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rancidpancakebatter · 2 years

Text

Grip Tape-Chapter 9 [P.P.]

Pairings: Peter Parker x AFAB Reader

Summary: Peter offers to teach you how to skateboard and who are you to say no? This is a pre-bite fic so we get to enjoy Peter Parker in his full Dorky Display.

Word Count: 4.4k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+ Swearing, Marijana Use, Underage Drinking, Bullying,

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Chapter Summary: We pick up with the start of school. How will you navigate your new 'thing' with Peter? What will people think? What will they do?

A/N: This one is Looong. My bad homes. It’s a Pre-Bite Peter Parker fic so there has to be some bullying (no violence). A really gross sexual innuendo is made. Again, I don’t plan anything so this is a surprise to me and I now HATE a character I have created (I mean kinda, he’s briefly mentioned in the comics but also not really.)

Sunday passed with little event. You went to the movies with your dad and saw the new Paranormal Activity movie. He asked a lot of questions about Peter and you answered them as best as you could. Yes, you did kiss. No, not at the house. Yes, you like Peter. Yes, Peter likes you. Are you dating? You don’t know. And frankly, you’re afraid of the answer. Your father still seemed to like Peter so that was nice.

You woke up for school as usual. You took your shower and brushed your teeth like you did every day. Everything was so normal. You checked your phone to see a message from Peter.

Peter <3:

Good Morning sleeping beauty

A good morning text was a good thing, right? You don’t send those to your friends. But maybe he did. You don’t think Peter has any friends. There was no one you could ask about that. You hadn’t really talked to yours in a while and when you did you didn’t send a good morning text.

You put your phone back down on your desk and began to get dressed. You could wear Peter’s clothes. You doubt anyone would notice other than him. Would he be upset with you for doing that?

He did like you, right? May said he did and it seemed important to him that you liked him. He had also kissed you twice on the forehead and twice on the mouth and once on the cheek. That’s five kisses, two of them very passionate. Not that you were counting.

He never said it though. He didn’t say that he liked you. He also didn’t ask you to be his girlfriend. There were so many questions swirling around in your head and only he had the answers. You weren’t sure if you were strong enough to seek them out though. Whatever you had with Peter just had to be enough for now. If you pushed and he left you would be devastated.

You held the hoodie in your hands, tracing the worn fabric with your thumb. Bringing it up to your face you could smell that distinct Peter smell. You grabbed a baggy t-shirt, another one of your dad’s, and slipped on some jeans. You decided to put on the hoodie and if he said anything you would make up some excuse and give it back. You layered it with a tattered denim jacket.

In the kitchen, you threw some rice and other stuff together to make a taco bowl for lunch. You hesitated before making two. You had been bringing lunch for Peter every day so far. If you stopped now it would be weird. You threw them both in a lunch box and put a baggie of avocado on top.

You put in your headphones glancing down the street keeping an eye out for Sally. You downloaded the X&Y album to your phone last night. Maybe it was cheesy to listen to it now but you wanted to live in the fantasy of dating Peter Parker for as long as you could. You pressed shuffle and drowned out any thoughts of doubt.

Peter got off the bus and ran to catch up with you. His hand on your shoulder startled you, you whipped around grabbing your chest. Peter, unphased, pulled out his earbuds and began talking.

“Hey, how was yesterday with your dad?” He kept his hands in his pockets as he walked with you to the school.

“Uh, it was fun. We went to the movies.” You tried to give him a smile but if he noticed the way it didn’t reach your eyes he didn’t say anything. He opened the door for you and you quietly thanked him.

“What did you see?” Peter followed by your side as you made your way to your locker.

“Paranormal Activity.” He just nodded his head hoping you would expand more upon your answer- you didn’t.

You started gathering everything you needed for class as Peter just stood there. He never needed to go to his locker in the morning because he always took what he needed for his first three classes home with him, and his skateboard stayed strapped to his backpack. There was an awkward quiet between you two and he wasn’t sure what was causing it.

Maybe it was just on his side. Maybe you just weren’t talkative in the morning. But the other morning at school you seemed plenty talkative. He couldn’t get a read on you. Taking in your form he noticed you were wearing his hoodie from the other day. That comforted him some.

You also thought the quiet was unsettling. You just didn’t know how to interact with him. Do you hug him? Hold his hand? You didn’t know. He made no effort to touch you yet and you didn’t want to cross a line or get rejected.

You turned around and his face was void of emotion. There were no wrinkles or lines to read. He was looking at the ground and you wanted to lift his head with your hand on his cheek but you weren’t sure if you were allowed to do that. You opted for a light punch to his shoulder.

“Do you need to grab anything from your locker?” He looked at you with a tight-lipped smile and shook his head. He continued to gaze at you but you felt too scared to hold eye contact. You dropped your head, your fingers fiddled with the zipper on your Peter’s jacket.

“Can I-” You looked up quickly when he spoke. Peter saw the desperation in your eyes but couldn’t tell what it was you were searching for in his gaze. His tongue tied itself in a tight knot at your expression. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Can I walk you to class?” You smiled at him, for real this time, and nodded your head. He took the initiative to throw his arm around your shoulders and began walking you to your Sociology class with Mr Angel.

He navigated you through the swarm of teens in the way, never letting go. Without thinking you rested your head against him. You couldn’t see the way his eyes lit up. The way his face flushed. The way he looked at you. Carmel eyes admiring you under his arm. The toothy grin that made a new home on his face.

You could, however, feel the way he stopped breathing for a moment. You could feel the way his heart seemed to be beating against his chest. You could feel the reassuring squeeze he gave your shoulder. You could feel the short kiss he placed on the crown on your head.

“You know, it’s not fair.” You said as you leaned against the wall by the door.

Peter simply cocked his head to the side furrowing his brows. “What?”

You let out a soft laugh when your brain compared his face to that of a puppy. “You’re so tall you can see above the crowd. Us shorties don’t have the luxury.”

He laughed, bringing his head down. While it was adorable that he did that, that you could make him react that way, you missed his face.

“How am I supposed to walk the halls now that I’ve become accustomed to a presidential escort?” He looked back up at you with a smaller smile. His hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. Peter seemed to do that when he was nervous.

“Maybe you don’t have to. I can take you to all your classes- be your personal guide. Help out my shortie, ya know.” He looked hopeful and you wanted to frame the face he was making, keep it forever.

“Peter some of our classes are on the complete other side of the building. Like, for second period you have math and I have English, then we both have chemistry. Are you gonna walk across the school to come get me from English just to go all the way back to the STEM wings for chem?” Peter just rolled his eyes at you.

“(Y/n), you are worth the walk.” You scoff but he cuts you off before you could continue. “And I’ll be fast. I’ll skate if I have to.” You laughed covering your mouth. The warning bell rang and Peter started to walk away.

“I’ll see you after class.” He pointed his finger at you in jest and you rolled your eyes as you walked into the classroom. Peter did a little happy hop and skip on his way to class. You may have rolled your eyes but you couldn’t stop the smile on your face.

True to his word, he met you within minutes of the bell ringing right where he had left you. He gave you a polite “hey” as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders yet again. He walked you to your classroom door before giving you a small kiss on the crown of your head and turning to walk the other way.

While usually you would be distracted by Peter, you were finding it easier than expected to focus in class. Even if he hadn’t said it he was showing it. The kiss on your head before every class was more than what you did for a friend. Peter liked you, you knew it. This realization brought tranquillity to your thoughts.

You waited for Peter outside of Ms Thornesburry’s class. You were alerted to his presence as you heard him running. His breath was heavy and he flashed you that Peter Parker smile. You felt your knees wobble and your chest tighten.

“Peter, you don’t have to race over here you know. I can just meet you at chemistry.” Peter made no response as he enveloped your shoulders once again and started making his way across the school. His heart was beating fast but you couldn’t tell if it was because he was holding you or because he had just run across the whole school to hold you. You could see Mr Crawford’s door when Peter finally spoke up again.

“See, if I didn’t walk you to class I couldn’t do this.” He brought his lips down to your head. Your breath stopped and you could feel him smile against your scalp.

Peter released your shoulders only once you were in front of his seat. You sat down and began pulling out your pens and notebook. Trevor was on his phone as always but he sent you a smile before looking toward Peter. You followed his gaze to see Peter smiling at you. You rolled your eyes beginning on the bellringer.

Today was a lecture day. You wrote down all that you could, taking pictures of the diagrams to copy down later. You took pride in your notes and didn’t like to rush them. From the corner of your eye, you saw Peter looking back at you. He did it a lot and you tried your best not to get distracted but every once in a while you would cave.

You felt a bump on your shoulder.

“Parker, huh?” You turned to Trevor and couldn’t hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Uh…yeah”

“Cool” and with that Trevor drew his attention back to his notes.

You wouldn’t say you and Trevor were close by any means. You guys were on yearbook together and you had a few classes together in the past. That’s why you sat with him in the first place. You knew him well enough to sit next to but you guys never talked much. Now and then he would ask how your weekend was and you would do the same.

Mr Crawford was one of those teachers that liked to say “the bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do.” That was a battle he reluctantly surrendered to early into the year. He was teaching a class of juniors right before lunch. Everyone packed up early, eager to get to the cafeteria and talk to his friends. A measly in-school suspension meant nothing to most of these kids.

He continued his lecture until the bell rang. Trevor was usually packed up early but today he waited. You didn’t get far before Peter was leaning against your table. His arms pulled taut as he leaned against them.

“Are you gonna be in yearbook today?” Trevor had just stood up pulling his backpack over his shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, I should be.” He glanced at Peter and then smiled at you.

“Cool, see you later.” He left and you stood up to walk out with Peter. You walked in the halls together like you had all day. You reached your locker and dug out your lunch box. Peter lifted your backpack by the strap and threw it over his shoulder.

“You don’t have to carry my backpack.” He shook his head at you smiling.

“Of course I do,” He argued. “I don’t want you to drop anything.”

“How about you take that outside and I’ll heat everything up in Ms Ritter’s microwave?” He nodded his head before walking off. It’s not that you felt suffocated by Peter in any way but you needed a break. Peter’s affectionate nature was something that you were getting accustomed to. You weren’t even officially dating and he had kissed you 3 times today.

They were kisses to your head so not really a 'kiss' but those kinds of kisses were more intimate. It meant that there wasn’t just sexual attraction. Which you were overjoyed about. I mean Peter liked you that’s amazing! So why were your hands so clammy? Why did your chest feel tight? Why were you crying? Were you crying?

You ran to the bathroom. A few tears had slipped but nothing major. Why were you freaking out? Were the lights in the bathroom always this loud- no- bright. You meant bright. You wiped your face and made your way to Ms Ritter’s room.

You walked in quietly and put the first tray in. Ms Ritter took in your appearance and frowned. Before you were bouncing with excitement. Now, you looked pale and your eyes were staring ahead unfocused. She was worried for you.

“Hey sweetie, are you okay?” The question caught you off guard and you felt tears prickling again.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” The way your voice wavered wasn’t convincing and neither was the small smile you sent her way.

“Are you sure?” You knew you were caught. She wouldn’t have asked in the first place if she didn’t know something was wrong, but to ask the follow up you knew you couldn’t lie. You opted to stare at the warm light in the humming box and will it to cook faster. Miss Ritter sat in silence as you watched the neon green numbers count down.

You were one of her favourite students. She knows she’s not supposed to pick favourites but you earned your spot. You went above and beyond for discussions, bringing up original thoughts on standard readings. You could have easily looked up common talking points of Dracula and Frankenstein like everyone else did. You could have just spoken three times to get the grade. But you didn’t. You were an excellent writer and worked hard.

If you were upset she couldn’t just stand by and let it happen. You were very level-headed and didn’t get upset often. Ritter had seen a lot in her years of teaching. She knew how cruel teenagers could be. If someone hurt you she would want to resolve it. She took an oath when she started teaching. She wanted school to be a safe place for growth.

“Is someone-” She struggled to get the words out. A lot of times kids would get defensive about bullying. Either because of pride or fear. Both were very powerful feelings that could lead to stupid decisions. Like fights or worse, bearing through it.

“Is someone doing something to upset you?” She had to phrase the question as delicately as possible. She didn’t want you to pull away if you needed help. She didn’t expect you to laugh. You covered your face in embarrassment. Miss Ritter was trying to be nice and you laughed at her but you didn’t know how else to respond.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh it’s just…” You trailed off not knowing how to end the statement. Ritter sat patiently at her desk waiting for you to finish.

“I’ve actually just returned from one of the best weekends ever. Quickly followed by one of the best days of school ever, so far at least.” You looked down at your hands clamping them shut a few times.

“I should be happy but it just makes me…scared…and I don’t know why.” You looked up at her then felt the tears again. Ritter started talking, not wanting you to be in your head for long.

“What happened this weekend?” You felt your cheeks warm as the memories swarmed in your mind.

“Remember last week when you asked about who I was grabbing that extra fork for?” The older woman nodded her head with a knowing smirk. One that almost said, 'I am always right and I dare you to find an instance where I was not.' It made you chuckle.

“Well, His name is Peter. Peter Parker. He saw me skating one day and offered to teach me some tricks. We’ve been eating lunch together a lot.” You held up the cold container in your hand like you were presenting evidence to the jury.

“Last Friday he came home with me and we hung out and did our homework, nothing special.” Miss Ritter smiled remembering the days when someone coming over to do nothing with you could feel so special.

“But uh, on Saturday I went over to his place. We hung out and listened to music.” You paused feeling your face becoming even hotter.

“We uh…we kissed.” Miss Ritter smiled saying, 'Oh' before pretending to grade some papers on her desk.

“A uh, a couple of times.” Your teacher was hiding a smirk.

The microwave went off and you replaced it with the other tray. You hit the 2 and the microwave sang as it came back to life.

“So you like Mr Parker?” It was weird to hear him be called that. He wasn’t very mister-like.

“Yeah, I do. Quite a lot I think.” Miss Ritter continued to grade papers, her glasses sitting low on her nose. She peered at you over the frames.

“So what’s the problem?” That was the question, wasn’t it? What’s the problem? You listened to the buzz of the microwave and the scratching of Ritter’s pen.

“I don’t know.” You heard her chair rolling and see her pulling off her glasses. She lets out a sigh before looking at you, almost sad.

“I’m gonna give you the cold truth, (Y/n).” You sat up straight, steeling yourself against whatever she was going to say.

“You’re young. This relationship with Peter probably isn’t going to last longer than high school. It may not last high school. You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you.” Her words seemed harsh but you knew she wasn’t trying to hurt you.

“So try to enjoy it. Okay?” She gave you a soft smile that you returned.

The microwave beeped and you stood to gather the food. You grabbed the forks throwing them into the bag as well. You thanked her for the advice and she told you to enjoy your day. Making your way to the courtyard you felt a little better but not much. You didn’t expect Miss Ritter to cure your anxiety but you hated feeling this way.

Outside you heard Peter on his skateboard. You watched by a tree as the deck jumped and twisted. Peter tried a trick and almost fell. You brought your hand to your mouth trying to stifle your laughter. It didn’t work, Peter spotted you and you made your way over to the bench.

“I can’t believe you laughed. I could have died!” You laughed again at his antics.

“It was only funny because you didn’t.” You passed him the container and a fork. He eagerly dug in thanking you for the food. You nodded your head hoping to shake out whatever was going on in your mind.

You ate mostly in silence before Peter convinced you to practice your tic tacs. You went in a circle, forwards and back. He beamed at you and you had to avert your eyes from its blinding light. Peter got on his board and started doing them with you. It was like you were dancing and you laughed at the sheer folly.

“So what do you wanna learn next?” You told him that you didn’t know. You began to hate that phase. You read the time on your phone and saw lunch was about to end.

“I’m gonna head to my locker and put this stuff up.” You started to gather your stuff when Peter picked up your backpack.

“I’ll come with.” He was so adorable. He seemed to stand tall with pride as he carried your backpack. When you began putting your stuff up the bell rang. Your peers began swarming the halls, much more boisterous after lunch. A group of basketball boys were pushing each other and laughing. A chain event happened where one of the boys came too close and pushed Peter, pushing your head into the locker door.

Peter pushed back before he could even think. That was a terrible thing to do. Flash wasn’t there, it was just some of his peons. Peter had pushed Charlie Murphy. He had long blonde hair and a pucca shell necklace. He looked ridiculous considering surfing wasn’t really a thing at New York beaches.

