mainly read Avenger ones at first as well as some TV shows too. Plus would I be a teenage girl if I didn’t read a few Twilight fanfics back in my day? 

Twilight? Like Rob-Tom makes himself type out Rob and Kristen’s full names like a fan would-ert Pattinson and Kristen Stewert Twilight?X

That one exactly. I was the generation it was aimed for and so fanfics galore were my teen years. But I’m proud to say I’m a recovered Twihard.

Glad to hear it darlingX

What about you? What were you into as a kid?

I’ve always been a fan of Spider-Man, ever since I was a kid.X

Comics or movies?

Comics. They’re the originalsX

Which Spider-Man is the best? 

Is that a trick question? Obviously HollandX

Was that conceited? Maybe. But hopefully, Y/N doesn’t think so. Oh wait she has no idea-

It was a trick question. A trick question that you clearly got right. 

Another notification pops up and you suddenly remember the last number that you sent Y/N. Well hopefully the number doesn’t seem like you.

Anonymous Asked: 

69;D

Y/T/B Answered: Noice. 

But the actual answer is Bad Religion by Frank Ocean. This song got me through my last bout of depression lol. I remember sitting on the floor of my bedroom with the lights off and just playing this song on repeat. Always open about that here. It also gets me to channel some deep emotions into some pieces that I’m working on because it reminds me of being in that dark place. I also really like the beat of this though, like how it sounds like a mix of an electric piano and an organ. So if I ever name a one shot Bad Religion, it’s probably named after this song.

Tom feels like a weight is sinking in his gut. Almost like someone slammed an anchor into the lower part of his bowl. He didn’t mean to bring up something so dark with that number. He was hoping it would actually make her laugh. So guess he will send her one more number, but this one won’t be on anonymous.

Tomholland2013 asked: 36

Huh, he must have seen all the responses you posted. Between posting and replying to him, you hadn’t gotten much work on your imagine done, but you could post once more before jumping back to your word document. 

Tomholland2013 asked: 36

Y/B/N answered: The Night We Met by Lord Huron. I literally saw them in concert with my friends last month so a lot of the memories I have of them are about this. But I have a great fanfic idea for this song specifically. To not spoil it completely I’ll just leave you with three spoilers- first date, first dance, secrets spilled. It’s a work in progress.

Now it’s time to get off the internet and back to writing, or else you’re going to Tumblr your day away.

Taglist: @ serendipitous-amor @im-still-tryin-to-find-it​

[deunan403]

Oh my gosh your ‘the name is English’ fanfic is so good. Any advice on getting like. The distinct voices of each of the characters? I’m just dabbling in homestuck fiction and I think I got Dave and rose and jade. But John and the alpha kids are hard

(Edited: I kept thinking about the mistakes I made in this explanation so I’ve finally gone back and fixed them pfffft, Also like... I think I might’ve misconstrued the kind of answer anon was going for, in which case, only the very end end of this long ass response is useful. Welp.)

SO FIRST OFF, I am insanely flattered anyone is asking my advice on how to write Homestuck characters because these are some of the most difficult characters I’ve ever written. Thank you so much! These kids each have an insane amount of dimension to them and I completely understand why they come off a bit intimidating to write correctly. I don’t even think I do that good of a job, lmao. Anywho, I’mma go ahead and apologize in advance because I got a little carried away with my advice. When I get to explaining things I like to over-explain and hope you just pick out what ends up bein actually useful to you. There is... a lot of shit under this cut, so be warned.

Hello! Welcome to this wordy as fuck space under the cut. (Edit: It won’t format correctly so ALL this bullshit under the cut. Thanks tumblr. SMD plz). Unfortunately I can't describe the way they talk without deconstructing a little bit on how I view each of their personalities because a part of me insists it's better to provide context and examples, so again, I'm sorry for these unnecessarily long ramblings. Skip to about the center of each paragraph if you want to focus on speech pattern-specific things, eheheheh.

John's pretty difficult for me too because his vernacular slate isn't as colorful as everyone else's, but this is kind of what I've come to understand about him: His general reaction to everything is a mixture of chipper and blasé--going with the flow. He kind of became the “straight man” in HS to combat the way everyone else was reacting to the wild shit that eventually went down. At face value, the way he talks makes him come off as a simple dude -- what you see is what you get, which isn't necessarily true. He's honest about his feelings but at the same time it seems like he has difficulty processing and understanding them, which makes them come through much milder than what you'd expect for the situation. It's probably why he absorbed his dad's death very slowly and got hit hard when it finally processed that he was gone for good. But not many things get all the way through his initial blaséness which actually makes him kind of callous in that he can give oddly indifferent responses to things others would consider a big deal, such as when Terezi died in front of him. He looked at her corpse and was just like "Eugh. She's so weird." Like damn dude, that’s cold. Ain’t like she bled to death or nothing. Anyway, some speech pattern specific things I keep in mind when I write him: He doesn't use a lot of big words, sticking to casual, simple responses, most of them positive or enthusiastic sounding. He sometimes uses old man speech and idioms, like Jake but toned down by like 85%. He's a bit slow on the uptake, points out the obvious, and says things that he thinks are clever but he's either completely missing the mark or being lame in general, not to say he can't sometimes be particularly sassy/savage, especially when it comes to his immediate friends because he knows them and can see through their bullshit better than he can with other people he doesn't know that well. In the chat client, he likes to divide combined words like "what ever" and "time line". If you're being canon compliant, he adopted some chat quirks from Vriska after they dated, such as multiplying punctuations by 8 for emphasis!!!!!!!! (edit: Ignore this last part. I think I may be thinking of a dead john, lmao.)

Jane's also a little difficult but easier than John since speech-wise, she's more of a balance between him and Jake + if they were super skeptical about everything and cared about being smart. She's actually kind of a wild card to me, because sometimes she has probably some of the most realistic reactions to the more ridiculous things in HS, but has grown used to equally ludicrous happenings such as the assassination attempts on her life in her intro. She also tends to wear her heart on her sleeve, and has quite the temper. She tries to override her more emotional responses with good southern manners because she's polite, god dammit! When her short fuse isn't ignited, her bottomless passion fuels her cheerfulness as well as her fearlessness. She's also pretty inquisitive, about the world around her as well as towards her friends, asking them questions to understand what they may be dealing with better. She tries really hard to be reasonable about things but struggles with letting other things that may be in play ruffle her well-kept feathers. Speech pattern-wise, she vacillates between speaking like a normal teen and a grandma, to a way lesser extent than Jake. Initially, she tries to keep it prim and proper--sophisticated like a southern suburban housewife with an interesting hint of embellished self-narrative like she's the protagonist of a Noir comic (like here), but when real shit starts to go down, she gets quite a bit more casual (like when they're on their quest slabs here). That is to say, I wouldn't say her normal way of talking is something that doesn't come naturally to her because it totally does, but she loses most of the laciness because short and to the point is better, which is the case for any of the kids with more flavorful quirks. She tends to steamroll over other people when she gets passionate about a topic, but when that's not happening, she's actually super accommodating, to the point of viciously ignoring her own feelings so she can be a voice of reason. In the chat client, she uses toothy emojis like :B.

Roxy, on the other hand, comes pretty easily for me because she's really similar to one of my closest friends and speaks much the same way we do when we're chill. We're also from the south, where much of the youth talk like Roxy does, lmao. Roxy is probably the most accommodating of any of the kids, readily bending over backwards to cater to her friends' needs and letting her own needs take a backseat, which probably leads to a lot of resentment she keeps buried. But she's still the chillest one, taking just about everything in stride before and after her alcoholism. She tends to get sad before she ever gets angry. And if she does get angry, it's usually only frustration at others for being difficult. Communication-wise, she's the most shorthanded--thinking and living in chat-speak. She's all about living her best life and taking care of her family so things are fun and peaceful. She wants to be super sure of herself (like Dirk) because she wants to be reliable. When talking, she likes to use a bunch of metaphors (again, like Dirk), and she tends to casually throw in a lot of puns too, such as when she tells Jake that they're still "humanated" when he asks if he's alienated her too. The nature of her responses is typically pretty flippant, even when things are serious. It's probably obvious that getting comfortable with general Ebonics will help a lot when writing her. In chat client, I try to remember these things: typos only happen when she's drunk--when typing her drunk, I avoid actively trying to give her slurred speech. Instead, I kind of let my fingers type a little more haphazardly and leave the typos I made that sound like mistakes she would make. She only tries to correct a small portion of her typos, more frequently the closer she is to sobriety. When she IS sober, her shorthand isn't consistent. One sentence she'll write "u" and the next, she'll write "you". Same thing with "2" and "to" or "4" and "for", etc. She'll cut out unnecessary letters in words, use typical chat abbrevs, and only use singular letters in place of a whole word, like "y" for "yes". Also uses smileys and other signs like <3. She's super fun for me to write because she comes away with a general feeling of "lmao" if that makes any sense.