“Whoah Peter! What’s got your panties in a twist?” It angered you to hear him talk to Peter like this. Peter glanced at you to make sure you were okay. The sound of you hitting the cold metal was audible, not that the boys seemed to care. Charlie noticed this and laughed.

“Hey boys, I think Penis Parker got a little girlfriend.” Your head didn’t hurt anymore. You couldn’t focus on anything else other than the anger you felt. You heard them all snicker and 'oooooh' like it was funny.

“They hit their head, asshole.” You could feel Charlie bristle at that. Peter’s gaze was ripped from you as Murphy grabbed his shoulder.

“What did you say to me?” Peter stood up straighter and you got nervous. The air in the hallway seemed stiff. Or maybe you were just finding it hard to breathe.

“I said, they hit their head.” Peter was standing his ground. Charlie poked his finger into Peter’s shoulder roughly.

“I’m pretty sure, you just called me an asshole.” Peter didn’t say anything. You were so mad that you did.

“You are.” Everyone eyeballed at you then. His friends were chuckling but you failed to see the humour. Charlie cocked his head to the side to survey you, looking past Peter.

“What was that?” You scoffed, anger rolling off you.

“Jesus, are you hard of hearing? You. Are.” You had been feeling weird all day. All your pent-up frustration for yourself was directed right at Charlie in this moment. Your father had warned you about projecting before but right now you didn’t care.

“You could have easily apologised or given a half-assed ‘whoops’ but you didn’t have the fucking decency. That, by definition, makes you an asshole.” You spoke the last sentence slowly in a condescending tone. Charlie seemed taken aback at first before turning to his group and laughing.

“You know, you’re cute. You could do a lot better than Penis Parker here. You should come to a game sometime. Maybe after I can find a better use for your foul mouth.”

Rage. Unadulterated rage. You were shaking and close to tears. You hated that it might be read as weakness. Your face was hot and you could feel your fingernails breaking the skin on your palm. You barely registered the sound of clicking heels making their way towards you.

“Charles, is there a problem here?” Miss Ritter stood to the side, tapping her toe, arms crossed. The boy in question almost seemed to smirk at you before turning to Miss Ritter.

“Yeah, there is. Peter here,” He pointed at him and you flinched, which didn’t go unseen by your favourite teacher.

“Pushed me and then that one,” His accusing finger now moved to you.

“Cussed me out.” Miss Ritter raised her eyebrow in disbelief.

“Oh, and Peter cussed me first.” Peter was just glaring at him. His eyes unmoving from Charlie’s deep ceruleans. There was a silence in the group, the only sound being people on their way to class and Miss Ritter’s pointy shoes tapping on the linoleum. Charlie and his friends were looking at each other waiting for something to happen.

“Are you done?” Ms Ritter had lost her patience. She eyed Charlie as he dumbly nodded his head.

“Is that so?” She was answered with a chorus of 'yeah' and 'it’s true' from the boys. She l watched you silently asking if you were okay, but you didn’t have the strength to respond.

“I’m pretty sure I heard you say something quite deplorable to ms (L/n). Something that could certainly get you into disciplinary trouble. It could possibly be even labelled as harassment. Are you familiar with what the New York justice system has to say about that?”

Charlie’s face turned scarlet as his eyes slowly grew with each word your kind teacher uttered. His friends had a similar shock on their faces.

“And even if they did curse at you,” Miss Ritter continued. “I can imagine it was a reasonable response to whichever way you were harassing these two.”

The boys stood slack-jawed. As Ritter defended you, you began to feel yourself relax. Your fight or flight instincts slowly receding.

“I suggest you get to class before your ‘foul mouth’ gets you into any more trouble.” She stared the boys down and they began to make their way down the hall. Charlie glared at Peter the whole way and Peter reciprocated the sentiment. When the group was gone Miss Ritter turned to the both of you.

“Are you guys okay?” You nodded your head yes when Peter spoke up.

“(Y/n) hit their head on their locker. Would I be allowed to escort them to the nurse?” Miss Ritter told him that was more than fine and offered to call your teachers to let them know. You were still staring ahead unmoving. Peter gently reached for your hand breaking you from your trance, gently pulling on it as he began to move towards the front office.

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sroloc--elbisivni · 2 years

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This is me begging for more of your take on the guiding hand in G1. The end of the fic implies Mortilus, but what about the rest? How do they interact with Cybertronians? Just anything you want to say about it

OH GUIDING HAND IN G1 what i want to say about the guiding hand in g1 is that i have like. five different ideas about how to integrate them with the quints. i love them i love both backstories i want to smoosh them together

there's the version i put down on paper where they're built by random cybertronians not really knowing what they're doing but still feeling like 'it's important that we have people to represent these things'. i also tried to tease epistemus with that thing about collecting all knowledge into a single pack for download, they do that and then he gains sentience and they go 'well shoot i guess we have to make him a body now' and then they go 'but what is all the knowledge he DOESN'T contain' and then they make solomus. adaptus is the pure transformation code out of vector sigma. they love him because he's how they became free, but they didn't think to give him a Self until way down the line. he's got no issues about this at all of course. they all think the cybertronians are very interesting and are allowed to do whatever they want which is mostly just 'wander around and talk to people and have hobbies that make all their brothers go 'well you're a weirdo but we love you''. rung DOES make the matrix and everyone goes 'what's it for?' and he shrugs.

there's a version where the guiding hand are built but the cybertronians sit down for five days straight in a planet wide conference to discuss how they're going to decide what they value enough to make gods of. they only give up arguing after everyone falls into recharge.

there's a version where the quints arrive to find these Five Dudes tending sparks and scoop them up and lock them away in the heart of the planet and by the time their descendants arrive to bust them out they have all become Extremely Weird with each other

there's a version where the quints build them as prototypes and keep them tucked away in labs as like. treasured pets. rung is just a little guy wandering around interested in how people think. mortilus stands next to the table while dissections are happening. adaptus keeps trying out new alt modes and the quints pet him and praise him for it. they are curious about the world outside but have never been there.

there's a version where the quints build them and they are Just Some Guys but Rung is wandering around developing psychiatry as a form of rebellion--we are not just machines, we have Thoughts we have Feelings we have Vibes we have dreams--this is one of my rung concepts that's forever on the back burner because it would require me to learn about carl jung's psychology theories

there's a version where the quints arrive to find these five dudes tending sparks and shut them away in labs as like treasured pets except they are just causing So Many problems, All The Time.

LIKE I SAID I HAVE A LOT OF IDEAS AND EACH ONE HAS LIKE THREE VARIATIONS. THERE ARE BRANCHES. IT'S JUST IMPORTANT THAT THEY'RE WEIRD LITTLE GUYS WHO MAY OR MAY NOT ALSO HAVE COOL WORLD-CHANGING POWERS BUT ARE DEFINITELY JUST HANGING OUT

#is this transformers #talky talk #quetzalpapalotl #asks

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leaveamessageafterthescream · 3 years

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Okay I know that in general the readings I've seen about the gifting of the observatory are mainly romantic, and the main idea is that Gen is confessing his love, and that this opens the doorway to a potential romantic relationship between them. BUT!!! I think I have finally made sense of it all in the way that I think it was supposed to be read. As I used to think it didn’t serve a purpose so it had to be romantic in nature. Right???? (to be clear it made sense during the first time I read it, but has since been skewed in my mind to a shipping angle to end up at this point of not recognizing the actual purpose of this scene for the characters and the readers) The rest under the cut because this got long lol

Alright hear me out. I’ve been writing a fic with Gen and Senku in it, exploring their thoughts about each other. So I wanted to re-examine the observatory scene to just get a better handle on them! I mean it is lauded by sengen shippers as ‘THE CONFESSION SCENE’

So at the point in the story when Senkus birthday comes along, Senku was having troubles with the light bulb situation and spring is fast approaching. After Magma blindfolds him he actually thinks that the villagers are turning him over to Tsukasa and that Gen has orchestrated it. He must have constantly thought things could go belly up at any moment to have these thoughts in the first place! I mean that’s the first conclusion he makes!

But then Gen tells him he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, because he’s never once actually thought of turning Senku over to Tsukasa. Instead he reveals the telescope and observatory to Senku. Senku is transported mentally back in time to when he’s a CHILD!! This is huge because this is Gen's way of telling Senku that he can see him. He can see his dreams, his ambitions, he can see what brings him peace, can see into his heart!!!

And Senku tries to find his footing in all this. He says a man doesn’t just go around telling people his birthday. (because of course he would fall back on this) So then Gen continues to tell Senku that he sees him, the date carved into the tree, and that he wholeheartedly believed in him before he even met him!! And in this way Gen is allowing himself to be seen!! BY!! SENKU!! (and the reader lol) Ever since we met Gen he has been the manipulator, the traitor, the liar, the self professed ‘most selfish man on earth’. BUT right here he’s telling Senku, in his own way, that that’s never been the case!! AND IT NEVER WILL BE!!!

Also i want to put the fan-translation up here as well…as this was the one I was familiar with as I read the manga online and only downloaded the official later, the language used here is also the one i see most often as ‘proof’

Of course looking back at Gen's actions when he’s first introduced, all he does is help Senku reach his goals over and over again! Even before the promise of cola is mentioned he’s 10 billion percent on Senkus side completely taken by Senku and his immediate goal of recreating electricity in this stone world. Tell me if you found yourself in Gen's position and this weird nerd (who should be dead) says he wants to make a generator, wouldn’t you be right there thinking ‘I gotta see this!’ I think afterwards Gen tries to divert a little bit by saying that the villagers probably feel the same way. Seeing what Senku has accomplished already makes him irreplaceable to them and they want to see him reach his goals. (and he hasn’t even heated their huts yet!) And they both agree that this is all gross because they are boys but also because they both SEE EACH OTHER! That’s uncomfortable for anyone!! And this isn’t to say that the observatory and what it stands for can’t be romantic in nature, I just think it’s important to understand what is really being said in this scene. I still absolutely love sengen as a romantic ship but the observatory scene is just not a romantic confession scene, in my mind. I do believe it sets an important foundation, they only grow closer after this because Senku doesn’t have to worry about Gen betraying him anymore. He drags him around with him for his ‘modern man-ness’. He agrees to Gens Lillian scheme (falling into hell together!). And I think he makes Gen drive his cars as, like, an extension of this trust. We know that Senku diverts any claims for the real reasons he does things as ‘it’s only logical to blah blah blah blah~’ like that’s bullshit and everyone knows it. Also important to note is that 3 of Senkus' sources of anxiety are resolved in these chapters. (4 if you count the tungsten/manganese, but I'm counting people here) The first is Magma, and they have a great conversation in the cave as well as saving each other's lives (with Chrome's help). And the next two are Gen and the Ishigami villagers. Senku is right that Gen can sway the villagers to do his bidding but neither Gen nor the villagers intend to betray Senku. And so having all that cleared up lets Senku move forward without the fear that the very people he’s working with will turn against him. I do have to say though that Senku only voiced these thoughts after being blindfolded, at least I don't remember any other instances of him voicing these concerns. I do think this moment is a possible moment of Senku maybe doubting those around him but I’m not too sure.

So it is fair in the end to think that the observatory scene didn’t serve a purpose for these anxieties because there isn’t a whole lot of lead up. If there had been several/a few instances of Senku doubting Gens intentions or thinking that the villagers don’t like him I think it’s possible this scene would leave a different impression on sengen shippers. Maybe!? :D Tell me your thoughts! Is this scene still romantic in your mind? if so, tell me why! I would love to hear it! Or just come talk to me about Dr Stone!

#dr stone #sengen #dcst #-coughs- anyways~#dr stone meta #sengen meta #plz don't yell at me kay? :)#i'm just a lil guy lol

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pacific-rimbaud · 3 years

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May I ask an etiquette question about fanfic? I've seen the discourse and know that most authors don't like when people save copies of their work, but I have recently realized that the little download button on a03 will pop a little copy of a fic right into my apple books library for me to read though there. Is this wrong to do? I like this specifically for multi chap fics because I prefer reading on a dark background and using reader view off the website doesn't let me move to the next page while I'm in it so I have to enter reader view then exit it then enter it again, its a less nice experience. I don't have any sneaky plans or anything I just don't want my eyes to hurt but I don't want to do that if it is upsetting or considered impolite/stealing. Does using that button work differently to whatever people do when they have the files to repost? does it give you access to the file without actually letting you be able to do anything beyond read it? am I over thinking things? (yes, always haha) thanks for your time

I can only answer for myself, but fanfiction is free, and I think it's wonderful that people download and read however it's comfortable and convenient for them! When someone downloads a work from AO3, it’s just like any published ebook. It’s just a readable file—you can’t change my work without somehow converting it into a writable document. Changing work in minor ways and passing along is a big no, so don’t do that. The garden variety AO3 download is still my words with my pen name attached, so it's still credited to me, which is all I personally care about. I will say that I have gone back and reedited my own work as my writing has improved, so earlier versions are rougher. This is especially true for A Dress with Pockets and The Secretary, which were never betaed, and Love and Other Historical Accidents, which I've made subtle but important changes to up until very recently. I would wait until the latter is all done to download the final version.

This issue gets sticky when people have real life reasons for not wanting their work to be out there. I haven't written anything that could harm me professionally or personally, so I'm super open irl about my fanfiction hobby. I would feel differently if I wrote work with certain Archive warnings or Dead Dove: Do Not Eat content. I don't even read that stuff, so I really can't speak to those concerns for other people. People do sometimes just change their minds about what they want attached to them, but that's a concern that goes far beyond fanfiction. The internet is forever. I'm sometimes very "Oh, God, what did I do," about how explicit my work was a year or more ago, but I don't feel the need to try to take it out of circulation. If I was going through some kind of legal ordeal where my horniness for Percy Weasley could be used to besmirch my character, I might have a different perspective.

Tl;dr: As far as I'm concerned, download away! For my peace of mind, please download the most recent versions.

#you asked I answered #people feel very strongly about this #the great double-edged sword of free speech #you can say/write whatever you want but it doesn't mean those things can't hurt you in lots of ways

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

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Have you ever done like a high school aged au except Levi and Hanji are penpals?

so levihan here aren't exacty penpals and it's a high school!au, but this idea has been living in my head ever since i received your ask so i hope you enjoy this fic, anon, because i dedicate it to you <333

As cliche as it sounded, but Hange never thought that her life was gonna be this way.

When she finished her journalistic degree, when she graduated from university on top of the class, everyone kept saying, "A bright future is ahead of you, Zoe. The whole world is at your fingertips..."

And Hange had believed them, Hange had expected it too. Uncovering the truth, saving people with the might of her words, making the world a better place one article at a time. Hange couldn't wait to get started and make her dream come true.

And then...

And then every serious newspaper turned her application down, not ready to give a chance for someone with a lot of skills and even more brains, but not enough experience, and then her pride got in the way, and so she didn't wish to settle for some local, small newspaper, refusing to waste her degree and years of hard work on some mediocrity.

And now, here she is - working as an advice columnist for Sina's Gossip.

Not a place Hange ever thought she'd end up at. Not a place she would have ended up at, if she had a choice. But she didn't have that choice, had taken it away herself when she refused offers from more respectable newspapers and didn't get a job at the place she had aimed for.

The magazine isn’t large, small enough for Hange not to know about it at all prior to receiving the job offer. She wouldn't have looked at that job offer twice, would have dismissed it immediately after seeing the name Sina's Gossip written on top, but as chance had it, she scrolled through the letter and saw the name at the end.

Erwin Smith.

The Erwin Smith, a local star who had disappeared from public eye some years ago. And now Hange knew where he had gone to.

He was only in his thirties, and already made a name for himself after he uncovered a conspiracy at the local pharmaceutical company. Just like Hange, perhaps even more so, he had a bright future ahead of him. But suddenly he quitted his job and founded his own magazine.

Hange would be lying if she said she wasn't at the very least a little bit intrigued at Erwin's sudden change of course.

That's why she agreed to a meeting with him. And that was her mistake.

Because Erwin turned out to be handsome, intelligent and charming to the point of ridiculousness. He smiled, spoke a few flattering words and next Monday Hange was already on her way to Sina's Gossip, where she started off as a mere copy editor.

It's been three years since that fated meeting, and Hange is still here, now promoted to an advice columnist. And, despite it not being what she dreamed of, despite working at a gossip magazine she used to despise... She likes it here.

She likes the people she works with, and she likes people she works for.