Jake I'm always worried I'm doing wrong but he seems to be the one people love my characterization of the most so far, lmao. So I guess I must be doing something right. The thing about Jake is he wants to be the "likeable character". He takes what people want in a guy and molds that into this garbled persona. So when he talks to others, even his friends, he tries to be super agreeable, positive and supportive, regardless of the subject matter; he’s always talking these people up to make them feel good about themselves so that they enjoy conversing with him. But the reality is that he's extremely (but not necessarily intentionally) self-centered. He also aggressively ignores anything negative or forcefully turns it into something positive even when it doesn't make sense. He only tends to express frustration when others (Dirk) are being difficult; I don't remember if he ever actually gets angry in the comic?? He also likes to express surprise/amazement at things (a lot more than the other kids do at least), at the beginning of his responses, even when someone says something that's particularly obvious. The thing that gets me about Jake is that his superficial shell is so impenetrable, I don't think that issue was ever really fully addressed, much less fixed in HS, which leaves a lot of questions about his character & several different but valid interpretations of him by the audience. He may very well actually just be an oblivious idiot who's suffered brain damage one too many times (there's not too many pieces of supporting evidence to negate this) but I personally like to think Jake is far more complicated than that. I mean, look at how many convos he's grabbed the helm of and steered into a completely different direction just so he doesn't have to deal with something. His speech is probably the one I have to look up references for the most because he uses a fuckton of idioms you'd only hear one’s well-meaning but probably unintentionally racist poppop use, and a weird mixture of western/country and british vocab + bro speech he probably adopted while talking to Dirk. This is one list I find super useful when trying to find words to use (bless this person), but I still have to google a bunch of goofy phrases and words to be sure I'm not exhausting my material. One thing I know I do wrong when it comes to Jake's speech is use modern British slang such as "bloody" and "bloke", which is something he absolutely never does but I use them anyways because... idfc, I guess, idk. lol, I acknowledge it so it's fine.

Dirk is probably the one that comes easiest to me because he and I behave and talk pretty similarly. Either that, or I just like to think that and I'm just projecting while writing him completely wrong, lmao. Either way, Dirk hides behind the fact that he's super chill and levelheaded when really he's a nervous paranoid wreck. He's always thinking and overthinking about everything and he never gives himself a god damn break. He calculates every response he gives so it comes off exactly the way he wants it to, so when it doesn't because he's caught off guard, you get to see these little snippets of this dude freaking out underneath. He's a neurotic control freak that makes sure the flow of conversation stays on a set course he wants it to or else he gets either uncomfortable or pissed off. He skirts around anything that might get personal to him and dismisses any focus that sheds light on his own emotions UNLESS he feels, again, that he can control that flow of conversation. Or he's already emotionally compromised. Either way, he avoids conditions that might catch him actually being vulnerable because he's just too fuckin' proud. He likes to make a lot of comparisons, using extended metaphors and milking the fuck out of them if he can get away with it because the more he talks, the more he feels in control. He likes to smoothly play along with people he finds are being ridiculous, like Jake and Caliborn, or even just because he knows they'll know he's just playing along like Roxy. That's a key thing for me actually--how much he likes to fuck with people and how inelegantly he takes it in those rare cases someone successfully fucks with him. His speech seems to be a balance between Rose and Dave, a chill bro with access to the biggest vocabulary ever. I encourage aiming towards sounding like a pretentious asshole when writing Dirk because that's what he is all the time sometimes. He likes to Dirk-splain because more often than not he knows exactly what he's talking about, but he also doesn't realize his Dirk-splaining is something no one needed or asked for. Even though he's acknowledged and now resents the ludicrous size of his own ego, he still struggles with not stroking it at every opportunity. He’s a super capable, reliable guy and he knows it, but the reality is that much of what he plans for doesn’t work out. It’s only when he and his friends are really in the shit and he doesn’t have time to think that instinct takes over and he ends up doing some hella amazing things (Unite: Synchronization). That’s why his whole thought process of being better off alone is dangerous--he’s capable because he has people he loves relying on him. (I went off on a tangent unrelated to speech here. I’m sorry. I got a lot of feelings about Dirk and his selfishness vs. his selflessness, lol)

With all that, these are some general notes I try to abide by:

The ramblers of the kids are Dirk, Dave, and Jake, the former two especially when they're anxious. Dave's definitely the worst in that regard. The Striders both act like they wanna come off as men of few words and both fail miserably; it seems like being forced to live in verbal silence for a good portion of their lives gave both of these social wrecks a stigma against any gaps in conversation. Jake on the other hand rambles because he's self-important, not unlike Dirk. It's almost like he's not sure how else to contribute to the conversation if it's not about movies or himself.

For me, it actually helps that I think Dirk and Jake may both be on the spectrum. (I'm sorry if the following offends anyone who is on the spectrum, but this is just my general experience talking to people with those conditions). It certainly explains why their joint communication is so shit and why they either both give long-winded explanations that no one really asks for, or extract themselves from conversations they don't have a good foothold in, the latter being way more common for Jake (I hint a little at all this in my fic, moreso for Jake via Dirk's observations). They both want to be heard but may have difficulty being good listeners because their heads are already filled to the brim with things that have been cycling since before the other person has started talking.

On a final note, I find it pretty important to note the changes in each character's demeanor and way of talking after certain things happen. A glaring example is the Alpha Kids' behaviors after the batshit candy juju episode they all had. When Jake's broken out of his glorified, overwhelmingly positive fake self-image, he's actually very self-critical. However, his self-centeredness is hard to break out of, so when he broods on all the flaws he'd ignored in favor of being the guy everyone likes, he directed all of his nervous energy into finding reassurance from Roxy. (This self-deprecation could've also been born from his constant need to be agreeable, so since he thought everyone considered him to be a piece of shit, he felt the need to agree that was the case. Depends on how you read it.) Roxy had a shorter fuse and was a bit more snappy and resistant to dealing with Jake's ridiculousness. Jane remained calm and acknowledged she can be a bit too stubborn and self-righteous. Dirk finally took a step back from the details and absorbed the big picture of his problematic expectations toward his friends and himself. It’s just something to keep in mind if you fear you’re getting kind of OOC with their personalities. It’s natural for people to behave different based on changes in their mood, so don’t be afraid to experiment.

All that being said (I lied about that final note), I go back and reference the comic a lot when I’m unsure whether I’m representing a character accurately. It’s a good habit to double-check yourself. If you’re unsure how you’re writing a response but wanna move on, write it the best you can and then come back to it later and revise after reading a few conversations that include that character.

Most importantly of all: the thesaurus is your fucking best friend of all time. Fuck everyone else. The thesaurus is your god damn hero. I find “define:”ing words on google actually super helpful when trying to find synonyms that work better for me.

But that’s it! I hope you found at least a few things helpful in that word splurge of fumbling analyses. And thanks a bunch for reading my fic! It’s not super popular so it’s reassuring to know there are people out there who really enjoy it. Keeps me trying to update regularly at the very least.

[solacefruit]

Writing advice meme, 11-20.

I saw this ask meme on this post and I love the concept, so I’m going to take a swing at it myself. The idea is to assess these common pieces of writing advice–i.e., what your interpretation of it, do you like/agree with it, etc.–and as someone who thinks and talks about writing a lot (and is perhaps guilty of giving a lot of advice myself), I have a ton of opinions on what good writing advice looks like and I’m so excited to go through this list with you all. I have to break it up into separate posts because I talk too much, so here’s the second set (11-20)! 

11. Write what you love. This one’s fascinating to me, because I always think: as if you ever had a choice. You’re a writer. Some things are going to sink their claws into you so deeply, and that’s just... how it is. What point is there in fighting that? Certain tropes, or character archetypes, or genres, or concepts, or themes (and most likely: all of the above) are going to resonate with you in profound, gleeful ways, and you’re almost inevitably going to come back to them over and over again, because you can’t leave them alone--or they won’t leave you alone, whichever it is. And that’s fine. That’s normal. My advice is lean into it. Figure out what are your specific brands of weird stuff and have fun! 

12. Never use a long word where a short one will do. Terrible advice. Size doesn’t matter. Function matters. Does the word do what it needs to do in this moment, in this sentence, in this passage, in this story? If the answer is yes, then it’s the right word. You don’t need to swap it out for a skinnier model. 

Side-note, however: if you’re using long words to try to sound smart, or you’re using complicated words but wouldn’t be able to quickly define it if I asked you on the street--don’t do that. Use shorter words that you can use confidently. That’s the key. 

13. Less is more. This is something I broadly consider to be good advice, especially when it comes to world-building. I definitely subscribe to the iceberg theory of world-building, which is that the reader should only see the most necessary fragment of it--but have the unshakeable sense that there’s a huge amount unseen underneath. As a reader, I tend to most love stories that leave me a little hungry, though, so perhaps that’s a big part of why I am usually heavy on the side of wanting a lot of white space in the stories I write as well as the ones I read. It’s more satisfying to me. 

14. Never use the passive when you can use the active voice. I think this is one of those times when people are trying to pass off their personal taste as advice, because I don’t think this is sound. For the most part, my response to this one is the same as twelve (see above): use the voice that suits the moment. Not every sentence has to be active to be good.

15. Show, don’t tell. People should be arrested for saying this phrase without explaining it*. It’s pithy, but that’s so far from the same thing as useful. Here’s the truth: “telling” is fine. There are lots of times when “telling” is going to be more appropriate and better for your story than “showing,” especially depending on the style of story you’re writing and how you’re writing it. What matters is figuring out when to tell and when to show, rather than committing to trying to show everything. 

*Oh, yeah also: “showing” means indirectly world-building, character-building, etc. by allowing the reader to infer or interpret details for themselves. “Telling” means directly providing narration (or other explicit information on the page) that informs your reader of certain facts or details. For example, you could say “he was nervous” (telling) or you could say “his palms were sweating” (showing). Sometimes one will be a better fit than the other. Choose wisely. 

16. Start your story on a train. I really have no strong feelings about this one way or another, except for the fun fact that I actually have a novel concept for a story that starts on a train and then never leaves the train.  

17. Rules are made to be broken. I get what this is often trying to express, but in the case of writing, rules actually are made to ease communication and enable precise communication by providing us with mutual languages and valuable touchstones. The thing about “breaking” rules in this context is it’s actually kind of just another new way of manipulating that mutual language--and often new rules and conduct form around these aberrations. But I guess this is all semantics, so. Sure? Communication is in a permanent state of becoming, and sometimes that looks like broken rules. 

18. The first draft of everything is shit. Firstly, this isn’t advice. Secondly, if it was, it would be bad advice. It’s certainly something I can’t relate to: nearly all my works--academic and fiction--are only an edit or two away from a first draft, and my first drafts are usually quite sound. I’ve found if you do things basically right the first time, it saves a lot of effort. Not to dunk on anyone, but it’s really not that hard.  

19. Write drunk, edit sober. I’ve done this--or at least, written while pleasantly buzzed on a good amount of wine--but I can’t say I’m any more or less effective as a writer than when I write sober. In many ways, it’s in fact a lot easier to write when sober, because the part of my body I use for writing is my brain and when it’s soaked in wine, it’s actually not as good at thinking as my perhaps less-fun-but-more-useful wineless brain. I definitely cannot recommend anyone drink in order to write, because down that dark path lies madness. Have some drinks and talk to other writers who’ve also had drinks about your projects instead, because that is way more fun than trying to write when you’ve had drinks. Also, drink responsibly and in accordance with the laws of your place of residence. 

20. Write stoned, edit stoneder. This isn’t one I’ve done, but my instinct says no. Probably not a good idea. Go watch a bad movie with your friends instead. 

[ihaventspokenyet]

Nothing A Little Red Lipstick Can’t Solve (Mando x Reader)

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: language, flirting, suggestive language (no actual intercourse), drinking, make-out (kinda?), reader insert (idk if that’s a warning), this was made and edited around 4 am soooooo yeah

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the mentioned characters from, “The Mandalorian”. I do not own you and have no affiliation with Disney, Disney Plus, or The Mandalorian. This is simply a fan fiction story.

A/N: It’s like 4 am and I just needed to get this out of my system. It’s not like super smutty, but I’ve been dying to write about Mando for some time and just needed to post something. Please leave back constructive criticism if you can and I hope this isn’t too bad. ALSO this is a repost bc it wasn’t showing up in the tags

—

The yearly ball was being thrown and everyone who was somebody or extremely wealthy would be there. Famous across the galaxy for being lavish and full of women and men who held a high status in their planets, it was only accessible via an invite or through connections. Your father had been a contributor for the event since you could remember, so he and his family were always welcome at the event; however, you were never really one for a crowded dance floor full of sweaty bodies and girls who acted a little too helpless in hopes of luring in a sugar daddy. But this week was different, you had been stuck inside your home with little entertainment due to a security breach and your father wanted to ensure his families safety. You were antsy and deprived of your fun for far too long so you decided a night of messing with the hearts of “pretty boys” who only wanted to get in your pants would be great entertainment for your dull week.

So here you are, preparing with your friend ,Seliah, since you didn’t want to be alone all night. Deciding to dress less flashy than most, you opted for a long pale pastel-blue satin dress with a slightly slightly plunged neckline and a slit in the middle starting from just above your knees. You decorated your outfit with a white shawl that hung just below your shoulders, nude heels, and a deep red lip.

Looking at yourself in the mirror and satisfied with your appearance, you made your way to the ball. The evening began a little hectic as men and some women swarmed you for pictures, a chance to engage with someone of such a high profile, or in attempts to pursued you into participating in lewd activities.

After successfully shooing everyone away, you had settled down to talk with Seliah and decided to order a drink in hopes of replacing the boredom with a little booze. You had noticed a handsome young man eyeing her all night and–deciding to be a good friend, encouraged her to talk to him--but now you were completely and utterly drenched in boredom.

A metallic glint caught your attention and you were surprised to see a fellow (or perhaps toned lady?) decked out in beskar, extremely unfitting of the occasion. Surprised you didn’t see him sooner and pleased to see such a change in pace in this type of event, you smirked to yourself; you smelled adventure. This person was either important, intimidated their way in, or had manage to gain entry by lying. A tingle ran down your spine, boy were you feeling mischievous at thought of stirring up some trouble with the helmeted being. Downing the last of your drink and re-applying your lipstick, you sauntered your way over to the Mandalorian.

“I have to say, I absolutely love the way you’re dressed. Very fitting for the occasion,” you purred and slipped into the chair next to them.

The person snorted and, although slightly distorted by the modulator, sounded like a man.

“Man of few words huh? You don’t see many Mandalorians often, especially not here. I’m guessing you’re here to stir up some trouble,” you speculated.

“You’re Aldone L/N’s daughter. It’s a surprise to see you at an event like this.” He finally spoke up, turning his head to look at you.

“So I was right, there’s no way you’re a casual attendee would pay attention to me,” you smirked. “So what’re you here for? Let me guess, one of these assholes got themselves into trouble and managed to get a bounty on their head?” you questioned.

“I have no business with you. I suggest you turn away before you get yourself into trouble,” he responded, looking back at his untouched drink.

You chuckled and leaned in close to his helmet, “That may work on anyone else, but I’m sure you know that if you tried to lay as much as a finger on me, my father would put a bounty on your head and that would risk your little operation.” You speculated in a hushed tone, “Am I wrong?”

“What do you want?” He finally asked, standing to look at you and clearly readying himself to leave.

“I want in on whatever you’re going to pull tonight.. You can’t deny that I would be a beneficial ally.” you proposed, standing in an attempt to match his demeanor but he was much taller, despite your heals.

“What do you gain from helping me?” He asked, puzzled and hesitant to believe that the daughter of a powerful man who he was going to rob from would help him.

You grinned, with mischief was prominent in your eyes, ”to ruin the fun of all the dirty bastards here and to minorly inconvenience ‘daddy’s’ event… also, why would I miss the chance at fun night with a Mandalorian?”

“Fine. But if you try to sell me out-” he started.

“Yeah yeah big guy, i’ve heard it all,” you shushed him and took a sip of his drink.

He had hesitantly explained part of the plan and omitted any specific information; grab some documents that held information regarding someone he had captures (can you guess who? ). The hardest part would be making your way up with such a flashy man.

“Follow my lead.” you whispered to him, grabbing his hand and placing a flirty smile on your face.

He definitely didn’t trust you yet, so he was hesitant to follow you and he wasn’t one for physical touch; you were only slightly overstepping his boundaries. Your sudden grasp of his (armored) hand threw him off. If the touching wasn’t enough, he definitely didn’t expect whatever the hell you were going to do next.

“Ma’am nobody is allowed to-” a guard had attempted to stop you, but you flashed a pass.

“I have special access. And I just want a room, if you catch my drift.” you said flashing Mando a flirty look.

The guard became embarrassed and uncomfortable at your insinuation.

“Ye-Yes ma’am,” he stuttered, stepping aside.

You pulled the Mandalorian up the stairs and he followed closely, albeit a bit flustered at your actions--he’d never admit it though.

“Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable there. It’s just that stuff like that makes people more vulnerable to persuasion,” you threw him a smile.

You turned a few hallways and finally made your way to the one that held the papers. This hallway was forbidden, even for you, so you’d have to be extra careful. You heard a guard approaching so you quickly messed up your hair and wrapped Mando’s hand across your waist.

Leaning in close, you whispered a quick, “Take me to a room, I’m drunk.”

He thankfully got the message and gave a curt nod.

“Hey! You can’t be here!” An armed guard made his way to you both.

“Mr. Aldones daughter needs a place to sober up, we’re just looking for a room.” he spoke as you acted like the best damn drunk you could concur up from (many) passed experiences.

“This is a forbidden area.” He cautioned.

You immediately pretended to cry, “Don’t yell at me! I’m going to tell daddy you’re being insabordinate!” You slurred and hiccupped.

“Nice going, you made the girl cry,” the Mandalorian spoke up. You could hear the slightest hint of amusement from him.

“No I-I didn’t mean to- Please don’t tell your father,” he begged.

“I’ll make sure she keeps quiet, but you should get out of here. You know what her father would do to someone who makes his daughter upset, don’t you?” Mando warned.

The guard nodded and thanked Mando before running off.

“You don’t seem like the type that would act so well.” You replied, wiping a bit of mascara and loose tears from your eyes.

You took out your key and fiddled with the lock.

“Shit..” you mumbled. This lock was reinforced much better than the rest, “I can’t-”

“Move aside,” Mando spoke.

Pressing some buttons on his wrist cuff, the Mandalorian successfully shot the lock. He entered quickly and looked through the papers inside. He found a locked box hidden between a messy pile of books and smashed it with his fists. The grunt he let out from the power of his punch caused a shock to course through your body and your thighs to clench.

“I got it-” he was cut off by a screeching alarm.

“Shitshitshit..” your eyes widened with  genuine fear of being caught filled your body.

You must’ve been blinded by your want of fun because you genuinely didn’t think about the consequences of being caught. Mando quickly took your wrist and ran down to the hall into the nearest bathroom.

“Okayokay, it’s fine this is fine,” you breathed, beginning to hyperventilate.

You liked to cause chaos, but you might’ve gone too far this time; why was this document so important? If you survived this, you were never coming here again. Suddenly, an idea popped into your mind (definitely not a good one, but it was really your only chance of running free).

“I got it!” you yelled, digging through your purse for your dark red lipstick, “if there’s one thing i’ve learned from years of fucking around, it’s that theres nothing a red lipstick can’t solve.” you said while you pulled out the delicate tube.

Quickly leaning over the mirror, you applied a coat of the silky crimson color and then smeared it with your hand. You went to apply a second coat and then turned to face him.

“Not to sound thirsty, but we have to make out so they think we’re doing it.. and I know the faces of Mandalorians can’t be seen so you’ll have to give me some marks as proof, I can wrap my eyes with this shawl” You spoke urgently, but awkwardly.

He seemed to stare at you through his visor for a good minute, likely looking for an alternative to making out. You began to feel small under his gaze, maybe the idea was THAT terrible and he was rethinking his alliance with you? You hoped he wouldn’t think you’re too strange after this. The bounty hunter tried to think of an alternative, coming up with nothing, he sighed and went to lock the door and shut the lights.

“Turn around and close your eyes,” he ordered, waiting for you to comply.

You hesitantly turned your back to him and heard the sound of something popping off and then hissing. You won’t lie, the authority in his voice was very… alluring. You felt a heavy pressure over your head, before realizing he was sliding the helmet onto your head and your vision was purely black.

“… I’m sorry about this..” He spoke, seeming genuinely apologetic.

“No worries cowboy, you’re not the worst person I could be stuck doing this with,” you joked, hoping to ease his tension, “in fact, your voice tells me you’re a real looker,” you teased.

Snorting, he held your hip and hesitantly dove for your neck. All he needed to do was leave two or three marks so it would be believable. Your breathe hitched as he began running his lips over your throat. Biting your lip and gripping his shoulder, you forced yourself to swallow gasps he gently coaxed reddish-purple bruises to the surface with his lips; you didn’t want to seem too eager.

“They won’t think anything’s happening if you don’t make noise,” He warned with an even voice, only slightly breathless from his actions.

Was he unfazed by all of this? Here you were struggling to contain ALL sorts of noises, only for him to be nonchalant about the whole situation. Hurt because of his seeming lack of interest, you were pulled into your thoughts. Trying to feel where you were (and trying to not accidentally touch you too inappropriately) he slid his hand to your knee and gave it a good squeeze; a warning that you had to make this believable. Increasing the pressure of his kiss to you throat, you let out a few breathy groans just as someone knocked on the door. Mando quickly took his helmet off of you and placed it on his head. You slid your dress straps off of your shoulder and pretended to cover your chest with your shawl before opening the door.

“Y-yes? Is there a problem,” you asked flushed and breathless because you felt like a mess and because you were (unfortunately) turned on.

“Oh um.. I don’t suppose you heard anybody sneaking around here, down that hallway,” a female guard asked, flustered and pointed to the hallway you had just stolen from.

“No, I’ve been..” you cleared your throat and smiled, “busy in here.”

She nodded and ran off to check the rest of the rooms. Checking the hallway, you pulled your straps up and pulled the Mandalorian down the stairs and back to the first floor. Amongst the commotion, you had managed to escape the building and ran with Mando to wherever he was going. Embarassed that you looked like a mess from the fake ��sex”, you covered your face with the small shawl. You stopped behind an alleyway and caught your breath.

“Thank you.. It couldn’t have gone better without you,” Mando spoke up.

You looked up at him, flushed, and nodded your head slowly while wiping away the lipstick you had smeared on your chin.

“No worries, this was exciting. A little too exciting.. I doubt I’ll be doing any shenanigans anytime soon,” you laughed awkwardly.

He let out a chuckle and pulled out a pouch.

“I’m sorry for the..” he trailed off pointing to his neck, “Take this, for your trouble.” he handed you a pouch of money.

You shook your head, “Keep it. This was fun and in case you’ve forgotten, I am wealthy,” you joked in a stereotypical pompous accent, “If you ever decide to come back, maybe we can spend some more time together,” you suggested, hoping you’d see him again.

He thought about it, nodded, and turned to leave with a final thanks. You sighed and leaned up against the wall; he turned you the hell on and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want more. Biting your lip you began to walk home, smirking to yourself as you remembered the red-lip mark you’d left on the inside of his mask; he had to have seen it and you were curious as to why he didn’t mention it.

“Y/N! There you are! Where the hell did you go?” Seliah yelled in the distance.

“Hey Sel? Where did you buy me this lipstick again? I accidentally broke it,” You spoke.

“Um? Are we going to ignore the fact that you look like a total mess?” She sighed, “let’s take you home, we can shop for it tomorrow… wait where did you get those hickies?! Your father is going to kill you!”

“He can’t if he doesn’t find out,” you sung and began walking home.

[hardnoctlife]

Author Asks

Decided to go ahead and answer these for anyone who might be interested.

1.       Describe your comfort zone—a typical “you” fic.

Domestic fluff, modern or school AU, with a sprinkling of angst. I’m really trying to work outside of my comfort zone, but I don’t really like too many crazy AUs.

2.       Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

I really want to do enemies-to-lovers, but it’s so hard to pull off convincingly and I’m afraid I’m going to mess it up.

3.       Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole?

MPREG…just…no. Also, most dub-con.

4.       How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

I’m currently working on a rewrite of one of my first fics “The Insomnian Academy for the Elite.” It’s called “Stand by You” in the new version! That’s it right now other than brainstorming for the Promptis Big Bang and trying to finish WDES Verse 2.

5.       Share one of your strengths.

In writing? I think I do fun and convincing dialogue.

6.       Share one of your weaknesses.

I’d say I spend more time writing dialogue than descriptions. I also sometimes have issues with pacing.

7.       Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it. 

Chapter 10 of “Write Drunk, Email Sober.” I feel like I nailed everything about that chapter, from the emotion, to the dialogue...it’s my favorite thing I’ve written.

In that moment, something clicks into place for Prompto, like being shifted from the shallow to the deep end of a pool. He realizes there is much more to Ignis Scientia than just his ease on the eyes, and Prompto knows that he wants to dive even further into his depths.  

Prompto’s smile comes naturally, full and delighted. Ignis mirrors it with his own.

“Boyfriend to Professor Scientia has a nice ring to it,” Prompto agrees. Ignis touches their noses, rubbing them together briefly before bestowing a kiss on the blond’s lips. They sink back into the bed and downwards, and Prompto is amazed to discover you can be lost and simultaneously found.

8.       Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it. 