The letters people send her, asking for an advice or sharing their grievances, Hange likes them too. Enjoys reading them again and again, mulling over each word, looking at presented problem from each angle and doing her best to come up with the best advice possible.

Perhaps it's a simple wishful thinking or whispers of an ego she still hasn't lost, but Hange likes to think she helps these people. Solves their problems, guides them through trying times. Or brightens their day, at least.

She's not saving the world like she dreamt of, but she's making it a better place - or strives to, at least. Sometimes people she helped write her again, thanking for kind and wise words. Hange takes huge pride in that. The job pays well, enough for her to rent a small apartment and live comfortably, but it's these sincere words of gratitude that she treasures the most.

And what makes her hold onto her position in Sina's Gossip even more is the people that work alongside her. Erwin is a kind, if a little dorky man. And he gathered a team of similar people. They're all experts in their respective fields too, Erwin went through great lengths to get them all aboard.

When Hange just started working, the prospect of meeting new people made her more than a little bit nervous. As much as she liked other people and enjoyed getting to know them, getting along, truly belonging somewhere was always a problem for her. Too loud and too weird, she was usually an outcast.

But not at Sina's Gossips.

There, almost right from the beginning, ever since she walked through the glass sliding doors and met a tall man who started sniffing her, she knew she would feel right at home.

In the end, she wasn't wrong. The employees of Sina's Gossips became colleagues, then friends and then family.

She loves them all, even the grumpy midget who opens the door to her office without knocking, his face showing no ounce of friendliness or joy.

But— he's holding a cup of coffee in his hands, and even if Hange were truly annoyed, she'd forgive him just for that.

"Four-eyes," he says, a greeting and complaint at the same time. Hange lets it slide too. Levi hands her the paper cup with coffee, and it's still hot, almost burning her fingers. Lifting the cup to her lips proves that the coffee is black with three sugars, just as Hange always takes it. For that, she's ready forgive Levi any possible sin. "Are you neglecting your work once again?"

"No," that is an offence worth pouting, and Hange does exactly that. She wasn't neglecting anything, how could he even think about it. She's just been staring in the distance for... Hange glances at the clock on her computer screen... For almost ten minutes now.

Alright, maybe, Levi wasn’t completely wrong about that one. Not that Hange will ever admit it to him.

“Did you check the letters I send to you then?”

Hange blinks, a little startled. Letters? It’s the letters day already?

Another quick glance to her computer screen tells her that yes, it’s Tuesday and the letters day already.

Levi takes a seat at the other side of her desk with an irritated grumble. “I sent them to you last night, you ass.”

Hange snickers at the profanity. For an editor, Levi possesses a surprisingly foul mouth.

“I’m checking them now,” she bites her lip, opening the mail. Right beneath advertisements and notifications from her social media, there is a letter from Levi, just as he said there would be. Hange opens it, downloading the archive. As soon as she clicks on it, her eyes light up in anticipation. She starts scrolling down, swiftly going over each letter.

A father who doesn’t know what to give his estranged son for his tenth birthday…

A woman who is worried that her sister is dating a gangster…

A strange man who lost his pet lobster…

A teenage girl who isn’t sure what she wants more – to move to another city to the university of her dreams or stay at her hometown with her best friend and boyfriend…

Hange greedily drinks in every word, hurrying to get to the bottom. What if there is a letter from him…

Levi interrupts her by kicking her leg under the desk.

“I’m glad you finally decided to pay attention to your work,” he pauses, his scowl deepening. In her head, Hange finishes his sentence for him – but now, I want you to pay attention to me. God, Levi is just the cutest. So endearing and precious, and he tries to hide it so hard. Nothing gets past Hange, though. “But I didn’t come here to stare at your deranged smile.”

Obediently, Hange shifts her gaze from a screen to Levi, staring at him with a hand beneath her chin. “Why did come here then?”

“You have a meeting this Friday, remember?”

A meeting, meeting… It takes Hange a long moment to catch up with what Levi is talking about.

“A meeting!” she yells, when it dawns on her at last. She snaps her fingers, grinning at Levi. “Of course, a meeting, with that guy from, mm…” she frowns, tapping her forehead. “From Monkey Island?”

“Money Island,” Levi corrects, but he does so with a hoarse chuckle, and Hange mentally pats herself on a back.

After all, who doesn’t enjoy making their attractive co-workers laugh? Especially if they’re just as broody as Levi?

“Do you remember his name at least?”

“Zeke Yeager, right?”

“Right,” Levi nods, and it could be Hange’s imagination, but his face becomes just a little darker, and his voice just a little gruffer.

Hange’s senses start tingling…

“Do you know each other?”

And, yep, there it is – Levi purses his lips, turning his head to the side to mutter a quiet curse. “We’ve graduated from the same university.”

In what world that is a reason enough for such apparent dislike? Hange longs to know more, find out every possible detail.

Levi sees that desire reflect on her face, and sighs. “He’s an asshole,” he reveals. “Who loves his asshole little brother.”

It doesn’t explain much anyway, but Hange feels like it’s the best she can get out of Levi. She decides to surrender and quell her curiosity, just this once.

“This is the only reason why you came? To remind me about the meeting? I have an assistant for that, Levi.”

Lifting his thin eyebrow, Levi gives her a long look. Hange struggles not to fidget under it. What has gotten into him?

“You really don’t remember,” Levi shakes his head, his disappointment more than transparent. “Four-eyes, Berner is on a sick leave. Had been for three days already.”

Oh, right… that’s why no one answered when she yelled a greeting upon entering the office. That’s why she forgot about the letters day. And that’s why she was staring in the distance for almost ten minutes.

She awkwardly giggles, rubbing her neck. “It just slipped my mind.”

“Lots of things do,” Levi rolls his eyes. “Don’t forget about meeting with Yeager, though. He’s an asshole but—”

“But an important man,” Hange finishes for him. She knows that, can hardly forget about that, since Erwin is so adamant at reminding her every time they cross paths at the office. “I know, I know, that interview is important just as that Zeke is. It can make our magazine more popular and blah, blah, blah.”

“Not only our magazine,” Levi sharply retorts. “It’s a chance for you too, Hange. Don’t ruin it.”

There is an uncharacteristic intensity in his voice, one that turns Hange speechless.

It’s a surprise that Levi knows about her ambitions at all, of course, she told him same as she told practically every person she came across. One day, I’ll show you, I’ll show you all just how great I can be. But it’s a surprise Levi not only knows, but remembers about it. It’s a surprise that he seems to care whether she truly achieves her dreams or not.

“Do you wish to come with me?”

It tumbles out of her lips without a second thought. But just as her mouth starts moving, Hange realizes that she truly wants it, wants to have Levi there with her. As a moral support, if nothing more.

Levi doesn’t answer her right away. His eyes narrow, as he mulls it over with his hand on his chin.

“Zeke doesn’t like me,” he mutters. “I will only make it worse.”

“Or you will make it better,” Hange winks, pressing her elbows into the desk to lean closer to Levi. Now that she knows what she wants, she doesn’t hesitate to apply a bit of pressure. “Maybe, he secretly likes you.”

Levi scoffs, crossing hands on his chest. “I doubt it.”

Despite his curt answer, Hange knows that she is close. Levi is almost ready to break. To ensure that, she decides to play a little dirty. “Levi,” she tilts her head and pinches her eyebrows, sticking her bottom lip out. Her puppy eyes aren’t that impressive, not nearly as good as Nanaba’s, but, for some reason, they seem to always work on Levi. “Pretty, pretty please, will you go with me?”

Levi curses, and that’s how Hange knows that she won. “If I end up destroying your whole career, four-eyes,” he points a finger at her. “That’d be your fault.”

“If you ruin my career, that means I’ll stay here with you forever. Won’t that be splendid?”

He doesn’t say anything, but his face seems pensive, thoughtful. Something in Hange’s heart pangs at that.

“Are you going to Nanaba’s place this Sunday?” she asks to change the topic. And distract herself from the strange feeling Levi’s expression provoked.

“No,” Levi answers. Hange grins.

Levi always says no, always tells them that he won’t let them pull him into their shitty shenanigans again, always swears that this is the last time he dragged their drunk asses home.

And yet, he shows up time and time again. He complains, calls them idiots, drunken fools and disgraces to society, but he still shows up. If that’s not a sign of true friendship, Hange doesn’t know what true friendship is.

“Can’t wait to hang out with your broody mien, shorty!” she exclaims, laughing when Levi flips her off. “Don’t forget your gloomy attitude!”

“And don’t you forget about letters I sent to you,” Levi stands up, throwing his paper cup in a trash bin next to Hange’s desk. “You have two days to answer them all.”

“I know, I know,” Hange waves him off. “I don’t need you or Moblit to tell me how to do my job.”

Levi raises an eyebrow at that, looking overly skeptical. “Two days,” he dryly reminds her before leaving her small office.

For a moment more, Hange continues staring after him with a fond smile on her lips.

Back to work, Zoe, she shakes herself and returns her attention to the computer screen. Her mail is still opened there, and Hange scrolls down to the end, searching for a username she hopes will pop out.

Almost near the end, it does, and Hange can’t keep in a quiet squeal of delight.

[email protected]

The username is a bit ridiculous, pompous even, so Hange opts for a shorter and, in her opinion, more accurate one – lover boy.

Every two weeks without a fail, that same user sends Hange a letter, asking for an advice. They all wary in everything, but the subject – a person the lover boy has a crush on.

What do I do to become closer to her, what is the best way to make her smile…

Each and every letter, without a fail, brightens Hange’s day, no matter how shitty it was. The care, affection and love that radiate from these letters melt her heart and strengthen her belief that the world is truly a wonderful place if kind-hearted people like him still live here.

Apparently, romance isn’t quite dead yet.

Gripping the edge of her chair to at least try and conceal her excitement, Hange eagerly opens the letter and starts reading.

Thank you for your last advice, as always, it helped.

We’re growing closer, at least, it feels like we do. However, there is another problem that I hope you can help me with.

Admittedly, I’m not very good with my words. I never know what to say to tell the others how I feel, and sometimes I can come as rough and rather rude. It’s a fault of mine I had ever since childhood, and, truth be told, it never bothered me much.

But with her… it’s a bit different.

She can take a joke, and I know she doesn’t really mind my manner of communicating, but, still, I wish I could show her just how much she truly means to me. Sometimes it seems like she doesn’t quite realize it. Doesn’t really understand just how amazing and wonderful she is.

I know that the subject is not exactly ordinary, but your advices helped in the past, and I believe it will help this time too. Even if it wouldn’t, it’d be interesting to read your opinion on that.

Thank you in advance.

After finishing the letter, Hange starts rereading it, rubbing her forehead in thought. The lover boy is right, the subject isn’t easy at all. The lack of details and context complicates things even further.

A lot of people struggle at communicating what they feel, and it’s especially true about romantic feelings. But different people struggle in different ways.

Someone like Moblit, for example, is open enough with his affection, but he’d stutter to death sooner than confess to someone.

Someone like Erwin can charm pretty much anyone. His carefully crafted words and easy, handsome smile do all the job for him, but his words are crafted just a little too carefully and his smiles come a little too easily, and, as a result, he only rarely comes off as truly sincere.

And then there is Levi, whose walls are higher than skyscrapers and mightier than a fortress. But once you get past them, once you invest enough time and effort to break them down, you’ll find a gentle, caring man, who just isn’t used to showing his true feelings.

Hange can only guess what type the lover boy is.

Sighing, she decides to leave his letter for now and deal with it after she finishes with the rest. Somehow she feels that finding a lost lobster would be much easier than dealing with that particular dilemma.

***

A couple of busy days, filled with Erwin's warnings - Hange, remember the reputation of our agency rests on your shoulders, Nanaba's cheerful encouragements - you can do it, Hange! you'll charm the guy in no time, I know you will, Mike's horrible jokes - if you can't charm him, just ask Levi to punch him, that might do the trick too, and Moblit's frantic remindings, spoken over the phone in a throaty voice, later Hange and Levi arrive to the café Zeke had chosen for their meeting.

“It looks fancy,” Hange whispers to Levi, eyeing the entrance with a slight pout. “I didn’t know it’d be so fancy.”

“That’s Zeke for you,” Levi grunts. “Fancy asshole.”

“R-right,” suddenly every single precaution Erwin had told her come back, more frightening than ever. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The inside of the café seems even fancier, and Hange spares a longing look at her attire – an over-sized yellow pullover thrown over a light green plaid shirt with a brown khakis and worn-out converses. It’s not something one would call professional or stylish, not that she owns anything much better… but now Hange wishes she at least combed her hair.

She doesn’t know what Zeke looks like, hasn’t bothered with looking him up, since Levi is accompanying her, but she easily spots him even without Levi’s help.

Just as the café’s entrance, just as its interior, Zeke looks fancy. He’s not overdressed, in his dark green shirt and light cardigan he is all but casual, but damn, he is one of the leading journalists at the magazine called Money Island, and it clearly shows.

Levi wasn’t wrong about the fancy part, but he also failed to mention that Zeke is handsome. Extremely so. Blond and bearded, he is not exactly Hange’s type, but, well… there are exceptions to every rule.

Not just attractive, but, apparently, Zeke is a gentleman too.

He rises from his seat as soon, as he sees Hange, a blinding in its brilliance smile curving his thin lips.

“Hange Zoe,” he greets and eagerly shakes her hand. “I’m so happy you’ve come.”

The smile doesn’t leave his face, doesn’t even diminish, but his eyes narrow ever so slightly, when they land on Hange’s companion.

“I didn’t know you’d bring a friend.”

His voice is friendly, if only a little surprised, but his eyes are colder than they’d been before.

“It’s our editor,” Hange pats Levi’s back. “Levi—”

“We’ve met before,” Zeke’s still showing that same smile, but there is just enough frost in his voice to tell Hange that there is no secret affection between him and Levi.

“I’m glad Hange invited me to trail along. It’s nice to see you again, Zeke.”

Levi doesn’t bother hiding his sarcasm or schooling his expression in something more amicable. Hange rolls her eyes and kicks him as soon as Zeke turns around.

Will it kill you if you try to act a little friendlier? her gaze asks him.

I warned you about this, Levi’s huff answers.

Oh, well. At least, he didn’t call her four-eyes in front of Zeke. Clearly, that’s an improvement.

Hange sighs and sends a quick prayer that this meeting won’t turn into a complete disaster. She sits down in a booth across from Zeke and hopes that her smile will be enough to counter any possible tensions.

“The strawberry cupcakes are exceptionally good here,” Zeke notes, when a waitress bring them menus.

Without looking up from a menu, Hange nods. The prices in this café are much higher than she is comfortable with. She’d never bring her friends here, but, well… Zeke isn’t a friend, so Hange swallows down her discontent and orders herself a coffee with a strawberry cupcake.

She doesn’t even like strawberry cupcakes.

“Let’s start, shall we?” Zeke says after three of them receive their orders.

Hange takes a sip from her coffee – it’s honestly not that good to be so pricey – and tries to look composed and professional.

Truth be told, she doesn’t know why she is here. An interview, Erwin told her, but why would anyone want to interview her? She’s not a celebrity – not an actor or an artist, she’s a journalist, who works for a small, local magazine.

Why would a person like Zeke and a magazine like Money Island be interested in someone like her?

“I’ve prepared a small list of questions…” Zeke takes out his tablet, turning it on. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes,” Hange says, smiling when she feels Levi’s calf press to hers in a silent encouragement.

“So tell me more about yourself – your hobbies, talents outside of work…”

It starts easy like that, and Hange loses herself in her ramblings so much that she doesn’t notice that Zeke isn’t taking any notes.

But after a few trivial questions – what do you like about journalism, what made you choose this career path, what are subjects you’re most passionate about – everything gets just a little bit stranger.

“What are your greatest strengths?” Zeke asks, then follows it with, “What are your greatest weaknesses?”

Where do you see yourself in five years? What’s your dream job? Do you consider yourself successful?

One question after another tumbles out of his lips, and soon Hange realizes.

It’s not a simple interview, it’s a job interview.

A confused look Levi sends her confirms her suspicion.

“Mister Yeager?” Hange calls after a question about how she prefers to be managed.

“Call me Zeke,” he retorts charmingly.

“Zeke,” she forces a smile and hopes it doesn’t look too fake. “I don’t wish to appear rude… but what is the meaning of this? I thought you wanted an interview for your magazine?”

“It’s more for me than Money Island,” Zeke confesses. “I wish to get to know you better.”