Most of “Rain or Shine and Everything In-Between,” because I felt like the dialogue was natural and fun, but also very true to life. My favorite scene is what I think is the most hard hitting of the entire fic: 

“Tell me what’s the matter,” Ignis said as soon as the man had left the room, and Noctis made a show of studying the tips of his naga-skin boots, putting more weight on his good ankle. “Noctis?”

“I can’t do this, Ignis.”

“It’s only a tie, Noct—”

“No, this.” Noctis waved his hands at the whole room, and although it wouldn’t have been clear to anyone else, Ignis knew what he meant.

The prince’s advisor felt his heart skip a beat as he studied Noctis in the mirror, their eyes finally meeting as the prince’s chin jutted forward, stubborn, yet beautiful.

“What are you saying?” Ignis asked, pragmatic and cautious.

“I can’t do this, Iggy!” Noctis’s voice rose, skipping off the marble floors. “I won’t! I’m going to tell my father everything. I’m fucking gay for Bahamut’s sake, how I am supposed to make an heir, let alone have sex with my wife—”

“Shh,” Ignis implored, coming forward to squeeze Noctis’s shoulders in warning. “Shh,” he said a little more quietly, bringing his head to rest against Noctis’s cheek.

“I can’t—I can’t. Please, don’t make me do this!” Noctis’s heart was breaking, and Ignis’s was breaking along with it, and all this was so much more than choosing a stupid tie.

9.       Which fic has been the hardest to write?

I’d say, “Daemons that Live in the Dark.” It was the heaviest content-wise. I had to take a lot of breaks to mentally and emotionally recharge between chapters, and the ending gave me the most trouble.

10.   Which fic has bee the easiest to write?

“Write Drunk, Email Sober.” It was so fun to write, and I didn’t stop writing it from start to finish. It felt easy!

11.   Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

I’d say a bit of both. I wanted to be a writer since I was in middle school, and even aspired to be an author at one point. I didn’t rediscover it until last year when surgery made me unable to be active and I needed something to do to manage my mental health.

12.   What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

When you get stuck, don’t be afraid to skip ahead and write scenes out of order. For me, this is especially helpful because I get certain scenes in my head that I want to jot down, but sometimes have trouble leading up to them.

13.   What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Not advice, exactly, but the idea that more kudos/hits/comments on a certain fic on AO3 = good/better. There have been popular fics that I have hated, and other ones with fewer kudos, etc. that I have absolutely loved. Everything is going to hit different from person to person, so you need to be true to you and what you like and not compare yourself to everyone else.

14.   If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

“Write Drunk, Email Sober” for sure. It would be hilarious to watch.

15.   If you only could write on pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

Does OT4 count as a pairing? Because I vote that.

16.   Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Typically from start to finish unless I’m have a particular scene in mind that I need to get out, or if I’m having trouble writing a scene I might skip ahead and go back later.

17.   Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

No…I probably should. I use prompts a lot though, and music for inspiration.

18.   Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in a basement. Do you have a muse?

Yes—my wife.

19.   Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Rainy day in a coffee shop, big latte, and spotify playlist on in the background.

20.   How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting.

I read through it once myself, let my wife read it and make edits, and then read it again. After posting I’ll read it a third time and usually still catch any errors I missed.

21.   Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style.

I’m currently doing this with my fic, “Stand by You.”

22.   If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

“Stand by You” and “Dawn of the Godslinger,” mostly because I loved the concepts, but I feel like my writing has improved dramatically since I first wrote them and they’re in desperate need of updating.

23.   Have you ever deleted on of your published fics?

Yes, a few of my earlier ones. The writing and characterization was cringey.

24.   What do you look for in a beta?

My wife has an MFA and is an editor so I’m lucky to have her as my beta.

25.   Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

Yes! You have to edit your own work…I look for typos/grammar errors and characterization mostly.

26.   How do you feel about collaborations?

With the right people they are a ton of fun! But if you have a bad partner they can be miserable. Overall, I really enjoy them.

27.   Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Crazyloststar – mostly because she and I have very similar writing styles and she has GREAT characterization and very fun ideas. Definitely look up to her!

Carolyncaves – because they wrote one of my favorite fanfics ever, “Something Just Like This,” which is a great example of an ace person in a relationship and makes me think of my wife.

HigharollaKockamamie – because they wrote one of my other favorite fanfics, “The Temptation of Saint Anthony, but with This Guy,” which is the only fic that has ever made me like Ardyn.

28.   If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Oh man...probably something by @crazyloststar

29.   Do you accept prompts?

Yes! I love them 😊

30.   Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I like to keep character’s personalities as canon as possible, but other than that it’s fair game. My number one pet peeve when reading fanfic is when authors don’t get the characterization right.

31.   How do you feel about smut?

I enjoy it if I’m in the mood to read it, but I’m not a huge fan of writing it. I’d rather focus on the emotions behind character relationships rather than the physical aspects.

32.   How do you feel about crack?

I’m not a huge fan of crack fics, reading or writing them.

33.   What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

IF and only if it is woven into a story artfully, I can tolerate it. I do not like fics that focus specifically on non-con or dub-con as being sexy or attractive, and I refuse to write those kinds of fics. With that said, one of my fics does revolve around the idea that the antagonist rapes the main character, but it is not glorified in any way.

34.   Would you ever kill off a canon character?

If it furthered the plot and I was going for angst, sure.

35.   Which is your favorite site to post fic?

Ao3

36.   Talk about your current wips.    

Currently I’m working on “Stand by You,” my Promptis HS AU rewrite, and gearing up for the Promptis Big Bang. I also still have to finish WDES Verse 2.

37.   Talk about a review that made your day.

Pretty much any of the comments on WDES…any comment, really.

38.   Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I’ve gotten a handful. I typically delete them and move on. Otherwise, I respond to all comments.

[the-quiet-winds]

Changing Like the Tides

a new oneshot by @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts and i! woo! this was originally a joke between us, and then we settled in to write it and it went a very different direction.

[12am edit: thank god for scheduled posts]

not much else to say but enjoy!

“girls night” sounded like a good idea to katherine until jane ordered her first cocktail, when she realized her mum hadn’t had a drink more than a glass of sweet wine in...how many years? 

but she hasn’t realized that yet. “cheers, mum,” katherine says, raising her own drink.

“cheers, kat,” jane smiles, clinking their glasses together. “it’s so nice to get some us time, you know? we’re always so busy on tour these days.”

she takes a sip of her drink through the straw. the slight face of shock jane made at the strength of it really should have tipped katherine off to how the evening was going to go, but instead she brushed it off.

they talk as they sip their drinks, jane’s voice gradually rising in volume as she finishes. then asks for another drink. katherine probably should have stopped her, but she really didn’t think about it in the moment. it wasn’t until jane finished her second drink, already in a heavily tipsy haze, that katherine made the connection of the strength of the alcohol and her generally sober mother.

“shall i get us another one?” jane asks brightly, voice slurring just enough to worry katherine. she shakes her head.

“it’s okay, mum, I think I’ve had enough.” what she really meant was ‘I think you’ve had enough’, but katherine didn’t want to offend jane or anything like that.

“suit yourself!” jane says with a bubbly giggle, then orders herself another. by the end of her third, everything is more than hazy, but she can see her beautiful daughter’s face in front of her. “oh my darling kat,” she murmurs with a watery smile. “how much your mum loves you.” then, even in the dark of the bar, it’s obvious that there are tears on jane’s cheeks.

katherine shifts slightly uncomfortably, noticing the tear tracks on jane’s cheeks. “i love you too, mum.” she glances around once before looking back to jane. “um, do you think it might be time to head back? I mean, it’s getting late.”

that much was true, although they’d specifically chosen this night to be a girl’s night because they didn’t have a show the next day, so in theory they could stay out as long as they wanted. in practice, however, katherine would rather get jane back home considering the emotional state she was in.

“no not at all!” jane protests, wiping at her eyes. “your old mum is breaking up the fun. this night is for you.” jane puts a hand on katherine’s. “you, my lovely daughter.”

despite the situation, katherine can’t help but smile at jane’s words; even now, the reassurance that jane really did love her and considered her to be her daughter made katherine feel overwhelmed with love. she decides to drop it for the moment and just enjoy the moment with her mum.

“can we get some snacks or something?” she asks jane, who smiles.

“of course, darling.”

when katherine requested snacks, she didn’t expect nachos, pretzels, sliders, and a cheese plate to materialize before them. but they did. and, unfortunately, so did a fourth drink for jane. katherine is still incredibly sober, nights with the other queens made sure of that, but as jane finishes her fourth cocktail, the sad-drunk comes out again. she grabs kat’s hand and doesn’t let go. “have i ever told you,” jane starts, words slurred and eyes slightly lidded, “how proud i am of you? every night you just go onstage and and...” she makes a slow sort of punching movement. “i love watching you sing and dance...you make your ol’ mum so proud...” there are tears in jane’s eyes again, yet they stay there.