Beside her, Levi tenses. Amongst the noise and clutter of the café, Hange can almost hear the sound of his teeth gritting. She doesn’t spare a glance in his direction, too busy gawking at Zeke.

“May I ask…” she clears her throat, feeling too far away from her comfort zone. “…Why?”

“Sina’s Gossips is a fairly small magazine,” Zeke begins, his voice as sugary as a strawberry cupcake before Hange. “But it became ten times more popular after you started working there. Clearly, you have a lot of potential, and something tells me that advice columnist is not your dream position. So I thought you’d be interested in my offer.”

“Your offer?”

“To change your workplace.”

“But I have no experience in the finance area.”

“I’m willing to give you a chance,” Zeke says graciously. “You’ll have to be approved my by superiors first, of course, and then you’ll need to undergo a bit of training...”

Hange can’t help but frown. “I can’t just abandon my previous position like that.”

“I’m not asking you to. Not now, at least.”

“So what exactly it is that you want?”

It’s Levi who asks, and his low, almost menacing voice startles Hange. She turns to look at him, but his face is as guarded and neutral as it always is.

Zeke raises an eyebrow, his expression curious as he studies Levi. But when he shifts his attention back to Hange, the same handsome smile is already plastered on his lips. “I want to offer a collaboration project. We can use your platform to let people ask things, not about their everyday struggles, but to ask you for an advice about their finance related problems. Our magazine can advertise it, and this will help to expand both yours and ours audience. And…” Zeke pauses, lowering his voice just a fraction. “It will give us a chance to see if you’re up to the job at Money Island or not.”

“I…” it’s a lot to take in, and, naturally, Hange struggles to find her own words. That’s why she’s so grateful when Levi decides to step in.

“We have to discuss with our boss first. Then we can give you a definite answer.”

There is an edge to Zeke’s smile that tells Hange exactly what he thinks about Levi’s interruption. However, it disappears instantly, in a blink of an eye. With his features much more relaxed, Zeke waves a waitress over and asks to bring them a bill.

“I’ll be waiting for your answer,” he says as he stands up. “I enjoyed our time together, Hange Zoe. And I know our companionship will bring me just as much pleasure. I hope we’ll keep in touch.”

He leaves after that, but Hange isn’t yet ready to go. She pushes the cupcake around the plate, mulling it over.

“What do you think?” she asks Levi after five minutes of silence.

“What do you think?” he shoots back, and Hange scoffs, kicking him under the table.

“I asked you first.”

Levi doesn’t answer immediately. He stares at her for a long moment, and there is something in his eyes, something Hange can’t quite understand the meaning of. She wants to know, though, almost asks him, but then Levi breaks the eye contact and slumps back in his chair.

“You’ve always wanted to do something more, right? It’s your chance, Hange.”

“And…” she swallows a heavy lump in her throat and briefly wonders where it had come from. Levi is right, that what she always wanted. Then why she is so hesitant to even entertain the idea? “Do you think I should take it?”

“It’s your chance,” Levi repeats.

He stands up and wraps his hand around her elbow to push Hange up too. His touch is too careful, almost gentle, and the confusion inside her continues to grow.

“Let’s go back to work,” he says, and adds in a voice so quiet, Hange almost misses it. “You did well, Hange.”

***

Hange goes to find Erwin as soon as they return to the office. She doesn’t tell him about the second part of Zeke’s offer, about the possibility that she’ll soon leave Sina’s Gossips and all of its employees, and focuses only on their future collaboration. Erwin listens to her frantic retelling with a calm, attentive face. He agrees to Zeke’s offer without much thought.

“That is,” he hastily adds, “if you wish to proceed with it, Hange. I don’t wish to force you, so if it’s not something you’re interested in...”

“No, no,” she shakes her head and hopes that the smile she forces on doesn’t look pained. “I’ll be happy to work on this project.”

Is she truly happy, though? Hange isn’t sure anymore.

***

She spends the whole evening and most hours of night thinking about it.

She goes to the Money Island’s website and reads most of their recent articles. She googles the most prominent employees and reads about them too, every bit of information she can get her hands on.

When the sun is starting to peek out from the horizon, Hange looks up Zeke. She finds out he has his own youtube channel, where he talks – no surprise here – about finance.

Being rich is easy

God, even the name of the channel reeks of arrogance.

But Hange has to admit – Zeke is good at what he’s doing. His pretentious manner of speaking and his apparent habit of scratching his ear is a little irritating, but he talks with confidence and ease that shows just how much knowledge and experience he has.

His videos are engrossing and his articles are, without a doubt, extremely well-written.

Hange likes Zeke, finds him interesting enough, but what he talks and writes about… she can’t help but think that it’s a bit too dull for her taste.

And it’s ironic, it’s foolish, she should be on a cloud nine from the opportunity presented to her. Hange feels like she would have been on a cloud nine… Three years ago.

But now she has a job she loves and people she loves working with. Should she really leave it behind just like that? Can she?

Then again, can she leave behind a dream she nurtured for as long as she could remember? Can she forget about every ambition and desire?

She doesn’t find an answer to that in the evening, it doesn’t come to her during the night.

And Hange can only hope that she’ll be able to answer it when the time comes.

***

But, instead, Saturday comes, and Hange forces these thought out of her head.

She wants to forget about her doubts, and with Nanaba’s fingers in her hair, a bottle of cold beer in her hands and Mike’s deep voice in her ears, forgetting about everything else is surprisingly easy.

They’re at Nanaba’s summer house, gathered around a brightly-lit brazier. Hange is warm, relaxed and content. Mike’s story about some fisherman from his hometown is a little boring, but Nanaba remedies that fault by whispering sarcastic comments to Hange.

When Mike’s thrilling tale is finally over, Erwin clears his throat, attracting everyone’s attention.

“In case some of you didn’t know, Hange had a very peculiar meeting yesterday…”

“Right,” Nanaba’s grin is too wide and gleeful for Hange’s taste, and when Nanaba fixes her eyes on her, Hange involuntarily squirms. “Very peculiar indeed.”

Knowing but not liking where this is going, Hange leaves the warmth of Nanaba’s lap and moves away. This action brings her to Levi’s side, and he tenses, but doesn’t protest which Hange takes as a sign that she can become a little bolder and lean on his shoulder.

Perhaps, he’ll shield her from Nanaba’s curiosity. Although, Hange has to admit that it’s highly unlikely. No one can stop Nanaba if she gets curious about something. Hange always admired that about her. Not now, though.

“So tell us, Hange,” Nanaba slowly begins, her eyes glinting in the light of the fire. Hange takes a quick survey, and confirms that, yep, everyone is looking at her. Apparently, Nanaba is not the only who is curious. “Did you have a good time?”

“Well, Zeke’s offer looks promising, and that project certainly is intriguing…”

“God, leave that boring stuff to Erwin,” Nanaba rolls her eyes.

Mike agrees with her by adding, “Not everyone here is as nerdy as you two.”

“Exactly,” Nanaba nods. “We want to know more about Zeke. Is he handsome?”

Perhaps, it’s the beer or the warm atmosphere or the fact that everyone – including Levi – is looking expectantly at her, but Hange chuckles and says, “Very much so. Not in the way our fearless leader is,” she salutes Erwin with a bottle, enjoying the slight blush that appears on his cheeks. “But he’s still attractive.”

There is pure wickedness in Nanaba’s gaze, when she leans a little closer to Hange and asks, “Is he as handsome as Levi?”

Hange chokes on her beer. Her eyes water as she coughs it out, her throat is sore, but with the help of Levi’s gentle pats, Hange manages to get her breathing back under control.

She glares at Nanaba as soon as she straightens out, but then remembers the stupid question and feels color rise to her face. She can blame it on a coughing fit. Probably. Hopefully.

“It depends on one’s preferences…” she mumbles, hating how weak her voice sounds.

Nanaba is merciless, though. “What’s your opinion then?”

It takes Hange more than a moment to gather enough courage to sneak a glance at Levi. Their eyes meet, but for no more than a heartbeat. Levi looks away instantly, his hands clenching into fists.

Hange decides to be honest then. Her gaze still fixed to Levi, she murmurs, “No, Zeke is nearly not as handsome as Levi.”

Nanaba coos, Mike guffaws and Erwin simply smiles, like that is exactly the kind of answer he expected.

Levi doesn’t react at all, but Hange is still pressed against him and so she feels – he relaxes considerably.

Hange relaxes too, and moving closer to his ear, she whispers, “Hey, help me get revenge on Nanaba.”

The look in Levi’s eyes is positively evil, wicked enough to send a shiver down a spine. Hange feels that shiver acutely, but… not because it scares her. Truthfully, it has a diametrically opposite effect on her.

“With great pleasure, four-eyes.”

“Oi, Nanaba!” Hange calls. She doesn’t know what to say next, finds it hard to concentrate with Levi so close to her, but she trusts he’ll back her up.

As always, he doesn’t disappoint.

“Is that your lipstick on Mike’s neck?”

There is no lipstick on his neck, Nanaba isn’t even wearing one, but they both panic and they both exchange quick glances. It’s enough of an evidence to make everyone laugh.

Mike is smiling, as he pulls Nanaba closer, tucking her under his arm. “We really suck at being discreet, aren’t we, Nana?”

“That we are,” she agrees with a smile as gentle and loving as Mike’s. “I guess there is something we want to tell you then.”

“About damn time,” Erwin shakes his head. “Do you know how many times I’ve caught you making out in the supply closet? I was getting tired of keeping quiet about it.”

“You didn’t keep quiet about it,” Levi grumbles. “Every time you caught them you ran to tell me.”

“And then me,” Hang gleefully adds.

Nanaba and Mike groan in unison, their faces red as tomato.

“We have the worst friends ever.”

Hange laughs. She very much begs to differ.

***

Beers and constant laughter very soon make all of them sleepy. That’s how Hange finds herself sandwiched between Erwin and Mike on a bed in the guest room, and though there is enough space for another person to fit in, Nanaba claims the master bedroom, and Levi takes one look at them and retires to the living room, sprawling over the couch.

In Erwin and Mike’s arms Hange feels safe and content. Her previous doubts take a seat back and let her enjoy the night with her friends. Thankfully, sleep comes to her that much easier than it did last night.

It doesn’t last for long, though.

The sun still isn’t up, but the world isn’t dark anymore, when Hange wakes up from her slumber.

Erwin is snoring into her ear, but there is a vacant place to her left, where Mike used to sleep. It’s not hard to guess where he had disappeared to, and Hange allows herself a small smile at the expanse of her friends’ happiness.

She doesn’t feel like sleeping anymore, so she throws one blanket over Erwin and snatches another one, wrapping it around her shoulders. With her feet bare and still dressed in a pajama shorts and Mike’s t-shirt that almost reaches her knees, she leaves the room and goes downstairs, walking outside. She takes a seat at a porch swing and draws a slow, deep breath, taking in the beauty around her.

The world is only starting to wake up, and grey color is more prominent than anything else, but there are just enough soft shades of purple, blue and pink to make up for it. Nanaba’s house sits just at the edge of a clearing that leads to a small lake, and the morning brings thick streak of fog that spreads over crystal surface.

It’s beautiful enough to take her breath away, and Hange loses herself in the calm, gentle feeling that finds its way inside her.

That feeling is strong enough to hide the sound of soft footsteps that approach her. Hange notices someone else’s presence only when the swing starts moving. She startles, her head darting to the side, but relaxes instantly, when she sees Levi’s sharp profile. He’s holding two cups of steaming tea in his hands, and hands one cup to Hange.

“Thank you,” she smiles, inhaling the sweet aroma of tea. It tastes just as sweet as it smells, she realizes after taking the first sip. Then, she turns her attention back to Levi. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No, I usually wake up at this time. Insomnia,” he says, and, right, now Hange remembers something-something about Levi sleeping not nearly enough for a normal human being. “Heard that you woke up and decided you might want a company.”

“How did you know that it was me who woke up?”

Levi gives her a short glance before shrugging and returning his gaze back to the scenery in front of them. “Your steps are different,” he answers, like it explains everything.

It does explain everything for Levi, Hange muses. He works in a strange, obscure way, so very different from other people. That’s why Hange likes him. That’s why she feels so comfortable with him.

Perhaps, it’s a fault of a dim, morning light or, perhaps, it’s her own sleepiness that changes her perception, but Levi looks a little different, softer around the edges. Because of it, Hange allows herself a small indulgence and moves close enough for their shoulders to touch.

Just a fraction, barely an inch, but she feels Levi move closer as well.

All of it – the colors merging on a horizon, the fog that makes everything look almost ethereal, the sweet tea made by Levi, Levi himself – fuse together to create an impossibly light, gentle feeling that very rarely visits Hange.

In that moment she feels happy, so happy that not even a brief thought of what’s going to happen if I leave is enough to ruin that mood. She simply drowns that pesky doubt down with tea and turns to look at Levi.

“I’m so lucky to have met you all,” she reveals to him in a quiet voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so happy before.”

Levi stares at her, and there is something in his eyes, something fierce and at the same time vulnerable that Hange can’t quite understand. She isn’t sure she wants to, not now, at least.

“Let’s stay like this,” she says, almost a plea. “At least, for a little while.”

“As you wish,” Levi agrees easily as though… as though whatever is it that she wants, he’ll get her.

The thought is both comforting and terrifying. Comforting, because it means he cares about her, because it means she’s not alone anymore.

And terrifying, because it makes her happy, and Hange isn’t sure she’d be able to part with that happiness, when the time comes.

***

No matter how much Hange wants to prolong that fuzzy feeling and stay in that small bubble with her friends, all too soon the weekend ends. Monday comes and with it arrives a new wave of responsibilities.

But not only responsibilities return – Moblit does too, and as soon as she sees him, Hange hugs him close to her chest, laughing when he starts complaining that she squeezes him too much.

“It’s been too quiet without your nagging!” Hange pats him on a back, smiling from ear to ear. “And you’ve missed one hell of a party! We’ve been sleeping so peacefully without your snores.”

“You like my snores,” Moblit argues, and he is right to do so. Moblit’s throaty snores lull her to sleep better than any lullaby. Besides, cuddling with him is always a delight, his tummy softer than any pillow. “And I’ve heard about that party already,” he continues with an almost sly look. “Nanaba told they found you and Levi getting cozy on a porch.”

Hange huffs, turning away from his knowing look. “I see Nanaba’s obsession with gossips is infectious.”

“It’s Sina’s Gossips we’re working at. Love for gossip is the requirement to get a position here,” Moblit jokes, and Hange shakes her head with a low chuckle.

Moblit’s been absent for just a week, but it was enough to make her miss him like crazy. She’s glad he is back. And more than anything, she wants to chat some more, but the work doesn’t wait.

She contacts Zeke as she drinks her first cup of coffee, and not even five minutes pass before he schedules another meeting with her.

There is no need for your editor to join us this time :)

Hange isn’t sure what irritates her more – Zeke’s apparent dislike of Levi or the stupid emoji.

However, Erwin’s words ring in her ear, yet another reminder that this is important, Hange, we can’t afford to blow this off, especially not with a man like Zeke on board. So she replies him with a stupid emoji of her own, and, gritting her teeth, adds that she is looking forward to their meeting.

Then, not wanting to repeat her last mistake, Hange checks the place Zeke has invited her to. This time it’s a restaurant, and a flashy one at that. The time he sets the meeting for – seven pm – is another hint that it is not a casual meeting, and therefore she needs to wear something better than her usual clothes.

She isn’t sure she can pull it off all by herself, though, and she isn’t sure there is at least one item of clothing in her closet that can be classified as fancy, so Hange asks Nanaba to help.

Nanaba agrees instantly, her eyes brightening up at the prospect. She promises to come over at the evening of the meeting with Zeke, bring some new clothes for Hange and pick up something classy.

At five pm sharp, just two hours before her meeting, Nanaba shows at Hange’s place, holding two large packages.

She doesn’t come alone, and with wide eyes Hange watches how Mike, Moblit and Levi trail inside her apartment after Nanaba.

“Erwin couldn’t make it, because he’s old and boring,” Nanaba cheerfully informs her. “But he asked to send him pictures of every look I’d pick for you.”

“Has anyone told you how wicked and vile you are?” Hange asks her with a glare that could almost rival Levi’s.

“Mike makes sure to tell me this regularly,” Nanaba flippantly replies. “Now go and get changed! We don’t have all evening.”