“mum, i know,” katherine says awkwardly. “i love watching you perform too.” she pauses for a second, before continuing. “mum, are you okay?”

“of course i am, kitty-kat,” jane laughs a little bit too hard. “i’m with you! how could I ever be anything less than okay when i’m with my wonderful, perfect girl?” she smiles, but a second later she’s sniffling and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“mum, maybe we should go,” katherine says, trying to ignore the rush of affection at jane’s words. “i think you’re a little drunk.”

“me? drunk? psh,” jane laughs again, but then the tears return. “i just can’t stop thinking about how much i love you, kat. how happy you make me every single day.” she leans over to the young couple next to them, two women, somewhere between kat and jane’s age. “this is my daughter,” she slurs. “she’s perfect in every way.”

“sorry,” katherine mouthes silently at the two slightly startled women. she takes jane’s arm and gently pulls until jane’s sitting upright again, but jane stands up on her unsteady legs with a broad smile.

“excuse me,” she says to an older woman who happens to be passing by. “have you met my sweet perfect angel daughter?”

“mum!” katherine says more insistently. “i really think it’s time for us to head home!”

jane, in her boozy delusional fog, thinks she realizes what’s going on and it makes her wants to cry again. she throws a fifty on the table, not even caring about change, and drags katherine out of the bar with an unsettling degree of toughness. “are you ashamed of your mum? is that it?” she hisses once they’re outside. “don’t want to be seen in public with my mum!” jane says in a mocking falsetto.

“no, of course not!” katherine gasps, half indignant and half upset by the accusation. “I love going places with you! i’m just worried about you, mum.”

jane clearly wasn’t listening, holding katherine’s hand tightly as she pulls her down the street. “fine, let’s find a taxi if you want to go home so badly. serves me right for trying to have a good night out with my daughter.” her voice cracks at the end of the sentence and before she knows it tears are streaming down her face.

luckily, the street is fairly quiet. jane stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk and cries, face in hands and shoulder shaking. “if you didn’t want to go out with me,” jane says with a cracked voice through her tears, “you should have just said so. i’m sure boleyn or parr would have been just as happy.” her voice lowers. “why would you ever want to go out with your mum?” it’s mean to be sarcastic, but it just sounds pathetic to the vey drunk jane.

“mum, no, that’s not it!” katherine practically pleads. “i wanted to go with you!” she tries to take jane’s hands in hers but jane doesn’t let her, pushing katherine’s hands away. “why don’t we go home and talk about it there?” katherine beseeches her, eyes wide.

that was evidently the wrong thing to say.

“you are embarrassed!” jane sobs. “what’s the matter, am I causing a scene?” the mocking tone she tries to put in her voice is almost completely covered by the upset and hurt in her voice. katherine catches hold of jane’s arm.

“mum, listen to me, please!” she begs desperately.

jane roughly pulls away from katherine. her tears and her anger just keep coming (katherine makes a note that jane never gets vodka again, ever.) “you are embarrassed of me!” jane wails. then her voice goes stone soft, nearly sending a chill down katherine’s spine. “do you even want me anymore?” she pulls her face out of her hands to look at katherine, cheeks red and eyes burning with tears and drunk foolery. “did you ever even want me?”

“what?” katherine says, wide eyed and shocked. “mum, of course i do! I always have!” she tries to swallow down the lump in her throat but tears start glistening in her eyes before she can stop them.

“I love you, mum,” she chokes out. “please, you have to believe me.”

still jane isn’t listening, her drunken tears and anger (but mostly alcohol) blurring her mind. “i’m so sorry for forcing my way into your life,” she cries, anger giving way to just despair and heartbreak.

it takes all of katherine’s self-control not to burst into tears. she wasn’t getting anywhere with trying to reason with jane, that was clear, and she desperately racked her brain trying to think of what to do. all she could think of was that she needed to get jane home and safe; as much as it hurt her, she’d have to let jane be angry and upset with her until they get home, and hopefully jane would be slightly more sober then. although how she’s going to get jane into a taxi in this state katherine has no idea. she thinks as hard as she can, trying not to let jane’s accusations hurt her and failing as each word sends a pain straight to her heart and makes her stomach twist.

she pushes down her emotions and hails a cab. “come on you,” she commands, pulling on jane’s hand to get her into the taxi. she gives the driver the address, and the short drive is full of jane’s tears and incomprehensible words. the car stops outside their house and katherine flips the driver a 20 on an £8 tab and drags her mother inside.

katherine manages to get jane inside and sitting down on the couch before jane rips her arm from katherine’s grip. “we’re home now,” she says, voice thick and words barely distinguishable. “you can just leave me here, go and do whatever you actually want to do.” She dissolves into tears again and even more than the harsh words it hurts katherine to see her mother so upset like this. she sits down next to jane on the couch, almost sideways so she can look at her mum.

jane looks up just enough to see katherine’s ashen face. katherine’s hands fidget in her lap, fingers clenching and unclenching. jane laughs mirthlessly. “well now you’re just mocking me.”

“i’m not,” Katherine says quietly. jane raises an eyebrow.

“then why are you still here?”

“because i want to.” katherine’s a little bit bolder and she turns to face jane properly. jane gives a humourless laugh.

“no you don’t. I should have known better to begin with.”

“mum,” katherine starts, hating how much she sounds like a broken child. “why are you saying these things?”

“isn’t it true?” jane demands. 

“no, mum,” katherine answers. her voice is weak and whimpery. “why won’t you believe me?”

“because you’re you!” jane bursts out suddenly. “you’re bright and beautiful and young and perfect, why would you ever want to spend time with your mum?” she stops, clasping a hand over her mouth as the tears start to fall again. “why would you ever want to spend time with me?”

the words hang between them for an agonizingly long time. katherine can’t even formulate a response, she’s so struck by the statement. “you have so much life and light,” jane whimpers, “what could i possibly offer you?”

katherine stares, words failing her. she’d spent the whole time since first meeting being so worried that she wasn’t good enough for jane, that sweet, kind, maternal, perfect jane would get sick of trying to fix this broken little girl and not want to spend any time with her any more, and not for one second had she ever considered that jane didn’t think she was good enough for katherine. it was almost inconceivable to her, and her mind couldn’t make sense of jane ever thinking that she was the one who wasn’t good enough.

“you don’t even realise, do you?” katherine says softly, the words slipping out accidentally. jane frowns through her tears.

“realise what?”

jane could feel the alcohol pounding through her system, but something clears out when she hears katherine’s accidental middle of words. 

“realize what?”

“mum...” katherine starts brokenly, “you’ve offered me the only thing i’ve ever wanted.” she sniffles. “a family, a protector, someone who loves me for me.” katherine wipes at her eyes without breaking her gaze. “you, mum, are the best thing about this rotten world.”

katherine’s words cut through jane’s alcohol-induced state. she pauses, looking at katherine, at her tearstained face and wide honest eyes, and something hits her.

“you... you really mean that?” she says hoarsely, words no louder than a whisper.

katherine’s tiny smile manages to reach her eyes. “of course, mum. that day you invited me over for dinner,” she reaches over and takes both of jane’s hands, “you changed my life. i couldn’t imagine it without you, mum.”

“kat,” jane says, voice trembling. “oh, kitty-kat.”

she pulls katherine into a hug, tears flowing again as she holds her daughter tightly. “oh, sweetheart,” she sobs. “i’m sorry, i don’t know what came over me.” the alcohol still in her system meant that her tears flow faster than ever, and she can’t bring herself to let go of katherine, not yet.

katherine smiles through her own tears as she snuggles into her mother’s arms. “it’s alright mum,” katherine whispers. “maybe it’s time for bed for you.”

jane begrudgingly agrees, allowing kat to lead her up the stairs. by the time kat goes to her room, changes, and comes back, jane is already passed out. katherine, unable to resist, crawls onto the mattress and curls into her mum’s side, wanting nothing more than to be close and let her mum know that she is the most important person in katherine’s life.