It takes five changes of clothes to finally find something that satisfies Nanaba’s fashion sense and doesn’t make Hange feel like she’s out of her element.

She is dressed in a dark brown suit with a black shirt underneath, and after Nanaba makes a controlled mess out of her hair, Hange has to agree – she looks very good.

“Let’s show you to the boys,” Nanaba whispers before taking a quick photo for Erwin. She pushes Hange into the living room, where Mike, Moblit and Levi are already waiting for her, all of them nursing a bottle of beer. “We’ve got yes from Erwin!” Nanaba cheerfully announces after checking her phone.

“That’s a definite yes from me too,” Mike nods in agreement.

“You look so handsome,” Moblit says earnestly, despite his shy smile.

Levi doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from Hange either. As she waits for his verdict, Hange wonders if the desire to change her look, because Levi obviously doesn’t like it, is simply stupid or downright pathetic.

“Levi,” Nanaba glowers at him, when the silence stretches for far too long.

Hange wants to deflate the tension with some joke, but then Levi clears his throat. “Not bad, four-eyes,” he says, making her heart stumble. “Go get that stupid monkey.”

Hange wants to hug him, so, so much, but she’s afraid to ruin the suit, so she settles on thanking him with a bright, happy smile.

Levi’s expression softens like that is all the thanks he desires.

“Continue making heart eyes at Levi, and you’ll miss your little meeting, Hans,” Nanaba whispers.

Hange hopes the red on her cheeks will be interpreted as anger, but Nanaba is right – she has to hurry, all this effort would be in vain if she arrives even a little too late.

“C’mon,” Mike wraps an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll give you a lift.”

Hange smiles, feeling so grateful – to all of them. She wouldn’t be ready for this evening if it wasn’t for Nanaba, she probably wouldn’t get that deal with Zeke if it wasn’t for Levi, her column wouldn’t be so successful if it wasn’t for Moblit’s assistance and Mike’s constant help, she wouldn’t have this job, this family if it wasn’t for Erwin who decided to hire her.

They all wish her luck one last time at the entrance of the restaurant. Nanaba and Moblit fruitlessly try to peek inside and get a glimpse of Zeke, when Levi wraps his hand around her wrist, dragging Hange aside.

“It’s Tuesday,” he says matter-of-factly.

More than a little confused, Hange blinks, then nods in affirmative, she knows it’s Tuesday, she’s not that disorganized.

“It’s Tuesday,” he repeats, tilting his head just so.

It is only then, to Hange’s shame, that she finally understands what he means.

“The letters, right?” she grins, proud of her own quick-wittedness. It took her only a moment to guess.

“I sent them over already. If you won’t be too exhausted after the meeting…”

“I’ll check them out as soon as I get home,” she promises.

There is nothing else to say, nothing else to do but walk away from Levi and inside the restaurant, where Zeke is probably waiting for her. Still… Hange is reluctant to leave. There is something between her and Levi, something almost tangible, and it keeps her glued to his side.

This feeling, it grows bigger, harder to ignore, until—

Until it disappears, when Nanaba tugs at her hand. Hange allows her friend to pull her away from Levi, stopping just for a second to turn around and wave him goodbye. Levi’s face is set in the usual scowl, but his gaze softens, and it fuels Hange with determination and resolve.

She looks around and, encouraged by her friends’ unwavering support, steps inside the restaurant.

***

Just as Hange predicted, Zeke is already there. When he notices her approach, he stands up and with a dazzling smile and pulls a chair for her.

“Hange Zoe,” he all but purrs. “You’re absolutely ravishing tonight.”

His words are too sweet, Zeke himself is too sweet to seem genuine, but Hange gives him a smile nevertheless. His compliment doesn’t succeed in making her heart race like Levi’s quiet ‘not bad, four-eyes’ did, but it still pleases her.

She doesn’t believe he truly means it, knows that Zeke uses flirting to get something out of her, but, oh well… if a man like Zeke Yeager wants something from her… isn’t it already fluttering?

“I took a liberty to order for you myself, if you don’t mind,” Zeke says.

Hange does mind, not that she can express it now, after Zeke already ordered. That’s exactly what he was counting for, Hange can very well see it – in the slight curve of his mouth and an amused shine in his eyes.

“As long as the meal is delicious,” she murmurs slyly.

Zeke laughs, and Hange mentally congratulates herself. Erwin would be so proud.

Speaking of Erwin…

“My boss agreed to your offer, he’s very interested in it and hopes…”

“Hange,” Zeke cuts her off with a wave of his hand. “We have work email to discuss things like that. Delicious food, beautiful night… why don’t we simply enjoy it? We can talk about work later.”

Hange frowns, looking at the man before her intently. For the life of her, she can’t comprehend what does he want from her.

“You’re a journalist with bright future ahead of you,” Zeke says, like he knows what exactly Hange is thinking about. “I want to help you succeed, but, aside from that, you’re an intriguing person. I simply wish to get to know you better. Is it so bad?”

Either she really sucks at reading people, or Zeke is that good of an actor, but… he seems genuine enough. Hange struggles with keeping her suspicion.

Before she can give him an answer, their food is brought in. The plate before Hange looks more expensive than she could probably afford, and she is pretty sure she won’t be able to even pronounce the name of a dish, but she takes a first bite, and… can barely resist a moan.

It’s good, really good – spicy but not bitter, and just crunchy and juicy enough.

“Is it delicious?” Zeke quirks an eyebrow, smug and amused.

The dish is so tasty, Hange can’t find it in herself to snap at him. “It’s perfect,” she confesses, sending another slice into her mouth.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, to be honest, I was quite nervous about your reaction.”

Zeke doesn’t look nervous in the slightest, but if he’s so dead-set on playing a gentleman tonight, Hange can indulge him.

“So what exactly do you want to know about me?” she asks, pouring wine in both of their glasses.

“Ah, right,” Zeke pushes the glasses up his nose. “The first thing I’m interested in…”

***

They spend the whole dinner talking, jumping from one topic to another. Despite his arrogance, Zeke is an interesting man, he knows how to entertain and engage his companion, and so very soon Hange loses herself in conversation with him.

Time flies fast, and when they stand up from the table, Hange is shocked to discover that it’s almost ten in the evening.

Zeke remains a gentleman till the very end, and after paying their bill, he drives Hange home. He stops just outside of her apartment block, and when he turns off the engine, Hange knows she is ought to say something.

“I had fun. Thank you for the evening.” She says, and she means it. She doesn’t feel nearly as happy as when she is with her friends from Sina’s Gossips, but Zeke proved to be a good company. Hange is looking forward to working with him.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Zeke tilts his head, ever the charmer. “I’ll see you again?”

“Sure,” Hange agrees and gets out of the car. “Good night,” she yells into his open window and then hurries up the steps to her apartment.

Exhaustion sips into her bones the moment Hange crosses the threshold. She kicks off the shoes and takes off the suit, trudging up to the shower. Once she is clean and fresh, she falls onto her bed and gets under the blankets. Only then, Hange remembers her conversation with Levi.

With the last bit of her energy, she takes the phone into her hands and unlocks it, going immediately to the mail. She isn’t awake enough to read all the letters, so she just quickly scrolls through them. A thank you message from a man who found his lobster… a distraught mother who doesn’t know how to communicate with her son… a middle-aged teacher with a mid-life crisis… Hange scrolls further down, until she sees a familiar username.

She smiles and opens the letter.

Good day, and thank you again for the last advice. Admittedly, I was a bit skeptical about it, “trust that she knows you well enough” seemed just that side of too easy, but I think she does know me well enough to see through my rude exterior. What’s more, I think she knows me well enough to see things I don’t even wish to show her. I can’t yet decide if that’s a good thing, or a terrifying one.

Alas, there is another problem, one that bothers me constantly.

Without getting too much into details… there is a chance she might leave the company we both work for. I know it might not seem that awful, we can still remain friends even if we don’t work together, but… I’m afraid we’ll drift apart when she leaves. Without common ground, without our friends bringing us together, she wouldn’t have a reason to talk to me. Maybe, she wouldn’t even want to.

But that’s not the thing that bothers me the most. She hasn’t yet decided if she wants to leave or not, and, as much as I am reluctant to let her go, I… I wish she follows her dreams, even if they tear us apart. But she’s perceptive, and, as I’ve mentioned before, she knows things about me that I very well try to hide. So what if she learns about my reluctance? What if it somehow influences her final decision?

I don’t wish for that to happen, whether she stays or she leaves, I don’t want to be her reason for either.

Because if she grows to be unhappy about that decision… I don’t think I’ll be able to take.

I… don’t think I’ve explained my point clear enough, maybe, because it’s not clear enough in my mind too. However, as always, I put my trust in you.

You haven’t left me down before, after all.

Thanks for bearing with me. Hopefully, it’s not the last time.

Hange groans in frustration, as she comes to an end of the letter. Here she was hoping to receive some sweet news from her lover boy, but he presented her with another dilemma instead. And one that is so similar to hers too. Maybe, it’s a sign, a way of universe telling her… something. The message is not yet clear enough.

Perhaps, with a little time, she’ll be able to decipher it. But as for now, Hange decides, putting the phone on top of the bedside table, the only thing she really, really needs is sleep.

And, thankfully, it comes to her easily.

***

The next day Hange dives deep into work and stays in the depth of articles, lectures, textbooks and letters from readers for entire two weeks.

In almost everything, Zeke is the one to assist her. Email exchange, video calls, personal meetings… because of all that, Zeke seems to be constantly by her side.

He invites her to his company, organizes the tour around the offices, introduces her to every employee. They’re nice, Hange supposes. Overly politely and unnaturally friendly, but that’s to be expected from total strangers.

Zeke shows her his office – a big room with glass walls and large window that overlooks the city. It drives to a point just how different their newspapers are. It almost makes Hange self-conscious about inviting him to her own office. Thankfully, Levi is there to chase away any discomfort.

As soon as Zeke gets inside their office, Levi is there, glaring at him like he’s trying to burn a hole in his head.

“As Hange’s editor, I’m here to oversee your work with her,” he explains, and proceeds to critique everything Zeke does.

Zeke’s habit of scratching his ear makes him look like a monkey and his beard makes him look like a homeless person, his voice makes Levi’s head hurt, his cologne stinks, he talks too much and works too little, his jokes aren’t funny and his remarks are unnecessary. Levi finds a way to insult everything about Zeke.

Hange would have reprimanded him, she did a few times, but she can’t deny that Levi’s hatred is… kind of funny. It’s petty and childish, but at the same time hilarious to the point that Hange has to constantly bite the inside of her cheeks otherwise she’d be laughing at his jabs like a mad person.

Still, Zeke is an important business partner and her possible colleague, so…

“Please forgive Levi for his… lack of professionalism,” she tells Zeke when Levi leaves to bring them tea. Just moments before Levi had called Zeke ‘an insufferable snob who doesn’t give a single fuck about people around him’, so naturally, Hange feels that apology in an absolute necessity this time.

“Don’t worry, I’m not offended,” Zeke smiles, and it looks just that side of arrogant, reminding Hange about Levi’s words and making her feel like maybe, his assertion of Zeke isn’t entirely wrong. “His reason for acting like that is perfectly understandable. When one stands between a man and his… well,” Zeke trails off, staring at Hange enigmatically.

His what? Zeke is standing between Levi and… what? Is it the reason why they don’t like each other so much? Is it something that happened in the past? Or is it a recent development?

Hange wants to ask, but the moment for this is lost, when Levi comes back, holding a trail in his hands.

“I spat into your coffee,” he says to Zeke with the most deadpan expression. If Hange didn’t know Levi a little better, she’d believe that he actually did it. But Zeke isn’t fooled so easily, so he just wolfishly grins and thanks Levi in a sweet voice. Levi swears under his breath and then turns to Hange, murmuring, “Yours is with three sugars.”

“Just as you like it,” Zeke sing-songs, and Hange can’t stop laughter from bubbling out of her throat at the sight of pure hatred on Levi’s usually indifferent face.

“Let’s get back to work,” she says, still chuckling.

Thankfully, they both listen to her.

***

When Zeke leaves to return to his own office, Hange breathes out in relief. She stretches her arms and sprawls out her long legs beneath the desk with a pleased hum. Working with Zeke is satisfying enough, but with just Levi around, she feels much more at ease.

“So,” she nudges his foot with her leg. “What’s up with you and Zeke? What is the source of a drama?” and, remembering Zeke’s previous comment Hange adds, “Did he steal your crush or what?”

Levi looks affronted. He glares at Hange, hands crossed on his chest and a slight pout curving his lips.

Hange thinks he’s going to tell her to fuck off, almost expects him too, but this time, Levi surprises her.

“Remember my cousin? Mikasa?”

Of course, Hange does. How could she ever forget Mikasa, the only person in this world with a scowl as scary as Levi’s?

“Well, Zeke has a little brother, a brat named Eren.”

Hange nods, she vaguely remembers Levi mentioning some brother, and, more than once, Zeke had bragged to her about Eren, his darling sibling.

“He and Mikasa are friends, and my idiot cousin has been pining after him for years.”

Hange has some troubles imagining a pining Ackerman, and she briefly wonders what Levi would act like, if he had been pining after someone. Can he even pine?

“Eren had been an asshole to her, even made her cry once, so...”

“So?” Hange prompts, practically at the edge of her seat.

“So I decided to teach him a lesson. I wanted to scare him a bit, but it kinda backfired when Zeke spotted the two of us. I wasn’t going to punch him or anything, but apparently that’s how it looked.”

“And?”

Levi sighs. “And Zeke did what he could to protect his little brother.”

“He punched you?” Hange’s eyes are wide, as she tries to imagine that particular scene. Zeke is so much bigger than Levi, if he had punched him… Hange suddenly feels very angry.

“No, although I wish he did. It happened just outside of our university, and so Zeke had me reported to the dean. Something about assaulting a minor… it almost got me expelled.”

“What a fucker,” Hange growls, her fist clenching involuntarily. She knew just how hard it was for Levi to get into that university and pay for the classes, and to think that he nearly got expelled because of something so stupid…

“It was an asshole move, I agree. But a part of me actually understands him.”

“Huh? Why?”

Hange can’t even fathom a reason to defend what Zeke did. She knows she would never forgive him for that. It doesn’t seem like Levi has forgiven him either, but he understands him? Hange doesn’t think she would be as gracious.

“Do you have a sibling, four-eyes?” Levi asks. “Or a cousin?”

“No.”

With a thoughtful expression, he hums. “That’s why you don’t understand.”

His answer confuses Hange. And at the same time, it intrigues her. She knows that a bond between siblings is a special one, and as an only child, she can’t grasp the meaning of it. Levi seems to cherish his relationship with Mikasa, even if he always calls her a brat and complains about her bad manners. It must be nice to have someone, a friend that lives with you in the same house. Hange can’t exactly imagine it, but she acknowledges the importance of it anyway.

“But enough of this,” Levi says, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Your collaboration with Zeke is almost at its end. Your article will come out in a few days, have you decided what are you going to do next? Have you already told Erwin that Zeke offered you a place at his newspaper?”

“I haven’t.”

She doesn’t quite know how to approach this conversation. What’s more, she doesn’t quite know what her decision is. Money Island is an opportunity that shouldn’t be ignored, Hange doesn’t want to ignore it. A resignation letter that is hidden inside the desk's drawer is a testament to this. It will give her career a boost she always dreamed of, and Hange can’t let it just slide past her. She isn’t going to, probably, but… she is reluctant.

“We still don’t know if our collaboration will turn out to be a success or not,” she adds, an attempt to justify her indecisiveness. “Maybe, Zeke wouldn’t want to do anything with me, if we fail.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Levi rolls his eyes, apparently refusing to even entertain this idea. “The article will be a success. And you’ll do great at that job.”

Hange snickers in an attempt to lighten up the mood, to distract Levi from her unease. “Sounds like you just want to get rid of me.”

“It’s your decision,” Levi doesn’t deny, not confirm her comment. It sets Hange just a little further on edge. “What I want doesn’t matter whatsoever.”

His words sound familiar, strangely so, but Hange refuses to think about it any further. The words might sound like those from the lover boy’s letter, but the context is different. Levi and him are different. And whoever lover boy is devoted to, Hange is sure that she and that person are different too.

“I’m starving,” Levi stands up, a bit too abruptly, but Hange is too lost in her thoughts to take note of it. “Let’s steal some food from Mike.”