———————————————————————————————————–

tag list: @percabeth15 @kats-seymour @qualquercoisa945 @jane-fucking-seymour @a-slightly-cracked-egg @justqueentingz @annabanana2401 @wolfies-chew-toy @broad-way-13 @tvandmusicals @lailaliquorice @aimieallenatkinson @sweet-child-why03 @gaylinda-of-the-upper-uplands @funky-lesbians@thinkaboutitmaybe @hansholbeingoesaroundzeworld @anaamess @beeskneeshuh @prick-up-ur-ears @theartoflazy@justqueentwo @brother-orion @paleshadowofadragon @lafemmestars @beautifulashes17 @jarneiarichardnxel @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff @sixcago @mixer1323 @boleynssixthfinger @aimieallen @elphiesdance @boleynthebunny @krystalhuntress @lupin-loves-chocolate @bellacardoza16

[giftwrappingpaper]

Practice ficlet request (because I adore your writing): drunk wwx and sober Lan Zhan?

happens during wwx’s time in the cloud recesses as a student, continuing my avoidance of writing postcanon wangxian haha

edit: polished and edited version posted on ao3

—–

He finds Wei WuXian at a bar in CaiYi Town far past their curfew, a large jug of Emperor’s Smile in front of him and a giggling maiden under each arm. Neither of them should be awake, much less outside the Cloud Recesses; his skin is crawling at the mere thought of how many rules he is breaking.

Multitudes, most definitely. With each step he takes, every rule he has defied flashes before his eyes like sunlight flickering on the mossy ground of a dense forest.

It’s improper. Unrighteous. It’s against everything Lan WangJi has been taught to overcome his entire life.

It’s the person he has been searching for for the past couple of hours. It’s the person he has found making a fool of himself in a bar — his attitude, shamelessness, and mere existence defiling the proper image a cultivator should uphold for those they have pledged since birth to protect.

“Wei WuXian,” Lan WangJi says. He does not step inside the bar, electing to stay at the entrance. He calls for him again when he doesn’t get a response.

When he looks up, Wei WuXian’s cheeks are flushed and his lips are spotted with wine. No other guest disciple is with him, and he is surrounded instead by wide-eyed commonfolk who find his shamelessness — rather uncommon from a cultivator, especially in Gusu — amusing.

His laughter is boisterous and was what had drawn Lan WangJi to the bar during his search for Wei WuXian in the first place. He would recognize that laugh anywhere. It has only been a few months since he had first heard it, but already it has imprinted itself onto Lan WangJi’s brain. Like a parasite. An unwelcomed pest.

The back of Lan WangJi’s neck feels both hot and cold.

“Laaaaaan Zhaaaaan!” Wei WuXian greets. He lifts an arm from the shoulder of one of the girls at his side and frantically waves at him. “You’ve finally got that stick out of your ass, huh? Here, have a drink with me!”

Lan WangJi knows inebriation when he sees it. From the way Wei WuXian sloppily slicks his sweat-soaked bangs from his face, to how his outer robe drapes over his chair, leaving him clad only in his inner garments — Wei WuXian had tripped over the line between tipsy and intoxicated far before Lan WangJi arrived.

Repressing his sense of decency and self-respect, Lan WangJi breaches the bar entrance and retracts Wei WuXians arms from the two girl’s shoulders. They, like Wei WuXian, are too drunk to care, and only titter and stare appreciatively in response as Lan WangJi retrieves Wei WuXian’s scattered belongings across the bar: his outer robe, his sword, his hair ribbon. Even his YunmengJiang bell is somehow hanging from a ceiling truss, far too high and well-knotted on the beam for its location to be an accident.

“We are going,” Lan WangJi tells Wei WuXian after he deposits the two maidens into the care of their more sober friend. He takes in Wei WuXian’s state, how he leans against the table for support, as his legs don’t seem too keen to hold his weight. Reluctantly, he grabs Wei WuXian’s limp arm and tosses it over his own shoulders, holding him by the waist as he guides them out of the bar and down the streets of CaiYi Town.

The entire bar gives them a round of applause along with a chorus of whoops and cheerful goodbyes as they depart. From where he is latched onto Lan WangJi’s side, Wei WuXian performs an approximation of a half bow in thanks. All of which Lan WangJi ignores.

He is surprised Wei WuXian doesn’t put up much of a fight. Perhaps he is too drunk to. Or maybe he just enjoys being manhandled like this: the entire right side of his body flush against another, his hand absently tracing the line of their neck and toying with the collar of their robes.

Lan WangJi’s robes, specifically. And his collar. And his neck.

…It’s most likely not that.

Either way, Wei WuXian takes his sudden abduction in stride and laughs into Lan WangJi’s ear, as his neck has somehow stopped cooperating, leading him to rest his head on Lan WangJi’s shoulder. His breaths are hot and his legs are unsteady, causing his hip to bump into Lan WangJi’s with every step.

“Who would’ve known you had it in you, Second Young Master Lan,” he slurs. “Sneaking out past curfew like this.”

His words are almost incoherent with how heavy his tongue is. Lan WangJi can smell the alcohol he had been drinking. He can almost feel the condensation forming on his ear from how humid Wei WuXian’s breathing is.

Lan WangJi remembers that he had left the Cloud Recesses in a hurry after realizing Wei WuXian’s disappearance, and had been out for hours before finding him again. And so it had been awhile since he had anything to eat. Or had anything to drink.

He finds that he is rather thirsty.

Lan WangJi adjusts his hold on Wei WuXian to reach for Bichen. “Can you fly?” he asks.

“Of courrrrrrse,” Wei WuXian says to Lan WangJi’s jaw. He proceeds to unsheathes Suibian and slash the air in front of them. When Wei WuXian unsuccessfully tries to extract himself from Lan WangJi’s grip to hop on a still landborne Suibian, he immediately regrets every life decision he has made that  led him to this moment.

“You are not,” Lan WangJi answers for him. He gently takes Suibian from Wei WuXian’s yielding grip and resheathes it in its scabbard, extending his arm to keep it out of reach from Wei WuXian’s grabby hands. “I will — stop squirming — I will carry you on my back, and we will fly back on Bichen together.”

“Woowww,” Wei WuXian says. He whistles in appreciation, his lips puckering with the motion. “You’re strong enough to — what kind of question is that? Of course you’re strong enough to carry another person with you on your sword. We’ve done it before. But — but what about physical contact, Lan Zhan? I thought you hated physical contact with others? Am I — am I the exception?”

This is the first time Lan WangJi has seen Wei WuXian with his hair down. His hair is wild and nearly as long as his own, brushing the small of his back. It is also soft, as Lan WangJi comes to find; Wei WuXian moves his head a lot when he talks, and some of his hair ends up in his mouth. After a moment of blank static, he serenely removes it with his free hand.

His other hand holds Wei WuXian’s clumsily folded hair ribbon, crushed in his fist. He will give it back to him when they arrive back to the Cloud Recesses. But definitely not when he is sober.

For now, he must endure. “Not the exception,” he denies. “But — we must return to the Cloud Recesses before our absences are noticed.”

Wei WuXian gasps and places a hand to his heart. “Lan Zhan! You’re — you’re gonna lie? For me?”

He does not reply, instead focusing his entire attention on prepping Bichen for flight. After slowly extracting him from his side and making sure his legs are foundationally sound underneath him, Lan WangJi motions for Wei WuXian to get on his back, giving him him a meaningful look.

Wei WuXian does not listen. Instead, he smiles. His eyes and teeth glint with mischief and alcohol and the Gusu moon and — something. 

“I knew you wanted to be my friend,” he murmurs, so soft and mumbled Lan WangJi must strain to hear it.

Lan WangJi swallows and coughs, his throat uncharacteristically dry.

Still looking at him with a smile on his flushed face, Wei WuXian lists his head to the side and absently licks his lips. They shine in the bright moonlight with saliva and Emperor’s Smile. It is so indistinguishable with any other clear liquid, it could have been anything else. Like water. Or honey.

Or Lan WangJi’s sweat.

An indescribable feeling overcomes him. He clears his throat again.

Lan WangJi is thirsty. He is insatiably parched.

[slytherinspage]

So I guess this is going to be the story of me and my LDR (long distance relationship).

Before the actual story begins I wanna apology for my inability to tell stories, I don’t know why but all my friends seem to be great at telling stories, making them really thrilling and mine sound boring all the time although they weren’t when I was living them?? But anyway, let the story begin.

So it was on April 8th when we first started texting. The app we „met“ if u can say so is called ACEapp. Ironically I didn’t get the app because I was hoping to find my soulmate on there. I was just bored and thought texting some strangers would be a nice way to kill time. I don’t even identify as asexual since I‘m not labeling myself. So I texted pretty much everyone on this app within the first 48h. I had some great conversation but everything seemed not to last for longer than a day. One of the people I texted is now my boyfriend. What I know from what he told me is that he got the app because he felt lonely that night. He got plenty of messages but didn’t respond to any of them except mine. (Which is funny init because my first message was literally „how did u manage to only put one sentence in your bio“. I didn’t even say hi, haha). Plus he told me that he wouldn’t have responded if he wasn’t drinking with his friends and bored because he didn’t wanna talk to anybody who’s not from the UK (because of the distance). (Fun fact: They all shaved their heads that night, aha). So we started talking and I believe after an hour or so we switched to snapchat, which is probably why we continued talking.