Hange smiles, grateful for the offer, and stands up to join Levi. “I saw Erwin bring yoghurt today.”

“We need to hurry then,” he grabs her hand, quickening her stride. “Otherwise Nanaba will steal it before we even have a chance.”

Hange laughs and eagerly follows after him.

***

When the article finally comes out, it turns out to be a glaring success. Both newspapers gain new audience, a number of newcomers bigger than Erwin had anticipated.

Everyone is happy and proud of Hange accomplishment. No one is surprised at her success.

Mike, Nanaba and Moblit all but run into her office, interrupting each other in their haste to congratulate her.

Levi is the last one to approach her. He wears an unusually open, almost happy expression.

“Told you’d do great,” he murmurs.

Hange knows she shouldn’t do it, knows that Levi won’t enjoy it, his aversion to invasion of his personal space is proverbial, but… Hange accomplished a lot, right? She deserves a little celebratory gift.

With that in mind, she shortens the distance between them and goes in for the tightest, squishiest hug she had in a while.

Levi grunts his protest, but doesn’t object further. In a move that sets Hange’s heart ablaze, he wraps his arms around her too.

Hange likes hugs, receives lots of them – at parties, she often cuddles with Nanaba and Mike, sometimes falls asleep with Erwin holding her close, and Moblit always gets too clingy when he has a little too much to drink. She enjoys embracing her friends, but a hug from Levi – perhaps, Hange tries to reason, because it is such a rare occurrence – makes her brim with unbridled happiness.

***

After the short, but very much enjoyed celebratory hug, Hange invites her friends to get celebratory drinks.

The evening is great, it is filled with pleasant conversation and so much laughter that Hange’s stomach starts to ache from it. The evening is great, could have been perfect… if Hange could forget about the resignation letter that is hidden inside her desk’s drawer.

It is a little after midnight, when they leave the bar and call it a night. But while everyone else heads to their homes, Hange decides to come to the office.

Almost wistfully, she turns on the computer. The first thing she sees is the time and the date, displayed at the bottom of a screen, that tells her it’s the early hours of Wednesday.

The second thing she sees is a notification that Levi sent her a letter.

Right. It’s letters day. Perhaps, the last one for her.

Hange opens the mail, her eyes instantly searching for the familiar username. She doesn’t find it.

She goes through the whole archive again, this time much slower. Still nothing. Then – what if third time is a charm – she scrolls down to the bottom once more. And…

No luck.

It’s the first time in a while that Hange doesn’t receive a letter from the lover boy. It can be a good thing, she supposes. Maybe, the lover boy finally confessed and his beloved stayed with him. Maybe, that’s why he doesn’t need her advices anymore. Or, maybe… Maybe, she left. That will explain the absence of the letter too.

It’s just a letter, from a total stranger at that, but Hange feels sad. Her eyes water as she stares at the computer screen.

She can’t help but wonder – did lover boy’s beloved know about his feelings? Did she decide to leave anyway? Or was she none the wiser about the extent of his affections towards her? If so, did she regret leaving him behind?

Would Hange herself regret leaving her job and friends?

She’s not sure. The worst thing about regret is that it doesn’t appear until after you’ve already done something.

Maybe, she will regret it, maybe, she won’t. The only way to find out is to keep moving forward.

With a heavy heart and tear-streaked face, Hange takes the resignation letter out of the drawer.

***

When she breaks the news to Erwin, he is not at all surprised. He’s not even angry or disappointed, he doesn’t ask to reconsider. A part of Hange wishes he did. That would give her an excuse to stay.

His smile is sad, but at the same time it’s proud. He thanks Hange for three years of hard work and wishes her the best of luck.

“When you’ll get rich and famous,” he says as he wraps his arm around her. “Think of us sometimes, even if briefly.”

Hange’s answering laugh sounds more like a sob. “How could I ever forget all of you?”

Erwin chuckles and wipes away her tears. “You’re a star, Hange, don’t you ever doubt it.”

***

Her last day at work ends with Hange getting shit-faced at their favorite bar. Everyone else is just as drunk as she is – Nanaba refuses to let go of her arm, Mike keeps asking her to call him every day, and Moblit has already cried for three times.

The only semi-sober ones are Erwin, who has to show up to shareholders’ meeting tomorrow morning, and Levi, who is an abnormal human being that alcohol holds no power over.

In the end, he is the one tasked to bring Hange home.

For the entire of their ride to her apartment complex, Hange does her best to behave. She breaks down as soon as they get inside.

Apparently thinking that forcing her to shower would be too much of a bother, Levi leads her straight to the bedroom.

Hange doesn’t fight it, too exhausted to do so, but when Levi starts tucking her in, she grabs his wrist.

“Levi,” she says, and the amount of alcohol she consumed earlier makes it easier to not give a fuck that her voice sounds almost pleading. “Levi, what do you think about me leaving?”

Levi has said nothing on the topic throughout the whole evening. And, while he has given her a hint about his stance on it before, and it probably wouldn’t matter at all, since she is going to leave anyway, Hange still wants to know.

“I told you before,” he doesn’t pull his hand away from her grasp, if anything he moves a little closer, sitting at the edge of her bed. “My opinion doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” Hange assures. “To me, it matters.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Do you want me to stay?” she looks deep into his eyes, but be it the influence of alcohol or the absence of her glasses… she can’t read him at all. “If you really do, maybe—”

“No.” Levi cuts her off sharply. “No, Hange, there is no maybe. It’s your decision, and my feelings can’t become your reason.”

Again, the words are familiar, but Hange is drunk. Hange is filled with alcohol and conflicting emotions and lingering doubts. Besides, she’s too lost in the intense look inside Levi’s eyes to make sense of anything else.

“Good night,” Levi whispers, pressing his lips to her forehead in a feather light, achingly gentle kiss. “I hope you will be happy.”

He leaves just before Hange thinks of asking him to stay.

***

Hange swears to stay in touch with everyone at Sina’s Gossips, and she fully intends to keep that promise, but then— then the work gets in the way.

Her first week at Money Island is all but a blur. There is so much to do, so much to learn, and Hange gets lost in it almost immediately.

She stays in the office after hours, she works during weekends, every waking moment is essentially spent on trying to make sense of it all. The employees of Money Island help, which Hange is immensely grateful for, and she is no stranger to working after hours, but… what made her power through it before is not there anymore.

After two weeks she spends on her new job, Hange can’t deny it anymore – her new position is boring.

All these numbers, charts, net worth, stocks options, so on and so forth… it’s so dull and tiresome, it sucks all of Hange’s enthusiasm and inspiration.

That thrill, that excitement, it isn’t there anymore, there is no passion to fuel her, no purpose worth pursuing.

At least, her new colleagues are nice enough. However… Hange can’t help but compare them to her old ones.

Pieck is funny and kind, but not nearly as kind as Nanaba. Porco’s jokes, no matter what he thinks about them, aren’t as hilarious as Mike’s, and watching the development of his relationship with Pieck doesn’t give Hange the same thrill as Nanaba and Mike’s relationship did. Onyankopon is so polite, and he’s always ready to help, but he isn’t as endearingly awkward and cute as Moblit. Her new boss, Magath, isn’t half the man Erwin is. And Zeke… Zeke doesn’t even begin to compare with Levi.

Hange wants to like them, she really does, but all this work leaves little to no time to hang out with her friends, and their absence makes her more unwilling to connect with the new colleagues.

Out of sheer stubbornness, Hange continues working for another two weeks, hoping that maybe, with just enough time, she’ll get her spark back.

She is in the middle of writing another article, something about yet another failing company, when her phone pings, announcing a notification. Taking it a sign from above that she needs to take a break, Hange looks away from the computer screen and redirects her attention to the phone.

The notification announces a new letter, to her personal account. Intrigued, Hange opens it and almost squeals when she sees the username.

[email protected]

Hange stares at it for a long, long moment. The letter isn’t redirected as it usually was, meaning… the lover boy knows her personal mail address, or…

The lover boy is someone she actually knows.

Not sure which one is more improbable, Hange opens the letter. It’s an unusually short one.

It’s been almost a month since she left. I still miss her every damn day. Do you have any advice how to stop it?

In that moment, everything clicks. Every coincidence and conjunction, every moment she felt like she could connect to the lover boy, every time his dilemma perfectly reflected her own. The fact that he knows her email address and the fact that he mentioned one month, precisely the amount of time that passed since she left Sina’s Gossips… there are too many seemingly random things that together create a clear enough picture.

Hange rereads the letter again, just to make sure that it’s real, just to make sure that she isn’t imagining it, that it isn’t wishful thinking.

It doesn’t seem like it is, Hange doesn’t believe it is, and a realization forces a surprised, happy laugh out of her throat.

It takes her but a moment to set her mind, and then, Hange closes the word document with an article, not bothering to save it. She opens another one right after that, and starts writing what will be another resignation letter, this time addressed to CEO of Money Island, Theo Magath. When she finishes, Hange opens powerpoint and proceeds to make a presentation that consists of almost eighty slides.

Perhaps, not her best work, but Hange is confident it will suffice.

She doesn’t bother waiting for Magath to come back from his meeting to give him a letter. She bumps into Zeke just as she exits the small office they gave her, and she thrusts the resignation letter into his hands before he can pull her into one of his endless, mostly one-sided conversation that serve mainly to stroke his ego.

When he takes a look at the letter, Zeke seems regretful, but— not at all surprised.

“I hoped you’d stay with us for a little longer…” he confesses with a slow shake of his head. “But I guess we can’t do what we don’t love.”

“I’m sorry,” Hange says, a small compensation.

“Don’t be,” Zeke waves her off, as easily and smoothly as he does everything else. “However, if you ever decide to go on a date with someone taller than a middle-schooler…”

Really, even Zeke knows? Is she that oblivious?

“You’ll be the first one to know,” Hange laughs, feeling lighter than she did in weeks.

Without wasting anymore time, Hange ducks into her office, grabs what little things she brought here and then rushes to small, not at all impressive, but so dearly loved building of Sina’s Gossips.

Just before entering, she stops and looks up at the front door. Finally… she feels at peace.

A moment is all she allows, before she walks inside.

Her first stop is Erwin’s office, where Hange plugs a USB and starts her presentation before Erwin can even ask what she’s doing here. It takes absolutely nothing to convince him to give her position back, but it does take the whole eighty slides to make him at the very least consider her new proposition – a new segment where Hange will be observing local news. It’s not much, but it’s a start, and a promising one at that.

“But I still need you to take care of the advice column,” Erwin warns just after he surrenders to Hange’s enthusiasm that slowly starts to come back to her. “Mike is quite terrible at it.”

“Consider it done, chief!” Hange exclaims with a quick salute.

Erwin smiles and stands up to embrace her. “Then, Hange Zoe, welcome back to Sina’s Gossips.”

Hange is smiling so much, she worries that her face might break.

After Erwin, she runs straight into Nanaba’s arms. As they embrace, Nanaba laughs, then cries, then laughs again.

“God, Hange, I’m so happy you came back,” she says, wiping her tears. “I was this close to dying of boredom.”

“You don’t know boredom until you’ve worked in finance, Nana.”

They laugh in unison, and Hange’s heart is full of affection, when Nanaba wetly kisses her cheek.

Just before stopping at Moblit’s desk, Hange heads to break room and is lucky enough to find Mike eating a sandwich there.

Hange steals it with a delighted laughter, instantly taking a huge bite.

“Never thought I’d miss someone stealing my food,” he shakes his head with a big smile. “But here we are, I guess. It’s good to have you back, Hans.”

At first, Moblit doesn’t actually believe she is real. He rubs his eyes and squints at her, tentatively touches her arm, gives her another once-over, and whatever he noticed – perhaps, it’s her mismatched socks – convinces him that he isn’t seeing things.

And then gathers her in his arms.

“They made me work with Levi,” he whispers into her shoulders. “Please, don’t leave me again.”

Hange laughs – she does it a lot today, compensating for that month she spent feeling sorry for herself – and pats Moblit’s shoulder.

“Speaking of our favorite shorty, where is he?”

“In his office, probably brooding as always. Since you left, he’s been doing it more often. ”

Hange thanks Moblit with a quick peck on his cheek, and then she is moving again, now heading to her final destination.

The inside of Levi’s office is dark, and awfully quiet. The only sound is the click-clack of the keyboard and the only light comes from the computer screen. It further highlights the dark circle under his eyes and the overall paleness of his face.

Hange clears her throat to get his attention.

Levi’s eyes snap to her, widening almost immediately. There is an ocean of questions, ready to spill from his lips, but Hange doesn’t give him a chance to voice any of them.

“So there is this guy, he’s been sending letters to me since forever. He’s so sweet, a true romantic, and, well, his letters were kinda the highlight of my week,” she pauses to take a quick breath, and continues. “And I’ve been rooting so hard for him, you know? I wanted him to get together with that sweetheart of his, but I also felt like she was kinda oblivious, if you get what I’m talking about. Perhaps, not completely blind, but with a vision poor enough to miss what is right in front of her. Or, perhaps, she always has her head up in the clouds and the guy is a little short, so it’s easy to miss him? And-”

“So you’ve figured it out then?” Levi interrupts her. His calmness makes Hange more nervous.

“I have.”

“Only now?”

“Yes.”

“Hm,” a ghost of a smile dances around his narrow lips. “Completely blind then.”

Hange huffs, but she can’t resist a smile of her own. She takes a step towards his desk, hopping right on top of it.

“Just so we’re clear,” she touches his forearm, slowly moving her hand up to his shoulder. “You weren’t my reason to leave, Levi. And you aren’t the reason I’m staying. But,” she leans in, hoping that Levi is not as stupid and she is, and he gets the hint that she wants him to lean closer too. “You’re the reason I decided to come back. And for that, I can’t thank you enough.”

Hange closes her eyes, when Levi gently cups her cheek. With bated breath, she waits to feel his lips on hers.

Her lover boy doesn’t disappoint, and the gentle, loving kiss makes her head spin.

After a short moment of bliss, Levi pulls away, and Hange has to forcefully stop herself from chasing after his lips. He smirks at the dazed look in her eyes, and Hange just has to retaliate.

She strokes the skin of his cheek with the most tender of touches, shortening the distance between them with tantalizingly slow speed. Just when they’re less than a breath apart, Hange whispers, in a quiet, endlessly soft voice, “You know, Levi, wings of freedom is a really stupid username.”

Levi pushes her off the desk for that, but it’s still worth it. Even more so, since he catches her right in his arms.

And then her lover boy kisses her again. And again, and again, until her heart is so full of love that she can’t even find it in her to get angry at Mike, who snaps a picture of them and runs away to tell everyone the news.

“They’ll be gossiping about that for weeks,” Levi grumbles.

Hange laughs, smoothing the crease between his eyebrows. “Well, it’s Sina’s Gossips we’re working at. And didn’t you know? Love for the gossip is the requirement to get a position here.”

#basically yet another silly romcom from me :)#levihan

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lavenderwhore444 · 3 years

Note

UR OFFICIALLY MY FAVORITE BLOG FOR SUB SHIGARAKI AND I TOTALLY AGREE THAT SHIGARAKI DOES HAVE A MOMMY KINK✋😔 ANYWAYS CAN I PLEASE REQUEST SUB SHIGARAKI WITH A MOMMY KINK AND PEGGING PLEASE

🌸 Mommy fic for mothers’s day 😌 🌸

If you want to use interactive fics, it's easy and makes reading fics SO much better. First, you download the Google Chrome extension. You'll see it in the top right corner of your screen. Next, you enter your name in the first box. If you want to change something other than y/n, please click on the text that says “want to change something other than y/n?” here, you can change any word you want to a different word. When I talk about your quirk I will use y/q

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🌸 BESTIE I JUST POSTED ONE here she is BUT HERES ANOTHER AND SINCE IM BOLD AF AND REALLY FEELING THE MOMMY KINK LET ME HIT YOU WITH...

His lactation kink

Sometimes he's so far gone when he's sucking on your boobs that he gets worried/surprised/mad that there's no milk.

Like you're mommy....why no milk for Shiggy?

Let's be real as much as he may want kids in the future. He's not willing to get you prego in the middle of a war. But he will find the money to get those pills adoptive mothers use when they want to breastfeed their adopted baby. And you'd better take them. If you're not immune to his quirk...avoid him for a few days weeks. He will NOT be happy. I know that sounds mean, but he will dust you because you refused. Sorry, I'm right. He's a total brat.