It was different with him than with other people because whenever a conversation seemed to be dying we (mostly him at the beginning) just started a new one so we wouldn’t stop talking. He was really sweet from the beginning, sending me messages when I was asleep. I think that’s what made me realize his different and I can’t ever let him go again. The remarkable thing is that he went through a really rough time back then. (I don’t wanna go into detail since I feel like that doesn’t belong on this blog. But he told me more than once that if he haven’t met me, he probably wouldn’t be alive no more). But although he had so much stuff going on, he always stayed kind and caring, trying his best to make me feel like i matter and like everything I have to say matters. That’s probably why and when I started falling in love with him although I probably had no idea back then.

At this point I feel like maybe it would be interesting to have his side of the story as well, how he experienced it. Maybe I‘m going to ask him to write a paragraph himself at some point. But he probably cba to do so, haha.

So I think two weeks in was the first time we called. Drunk. I was too scared to do it sober since I wasn’t confident with my English. (I‘m Swiss and he‘s English). We called drunk for about 3-4 times. (I can‘t remember it exactly). One day I called him sober. Out of nowhere. It was awkward since I was so nervous. But then some days later I called again. For 4h this time. It felt like 20 minutes. And it went so well. I mean texting him was great but calling him was even better. (Edit: We made a deal to call and send a photo at least once a week. But after the first week there was no use for this deal no more). At first it was every few days, then daily. And after like a week we stopped ending calls when we went to bed. We called overnight and on the way to work. He got up earlier only for me. At some point I just switched to video call. Which he wasn’t happy about because he isn’t very confident about his looks. (So am I tbh). But he’s very good looking, believe me guys. Anyway luckily he played along.

I couldn’t remember who said „I love you“ first. Had to ask him. So we think it was me who said „ly“ first but over text early on but more to make him feel loved then to like confess feelings that probably weren’t even there back then. He texted „I love you“ first but when he was drunk and back then I don’t think he meant it like that. He said „I love you“ first on call, on our 3. call we did sober. It doesn’t seem like such a big deal so..you should know that he was very scared of falling in love and being hurt and thats why he didn’t wanna confess to himself he liked me.

So we decided pretty early that we wanna meet up. But it was me having a week of in September and wanting to go on holidays and not me wanting to meet up with him because I thought we could become a couple or something. We wanted to go to Greece. Changed plans later tho. The new plan was I would come and visit him so we could save money. It wasn’t till June tho when I finally booked. My flight was supposed to take off on August 30. I feel like towards the end of June, beginning of July things started to get more serious, the feelings got more serious. In the end of June I ordered him a birthday present. A sweater. He also ordered me one. I got two presents tho because my birthday was after his and he got me one to open earlier so I wouldnt have to wait that long. Mine was a hp themed pillow. I got mad so I ordered him a second one for his birthday. A spiderman funko pop. So I believe up till July he was always reminding me that we’re not together (thank you at this point boo, that wasn’t needed X) but at some point that change and he was asking if he could ask me out if things go well. I said yes but if he wants to make it official on a specific date he should choose a good one like the 1.9.19. (which would have been my third day at his). We also talked about stuff that comes with a relationship like kissing and sex. (On call btw). Because I am very afraid of failing and I‘ve never like kissed anyone or had sex because I have always been so scared. But everything was fine for him. Another reason why he was on the app was because he wanted things to go slowly this time. (Which they didnt really). So he would have been fine with just holding hands and we didnt think we would have sex before like 5 years into the relationship. (No spoilers but oh boy where we wrong, ahahah). So it was July 15, his birthday. I was at work when I realized I got 6 days off before I‘m going to a festival. And his birthday sesh would have been on July 20th and I was lowkey upset that I can’t be there. So I told him about it, told him I could book a flight on the upcoming friday (July 19th). At first he didnt want me to. It was a lot of money. But I booked it anyway. And suddenly I had no time no more to emotionally prepare myself for meeting him. There was no time to think about what could go wrong or what I‘m afraid of because I was at work all week long till I would fly. Also it was a big risk since I‘ve still had the other flight booked for September so if we wouldn’t get along, I would have lost money.

So the day before I flew we called overnight and he wished me a safe flight. I called him again before the take off. The next time I called him was when I was on the train to him in England and he was on the bus to come and pick me up. Everything was normal. Then we ended the call. And I can tell you guys not everything always goes perfectly at first. Our first meeting was horrible. I got off the train and didnt see him. He went up to me and hugged me. I wanted to hug him for longer or go in for a second hug but he turned me down. (Thank you very much boo, again X). He was shaking and talking very fast and high pitched because he was so nervous. Which made me nervous and I didn’t understand anything he was saying and I was so confused because I understood him perfectly on call but just not in person. Later he told me another reason he acted so weirdly was because he thought we were late for the bus. I carried my suitcase because I felt uncomfortable. We were sitting at the bus station, talking about random things I cannot remember. It was weird and awkward. We got on the bus. Stopped talking. He wouldn’t take my hand or anything. I saw my face in a mirror and felt so ugly. I started crying because I thought now he saw me in person, thinks I‘m ugly and doesn’t like my personality and well doesn’t like me no more. And now I have to spend 6 days with him and I still like him and it hurts. He hold my hand when I was crying which made me feel better but as soon as I stopped he let go which made it worse cos I felt like he was only holding my hand because I was crying not because he liked me. So we got off the bus and walked to his. He wanted to carry my suitcase but I wanted to do it myself because I thought he wouldn’t like me and I didn’t wanted him to do it because he feels bad (which is a. a stupid reason and b. stupid cos I got asthma). So after a while he took my suitcase anyway. We got to his and I met his dad briefly. I was very tired so I laid down in his bed. He asked me if he should lay down with me. I said that I don’t care. (Because I still thought he didnt like me). He then said but ob call I asked him to do so and then he laid down. And he asked if he could spoon me. Which got me really confused so I went like „do you still wanna spoon me then?“ And he said like ofc he want to. So we laid down for like 3h and all the awkwardness kinda disappeared. I felt comfortable.

We then had to go because on that day there was a charity event of his family. Which definitely didn‘t gave me anxiety at all. I met his mother, his siblings, aunts, cousins and all his friends. Luckily there was a bar in this building, haha. I can’t remember if we were holding hands or anything. Obviously a lot of people had questions and were wondering if we were together. (I still thought he doesn’t like me and just accepted it). Because it was the 19.07.19 and I said I would also consider that as a date cos there are two 19s in it. But when someone asked (I don’t remember who) I think he asked me if it would be okay for me and then he told them that I am indeed his girlfriend.

The next day we went on a walk in the morning. (He lives by the sea). Almost no one was there besides some people walking there dogs. Felt like nintendogs in real life, aha. He later said it was the most romantic walk he ever had. Later that day there was his birthday bbq at his. I went to bed at some point because I was so tired. Then we went out with his friends. We went to three bars. Up to this point no kissing or anything. Only cuddling at night. He was drunk and I was maybe a little tipsy. He said something along „If there weren’t so many people and you were comfortable I would kiss you right now.“ We went to a club. I felt a bit sick which was why I wanted a glass of water and to sit down. Everyone else was dancing but we were sitting there talking. Unfortunately I can’t remember what his exact words were but I think he asked me if he could kiss me or just go for it. He thought I would turn him down but I kissed him back. Also maybe my hand went down his pants but who knows. We then went home. He stared at me for the whole 30min walk. It was almost scary. I remember telling him I‘m sorry but I can’t do this. By this I mean wanking him off or giving him a bj. (Btw could my post get flagged?? I hope not.) Although I‘ve liked tried it and for a girl that has never kissed someone, never kisses someone with tongue, never touched a dick or had one in her mouth I feel like I‘ve done a pretty good job doing all that in one night, on my second day with him. And I was almost sober so. Anyway at this point I got anxious again. But I took my shirt of (when spooning) and told him but we can do this and took his hand, placed it on my boob. But then I started kissing him again. We didn’t have had sex that night tho. He was too drunk.

The next morning we showered together. (Which was my idea). And from that day on we always showered together. I think that day we went to the cinema with a friend of his. We didn’t do a lot when I was there just because we have a lot of things planned for September, the first two days were very stressful and we wanted to use the time to get to know each other. So that day we had sex and were sober. But apart from that we spent a lot of tim cuddling and watching films. Nothing too exiting but we never got bored because somehow we never get bored when being together and we can talk for hours or just be cuddling. I was so happy being with him, I don’t regret anything and I can’t wait to see him again in 33 days.

So there you have it. The story with the happy ending. Let’s hope the happy ending lasts forever.