And I mean, c’mon, if you've seen that manga panel, you know the man loves tits. Despite popular belief, he probably has a thing for tiny boobs so he can watch them get bigger once they fill up with milk because of the pills you will be taking. Like if you refuse, tell Dabi what color flowers you want at your funeral.

But this will be saved for another fic that's already cooking in my brain.

I'm gonna be honest, I was a little skimpy with the whole mommy thing last time, y’know, just testing the waters, but oh lord, get ready.

“Mommy, ” he whined, “Mommy, please. I need it so bad, ”

He was straddling your thigh, grinding and humping it desperately. He looked so sweet and pathetic, whining for mommy while desperately trying to get himself off. He was on the verge of tears now. He didn't want to cum in his pants. It's so embarrassing. Little did he know that's exactly what you wanted. Something about seeing him cry out and hide his face in your neck as he was unable to stop the cum spurting out of his dick and into his pants was so hot. He was so embarrassed. One time Shigaraki even cried.

The sadistic side of you wanted him in tears: red eyes and a runny nose. But you loved it when he crawled into your arms, still sniffling as you rubbed his back. You wanted to humiliate, break him down just to build him back up again. Worship his body and tell him how good he was. Whisper how loved and appreciated he was. He started to tug at your shirt, looking up with those puppy dog eyes you loved so, so much.

“Tell me what you want, honey, ” you said.

“I wanna see your boobs, mommy, ” he cried shamelessly.

You nearly laughed at how juvenile it sounded.

“Alright, honey, go ahead, ” you said.

He nearly ripped your shirt in half but restrained himself. He did, however, accidentally bend one of the hooks on your bra. When you were finally bare-chested, he whined desperately, looking up at you.

“Go ahead, ” you urged.

He dove right in, sucking and groping your tits. You moaned softly as he twisted your nipple. His hips were moving even faster, the spot of precum becoming more noticeable. He froze. You heard a strangled cry muffled by your tits as he came. And he did it. He started crying. Hiccuping and sniffling as he buried his face in shame. You stroked his hair.

“Dont cry, sweetie, ” you said, stroking his hair.

He looked up at you with teary eyes.

“Mommy, ” he whispered, another tear rolling down his cheek.

“Right here sweetie, ” you cooed, “mommy’s here, ”

The corners of his chapped lips turned up in a small smile. Mommy’s here. He nuzzled his face into the side of your neck, and you held him tight. You rocked him back and forth slowly, kissing the top of his head.

“Can you do me a favor Tomu?” you asked.

“Yes mommy, ” he nodded eagerly.

You slid out from under him and wiggled out of your pants, lying down on your back. His eyes lit up as he started at your clothed cunt.

“Dont be shy, ” you whispered, “come taste mommy’s pussy, ”

He nearly pounced to suck on your panties. You moaned, only encouraging him to pull off your panties. He almost suffocated himself, shoving his face into your cunt. He loved how you tasted. He loved mommy’s pussy. It was the best. It made him feel so good, and it made you feel good. That was the most important part. He wanted your cum. It didn't matter where, on his face, in his mouth, on his cock. He just wanted mommy’s cum.

He was moaning more than you were as he lapped at your cunt, sending sweet vibrations through you. Your legs wrapped around his head, and he held your thighs in place around his head. You smirked, squeezing his head tighter until he started to whine and struggle from the lack of air. He pulled away, gasping only to dive right back in, moaning again.

He was always a messy eater, caring more about tasting you than making you cum. However, today, he was doing an excellent job. He was pushing his tongue into you as far as it would go, desperately probing while his nose bumped your clit. To your surprise, you were cumming in no time, tugging his hair. You were crying his name as your legs quivered. He savored every drop, overstimulating you beyond coherent thinking.

“You did so good baby. You did so good for mommy, ” you panted, “let me make you feel good too Shiggy. What do you need, baby?”

“C-can you get the...the special toy we got, mommy?” he whispered.

“Of course, baby, ” you said.

The toy in question was a vibrating dildo attached to your strap-on. He was so excited when he picked it out.

“Look, mommy, it vibrates, ” he said, tugging on your sleeve.

You had bought it without a second thought—anything for him. The toy sat in the closet with a bottle of lube and a remote for the vibrating portion. You moved between his legs and applied lube to your fingers before slipping them in. He was used to the size of your fingers by now but prepping him was still very important. You scissored your fingers to stretch him further. Much to his delight, you began to hit his favorite spot as his sweet moans echoed through the room.

When you pulled your fingers out he whined softly.

“Mommy, please put your fingers back, ” he begged.

“Dont worry, baby. You're gonna feel so so good but you need to be patient, ” you said.

You lined up the toy and sunk in slowly. Tomura let out a long, loud moan that lasted until you were all the way inside of him. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his mouth was open. You waited until his breathing returned to its regular pace before starting to thrust slowly. His eyes rolled back, and a happy sigh left his lips as he met your slow thrusts. As you sped up, he began to pant and whimper, wiggling around to try and find his prostate. When you did find it he nearly screeched.

“M-mommy, ” he moaned, “r-right there...thank you mommy feels so, ugh, so good, ”

You grabbed the remote and pressed the button for the lowest setting. The soft buzzing sound was barely audible over the slapping of skin and squelching as you sunk into him, and of course, Tomura’s whimpers and moans. You could feel it buzzing against your clit as it the strap on rubbed against you. You turned up the intensity and started to chase the vibrating sensation. Meanwhile, Tomura was completely losing it. He was shaking and moaning as you pounded into him relentlessly. He nearly screamed when the vibrator turned up to it's highest setting.

You stopped for a moment deep inside of him and ground against the toy, moving it around in him. It felt so so good, just as good as your favorite vibrator. You were already getting close not only from the vibrations but from Tomura’s slutty moans and whimpers. Crying out for mommy to keep fucking him. So you obliged, setting a pace that had him crying from pleasure. You were getting close. All the pleasure started to focus on your clit until it burst; the little nerve sent waves of mind-blowing pleasure through your whole body.

“Tomura, ” you cried, “fuck I'm cumming, ”

He was right on the edge. The spot you stopped had the vibrating head right up against his prostate. He wiggled a little, rubbing himself on the toy until you decided to keep thrusting into him. His whole body shook as he coated himself in cum.

“Mommy, ” he cried over and over.

You held him tight through his climax and pulled out slowly. With the toy discarded and the mess cleaned up, you moved a mat of sweaty hair out of the sleeping boy’s face. You kissed his forehead and watched as his mouth found its way to your tits. Even in his sleep, he was still a little pervert.

#tomura smut #tenko smut #tomura x reader #mha tomura #tomura imagine #shigaraki tenko #tomura shiragaki #tomurashigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki smut #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #smut #mha smut

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sloppythots-com · 4 years

Text

favorite girl

a/n: i actually kinda like this, even if its mostly an aoc x reader fic-

word count: 912

warnings: fluff, cringe, bad pickup lines, unedited,

women. they were so amazing and talented, never once had they failed to amaze you - including aoc. yes, you liked men too but that’s not important right now. what was important was trying to get aoc to break up with her boyfriend, riley whatever. and yes, you know you should never idolize politicians and such, but she was just too cute - you couldn’t help it. hearing her cute little laugh when you playfully flirted with her made your insides all giddy. and not to forget her replies to some of the pick-up lines, they just made you want to melt. if you were honest she was making the whole lobby melt with her cuteness, the chat too.

while you were waiting for new people to join, you moved your character next to aoc’s and tried to sweep her off her feet. “aoc, you know, when i was younger….” you trailed and sighed, waiting for her response.

“oh? what is it y/n?” she asked, voice filled with concern. cute, she was genuinely worried. you felt kind of bad for making her worry, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

“my parents, they,” you paused for a dramatic effect and sighed once more, “they told me disney land was the happiest place on earth… they clearly were never in a discord call with you…”

she laughed, shaking her head. chat was flying by, some calling you out for flirting with a politician and how bad it was but you didn’t care. “that was super cheesy, but i loved it!” she exclaimed, laughing even harder.

you smiled, happy could make her laugh. she was so sweet and full of life, you were more than glad you even got to breathe the same air as her. not only was she extremely intelligent, but she also had the looks of a goddess, how could you possibly control yourself? you were sure work was extremely taxing on her being, mentally and physically and you were glad you could at least make her laugh in tough times. a discord notification interrupted your thoughts, someone had joined the call.

“aoc meet corpse, corpse meet aoc!” poki said, excitement evident in her voice.

“oh, hi aoc, y/n” corpse said, voice kind of quiet. he was probably nervous, i mean who wouldn’t be - you were playing with a fucking polititican.

“hello, corpse!” aoc replied, very clearly smiling as she spoke. you couldn’t blame her, corpses voice could make anyone smile.

“heya corpsie,” you paused and turned your attention back to aoc, mimicking a kiss noise in your mic as your googles touched, “for my favorite girl!” chat, once again, exploded. the others in the call all laughed, except for your favorite dead body - how only let out an awkward huff, not that you noticed or cared.

after a couple more jokes and pick-up lines, the game started. you were, like always, a crewmate. you decided to let aoc have some space and ran off to finish your tasks, starting in navigation. you did your card swipe and began making your way to electrical, passing sean on your way there. as you finished your download, a body was reported.

“it was in reactor,” toast made a little hmm noise and continued, “where was everyone?” everyone said where they were, or described it to the best of their abilities.

“i think sean is a little sus, only because i saw him walk away from that direction…” you trailed off, waiting to see if anyone cleared him or had suspicions.

“i, i think it’s aoc,” corpse said, slightly stuttering - poor baby was probably sweating in anxiety.

“what! what makes you say that, corpse?” aoc replied, clearly shocked at the sudden accusation.

you smiled to the camera, a perfect opportunity for a certain pick up line, “corpse! i agree completely!”

“i didn’t do anything,” aoc mumbled, obviously confused.

“aoc...my dear beloved...vented!” you paused to hear the shocked gasps from the others, “into my heart!”

the call was silent for a moment as everyone processed what you said, but was quickly filled with laughter from all your friends. aoc let out a little giggle, “you guys had me worried!”

“aoc’s not denying that she vented….speedrun?” corpse asked, voice soft as he finished talking.

“hey- wait ! i don’t even know how to vent-” the suspect tried to defend herself, but it was drowned out by corpse chanting ‘speedrun’.

“corpse you seemed so nervous and polite when you first aoc, why are you meme voting her out your first game together?” sean asked, a teasing tone in his voice.

corpse didn’t reply, too distracted with chanting ‘speedrun’. aoc was panicking, she had no idea what was happening.

sean made a little ‘ohh’ sound, finally realizing what was happening, “corpse, are you upset that y/n found a new favorite person?”

toast spoke up, “that explains his unusual behavior, normally y/n is using her terrible pick up lines on him so maybe, just maybe, he’s jealous.”

poki slapped her hand over her mouth dramatically, “it’s all coming together!”

“awww, corpsie! is that why you want to vote out my pretty girl aoc?” maybe teasing him wasn’t the best decision, but it was the funniest.

he stopped chanting, and stayed quiet for a few seconds. “no…” he trailed off, voice barely a whisper.

“corpse, my beautiful boy,” you laughed and shook your head, smiling so much it hurt, “you’ll always be my favorite boy.”

taglist: @susceptible-but-siriusexual @badroseee @janndishsstuff

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cherrybracelets · 4 years

Text

as the world caves in

masterlist | request

spencer reid x bau agent!reader

song inspo: as the world caves in - matt maltese (i highly recommend listening to this before or during reading to fully understand the fic)

summary: you’ve worked in the bau for almost a year now, but this is your toughest case to date. when the unsub puts you and spencer in a near death situation, the complex feeling of mortality causes you to bear your souls to one another

word count: 6k | warnings: no smut but it is typical criminal minds violence, plot centers around reader being held hostage by an unsub so there is tying up, reader getting hurt, etc. pls be cautious when reading if that makes you uncomfortable

Your head was pounding, the sound of phones ringing and private chatter ringing through your ears. You shakily poured a cup of coffee, closing your eyes momentarily as you tried to wake yourself up. You glanced at the clock, seeing that it was barely five in the morning. You yawned obnoxiously, assuming no one was around you. But when you heard a quiet snicker from behind, you knew immediately you were not alone. You spun around quickly to see Emily, waving as she set her bag down on her desk.

“Pretty early to be called in. Must be important,” she concurred, pouring herself a cup of stale FBI coffee as well.

“Do you ever get used to it?” You groaned, taking a long swig of the cheap coffee. You had doused it with milk and sugar to make it consumable, but it still left a nasty taste in your mouth with each sip. You knew you wouldn’t make it without caffeine, though, so you stomached it down.

“I’ve been here… five years, now? I can assure you it doesn't get easier,” she laughed. You had missed her laugh, when she was gone. She had become a wonderful mentor to you, and when you thought you lost her, you were shattered. Having her back has been enough to get you through the tough cases, which seemed to be escalating with each one.

“You know, next week is my one year anniversary with the BAU,” you smiled, excited of your first milestone with the team. The BAU was an exceptionally hard job, and many people didn’t make it as long as you had. It was something to be proud of.

“You’re kidding! Congratulations, (Y/N).”

“Thank you!”

You saw Hotch and Derek walk in out of the corner of your eye, deep in conversation. You were sure it was an important one, the look on Hotch’s face confirming your suspicions. They walked straight to the conference room, not even looking up to notice you and Emily. You gave Emily a look, and you were both thinking the same thing. ‘We better get our asses in there.’

You followed Emily into the room, Garcia getting the case ready to present. The rest of the team filtered in over the next few minutes, riddled with dark circles, cups of coffee and worry. There wasn’t much small talk made, everyone too out of it to pretend to talk about what they did last weekend.

“Good morning everyone, thanks for coming in so early,” Hotch addressed, standing up as he welcomed everyone. “We’ve got a bit of a weird case, today. Garcia, why don’t you go ahead and present.”

“Okay, my loves. This is a bit of a weird one, so strap in to keep up with me. A 21 year old female, Emily Davies, was abducted yesterday morning from the parking lot in her apartment complex. Now, the lot did have security cameras, but the unsub cut the internet cable and they can’t download the video until the can fix the wire.”’

“He’s smart, probably knew it would slow us down. And shows he has knowledge in wiring and electrics.” Derek added.

“Exactly. The police believe we should have the footage by the time we land. Now here’s where it gets weird. Two hours after she was abducted, there was a shooting at a gas station about 30 miles outside of the city, off I75. Three dead, including the worker. No cameras there, unfortunately.”

“How do we know it’s the unsub?” You questioned, failing to see the connection between the two crimes.

“Ah, my darling, if there wasn’t a connection we wouldn’t be called in. Our unsub left a note at this crime scene. It read, ‘They were going to take her. I couldn’t let them take her. She is mine, we are in love. Please, leave us be.’” Garcia then pulled up photos of the crime scene and the note on the monitor.

“These are clean shots, straight to the head, execution style,” Reid said, studying the photos on the screen.

“He knows how to use a gun, that’s for sure.” Rossi added.

“The 911 call was made by a customer who walked in to see the carnage about a half hour after the unsub left. They believe he is continuing to drive North, but we currently have no idea what him or his car look like.”

“If he didn’t kill again, he most likely stopped somewhere. He may be lowing low in a roadside motel to keep us off his trail,” Reid said.

“The gas station seemed unplanned. The abduction was thorough, leaving no evidence. But this scene is sloppy, and rushed. They must’ve seen Emily and panicked, and he shot em. This was never part of the plan, and now he’s freaking out.”

“That’s a good point, Emily’s face is all over the news now. He’d need a place to rest for a bit until he can come up with the rest of his plan. How exactly did people discover that Emily was missing?” You asked, curious about the rest of the unsubs plan.

“Well, it was actually kind of a fluke, but very helpful for us. Her boyfriend, Michael Adams, discovered she was gone when he came home early from work. He wasn’t supposed to be home for another six hours, but something had happened and they sent him home. He called 911 when he realized her phone, keys, and bag were all at home but she was nowhere to be found. They aren’t sure exactly what time she went missing, but at that point Michael had only been gone for two hours.”

“This guy had to have been stalking her. He knew to take her on a day she’d be alone for hours, he knew to cut the wires for the security cameras… this was meticulously planned,” Derek responded.

“Except what he didn’t plan for was the boyfriend getting home early, and Emily’s face plastered everywhere. He thought he’d have more time to get away,” JJ added.

“If he truly doesn’t want to be separated from her, it’s only a matter of time before he kills again. Anybody that gets in their way will die, if we don’t stop him. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch instructed, dismissing you all as you separated to prepare for another trip.

You lingered in the conference room for a moment, staring at the photos on the monitor. An uncomfortable feeling floated through you, chills up your spine as you stared at the crime scene. It was far tamer than most things you’d seen during your time here, but something about it made you uneasy. Spencer had noticed you staying back, and he stayed in the room as well. Once everyone cleared out, he cleared his throat to let you know he was there. You turned to him, not sure if you should tell him how you felt or not. Was it weak to say you were nervous?

“You okay?” He asked calmly, his eyes avoiding yours as he waited for your answer.

“I… just have a bad feeling about this case. Does that ever happen to you?”

“Mmm, yes.” He chuckled slightly, running a hand through his hair. “And usually, I’m right.”

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The plane landed in Cincinnati only a few hours later, cars awaiting to take you to the police station upon arrival. You were grateful to hear that they were able to pull the security footage from the lot Emily was abducted, and it was ready to be viewed when you arrived at the station.

You got in a car with Derek and Spencer, a duo that you usually tried to avoid. Derek always joked with you and Spencer that the two of you had a crush on each other. Although it was slightly true on your part, and your heart did race every time Spencer walked into a room, it was embarrassing to see Spencer so confidently deny any feelings for you.

But, Hotch sent the three of you to the station, instructing you to study the security tapes. The rest of them were going to talk to the boyfriend and visit the crime scene. You sat awkwardly in the back seat, trying to keep quiet, not wanting to say anything that would entice Derek.

“Judging by the way he worded this note, our unsub is most definitely in love with Emily. Do you think she knew him?” Spencer turned to you, and then to Derek, waiting for someone to respond.

“It’s impossible to say. There was no sign of forced entry in the apartment.” Derek responded.

“They think she was taking her trash out when she was abducted. Explains why she left all of her things inside, and the door was unlocked,” you added, wanting to be a part of the conversation. Although it had been almost a year, you still felt like you had to constantly prove yourself when you were with them.

“Even if she knew him, you wouldn’t get in someone's car without your phone, or wallet. He had to have had a weapon,” Derek said.

“The gun he used to kill everyone in the gas station, probably,” Spencer muttered. You all stayed silent for the rest of the drive, your brain taking a quiet moment to think through the details of the case.

The police station wasn’t too far from the airport, and you got there pretty quickly. You always felt so small in the police stations, usually dealing with male detectives or sheriffs or cops. You felt like you’d drown in testosterone, and everyone would be so busy in a dick measuring contest that they couldn’t save you. As you walked into the station, you were greeted by yet again another male detective who reeked of desperation and Viagra.

“Hi, I’m Detective Elijah Guthrie. Thank you so much for coming.” He shook all of your hands, welcoming you into his station.

“Where do you have the security tapes set up?” Reid asked quickly, realizing the urgency of this case, and that we didn't have time for small talk.

“Conference room. Everything you said you needed is set up there, as well.”

“Awesome, we should go get started, then,” Derek smiled, leading the three of you into the room.

You all sat down and watched the tapes, replaying them over and over to catch every detail that you could. Luckily, the unsub cut the wires after he took the girl. It seemed sloppy, on his end. He had to know eventually that we’d get the footage. But he was smart enough to make sure his face was nowhere in view. Although, his car was still in view, and you were able to pull a plate number.

“Garcia, baby girl, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear. What can I do for you, my sweets?”

“Run a plate for us. Ohio plates, number EUE 8561.”

“Of course, give me uno momento....” You could hear the sound of Garcia typing away, finding the mysterious man. In all honesty, you weren’t sure if any of these cases would get solved without her.

“Alright, I got your man. 24 year old Jacob Lane.” “Are we sure our unsub didn’t just steal this guy’s car?”

“Good point, Garcia check to see if Jacob has any connection to Emily.”

“Gotcha… oh, man. Looks like he grew up in the same town that she did.”

“Well, that’s suspicious,” Derek responded, raising his eyebrows. “Alright, thanks baby. Try and dig up some more on this guy.” He hung up the phone, staring at the paused video in front of him.

“(Y/N), you call Hotch and give him the update. There’s a good chance this guy’s our unsub. Reid, call JJ and have her ask the boyfriend if they knew this guy.” You and Reid both looked at each other and nodded, standing up and walking into the hallway to complete your tasks. You dialed Hotch’s number swiftly, listening to the ringing as you awaited him to answer.

“Hotchner,” he answered, sternly.

“Hey, it’s me. I think we got our guy- Jacob Lane. The car that Emily got into was registered to him, and he grew up in the same town as her. Garcia is digging up some more info, and Reid is on the phone with JJ, gonna see what we can get from the boyfriend.”

“Alright, well we’ve just been informed there was another shooting. This time at a motel not too far from the gas station. We’re gonna head there, now.”

“How many, this time?” You asked, dreading the answer.

“Six. Doesn’t look like anybody made it out.”

You stayed silent, your head spinning as you thought of six more dead bodies, six more grieving families.

“Thanks, Hotch.” You hung up your phone, walking back towards Reid and Derek.

“Detective Guthrie just told me there’s been another shooting,” Derek said to you, unaware if you had been informed.

“Yeah, Hotch just told me. We have to get this guy before he does this again.”

“Unfortunately, most cases with spree killers like this end in hostage situations, and eventually suicide by cop. Spree killers' motivations are usually very similar.” Reid stated, his voice emotionless as he rattled off his facts. He was obviously right, and you felt sick as you thought of standing face to face with this man,

“I’m gonna go talk to Emily’s parents, see if they knew anything about Jacob. You guys stay in here and go over everything we have so far, see if we missed anything.”

“Alright. Thanks, Derek.”

He left the room quietly, walking out to find the family. You started looking over the video again, straining your eyes to see if you could make out any overlooked details. But it was the same every time, there was nothing new to report. You were angry, not feeling any closer to catching this guy.

“What do you make of this?” You asked Spencer, hoping his genius brain would come up with an explanation yours couldn’t.

“He loves a girl, tries to take her away with him, gets caught and panics, starts killing anybody that calls him out. It’s pretty straight forward. Although, the way he’s killing them is unique. The actual crime seems rushed and panicked, but the killings themselves and calm and exact. One shot, the same place. It’s too… perfect.”

“He’s killed before,” you concluded, feeling your heart racing as you thought of more victims at the hand of Jacob.

“Yes, but most likely in the military. These are execution style deaths. This M.O. is very specific to military personnel.”

“And you would be correct, boy genius,” Garcia shouted through the speaker on the desk, her voice scaring you slightly. “Jacob Lane was in the Air Force. He was deployed once to Iraq, he got back about six months and was recently relocated to Cincinnati.”

“So something must’ve happened between Emily and Jacob in the past, and when he moved back and saw her again, it must’ve been the trigger. Topped with PTSD, he could’ve easily snapped.”

“What exactly did he do in Iraq?”

“Ah, that is classified information, according to the US government. But no worries, nothing is too classified for me. Our buddy Jacob executed war criminals during his time overseas.”

“Well, that explains the M.O.,” you chuckled, running a hand through your hair, shaking your head in disgust.

“Other than that, he had a relatively normal life. Average in school, normal family. He bounced around colleges a bit before deciding to enlist, but there’s no red flags.”

“Could you find any other link between him and Emily?”

“Well, that’s the other thing. Jacob deleted all of his social media accounts when he got back from Iraq. Twitter, Instagram… everything, gone. But, just because he deleted it does not mean the record doesn’t exist somewhere. I am currently trying to unlock all of his accounts and see if I can find anything, but it’ll take a bit.”

“Alright, Garcia, call us if you get anything. Thank you,” you replied, disconnecting the call. Spencer had stepped away for a moment, answering his phone.

“If this guy had a perfectly normal life, why is he doing this?” You asked, your nails digging into your palms in frustration.

“The military… doing what he did… it could mess a lot of normal people up. Plus, there may be more to the story than we know.”

“Yeah, there is. Listen to this,” Spencer said, walking into the room and putting his phone on speaker.

“Hey, it’s me,” JJ said, her voice flowing softly through the phone. “So we talked to the boyfriend, and there is a long history between Emily and Jacob. They met when she was 18, and they were both dating different people. They had apparently had an affair of sorts, though, leading Jacob to break up with his girlfriend for her. But apparently Emily decided to stay with her boyfriend and ditch Jacob. That’s when he joined the military. Before he left for training camp, Emily’s boyfriend committed suicide. Blamed Emily and Jacob for ruining his life.”

“Jesus…” you muttered under her breath.

“Well, it gets more interesting. Emily picked up and moved to Florida, after that, transferring to a college down there. She was apparently trying to start over. Her and Jacob didn’t talk for two years, but he was relocated to the same town she was in, and they met up again. They started dating, and that’s when he got deployed. About a month after he left, Emily claimed he started acting really weird, to the point where it was scaring her. She broke up with him and blocked him on all social media.”

“The boyfriend knew all of this?”

“She told him because apparently she was afraid of Jacob. She told her boyfriend that if something ever happened to her, she was sure it was Jacob.”

“Why wouldn’t he have mentioned something sooner?”

“He didn’t think it was a big deal. Plus, until two weeks ago, he was living in Florida.”

“Exactly. And he got moved here, found out Emily was here and had a boyfriend, and that was probably the trigger.”

“What I don’t understand is how Emily just… dropped him? She was clearly terrified of him, what could he have possibly done to give her that reaction?”

“He could have told her what he was doing down there. That job is not for someone with a soft heart. She probably couldn’t stomach the thought of being with a man who…” You couldn’t finish your sentence, your mouth choking up your words as they tried to come up.

“We need to make a statement to the press. The public needs to know who to look for.”

“I’ll call the media and put together a press conference. I’ll see you guys soon.” JJ hung up, and Spencer put his phone away. The three of you stayed silent for a moment, staring at each other in awe as your minds wrapped around the information. Part of you felt bad for him. He joined the military to get away, and they stuck him in a job that ruined his humanity. And the girl you love turns away from you when you need her most…

“The hardest part of the job is not to feel bad for the unsubs,” you laughed, your mouth dry and your forehead sweating as you felt more and more anxious about the future of this case.

“It’s refreshing, actually. To see someone else with enough empathy to feel for someone who has done so many bad things. It’s a sign of a beautiful heart,” Spencer said, his eyes meeting yours as he spoke. You smiled at him, redness creeping up your cheeks as you felt your nerves tingling at his words.

“Oh, I’m sure Spencer thinks about your beautiful heart all the time, (Y/N),” Derek teased, causing Spencer to blush as well, and quickly dart his eyes away from you.

“No… c’mon Derek. Why do you have to turn everything into this? Can’t I just be nice to her!” Spencer groaned, pushing Derek slightly on the arm in frustration.

“We’ve got a problem,” Det. Guthrie yelled, bursting through the door of the conference room and, thankfully, interrupting Derek.

“What’s wrong?”

“Emily escaped. She just walked into the police station.”

“How is that a problem?”

“Because Jacob just shot up another place. A diner, this time. We just got the call a minute ago. We’re only a few minutes away. He must’ve come back to the city after Emily got away.”

“(Y/N), you and Reid go to the crime scene. I’m going to stay here and talk to Emily.”

“Alright, we’ll leave now, call us if you need anything.”

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The drive was quick, helped greatly by the use of your sirens. You sped quickly to the diner, you and Reid the first to arrive on the scene. The witness who had called it in greeted you with sobs, not having time to console her as the two of you went quickly inside. The scene was similar to the previous ones, eight bodies, all shot directly in the center of the head. You noticed something wrong, pretty quickly.

“Reid…” you whispered, staring quietly at a table next to you.

“What’s up?”

“Do you see that?” You pointed helplessly to a small plate accompanied with an ever smaller cup, stars and smiley faces printed onto it.

“That’s a kids meal.”

“There’s not a kid in here, Reid.” You looked at him nervously, your whole body burning as you imagined the child that Jacob took.

“There’s a note here, (Y/N)...” Reid handed a crumpled napkin with a sloppy note written across it.

“Is it an address?”

“It’s definitely the unsubs handwriting. I studied the previous note, there’s no doubt he wrote this.”

“This address is only a few minutes away…”

“We need to leave, now. I’ll call Hotch and tell him to send backup.” Reid ran out of the diner and to the car, and you followed behind quickly. Other cops were now pulling in to the crime scene, and you let them know you were leaving but to stay with the bodies and take care of calling the families. You still weren’t sure who in there had a kid, and you wanted to notify the rest of the family if you could.

You and Spencer called Hotch in the car, letting him know where you were headed. He told you him and Rossi would be there in twenty minutes or so. Spencer was swerving in and out of traffic, trying to get to the location the unsub left for you. When you finally arrived, you were surprised to find a secluded barn near a small patch of land. You pulled up and got out of the car, arming yourselves as you got near the building.

“We should wait for backup, Reid… this could be a trap…” you said with caution, a wave of nerves flooding you as you stood in front of the building.

“He could have a little kid in there, (Y/L/N)... we have to go in.”

“Spencer, you know that’s not the right protocol.”

“When has protocol ever done us any good?”

Spencer starting walking towards the door, and you couldn’t bear to see him go in alone. You followed reluctantly, walking through the open door. As soon as you walked through the doors, you saw him. The face in the photos was finally right in front of you, holding a small item in his hands. You couldn’t make out what it was, you were too focused on the boy, who was tied to a chair next to him.

“Hello, agents. Thank you for joining me,” Jacob said, smiling devilishly at the two of you.

“You need to let the boy go, Jacob,” you instructed, your voice remain quiet and calm and your mind spun in circles.

“That’s not how this is going to go. Do you know what this is?” He waved the device in his hands, smiling down proudly at it. You knew then exactly what he was holding in his hands.

“It’s a bomb…”

“Exactly. And if I don’t get exactly what I want, it’s going to detonate. Are we clear?” He looked at you specifically, as if he was nervous you would be the one to try and defy him.

“Yes,” Spencer answered for you, looking upset as he realized you were right. This was a trap, one that the two of you walked so easily into.

“Put your weapons down, first,” he instructed, pointing at your guns. The two of you placed them down on the ground slowly, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Wonderful. Now, I want you to call your boss and tell him I would like to speak with him.”

You nodded in agreeal, slowly pulling out your phone. You dialed Hotch’s number, your hands shaking as you pressed the buttons. Your heart felt as if it was going to explode, bringing the phone to your ear as you listened to it ring.

“We’re almost there, what’s going on?” His voice made you feel safe, calm, knowing he would get you out of there safely. He had to get you out. You couldn’t die… not here… not now.

“Hotch, we’re here with Jacob, and he’d like to talk to you,” you said shakily, your voice trembling as you got the words out.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

You handed Jacob the phone, which he ripped out of your hand and placed to his own ear.

“Listen carefully. I want her back. I want a plane out of here for both of us, or I blow the kid and your two agents up? Is that understood?” You strained hard to see if you could hear Hotch’s voice, but you couldn’t make anything out. You looked over to Spencer, who was staring helplessly at the ground.

You didn’t bother listening to the rest of Jacob’s conversation with Hotch, not wanting to hear his voice anymore. It was you sick to think about him. When he finally finished, he threw the phone back at you. He walked up to you, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your face back to look at him.

“It would be a shame to kill you… You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, smiling down at you. He pulled hard on your hair, knocking you to the ground with all of his force. You slammed onto the dirt hard, feeling your body jolt as you landed. You felt pain shoot through your body, screaming loudly.

“Don’t touch her again!” Spencer yelled, running towards him violently. Jacob pulled a gun and pointed it at his head, which made him stop in his tracks.

“Don’t take another step. Since you want to be her knight in shining armor so bad, why don’t you go ahead and tie her up,” Jacob instructed, pointing the gun at a pile of rope in the corner. Spencer walked slowly over to it, grabbing the rope and tying your hands behind your back. As he tightened the knot, he whispered to you quietly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words bouncing back and forth in your head as Jacob pushed you to the ground and continued to tie up Spencer. After he finished, he sat Spencer next to you. He had put the two of you in the corner, out of sight and mind. You were aggravating Jacob, you could tell. If he could just tie you up and place you in the corner, he wouldn’t have anything to throw him off.

“Are you okay?” Spencer whispered, looking concerned at your now bruising body.

“A little sore, but I’ll be fine. What are we gonna do here, Spence?”

“The team will get us out, okay. I promise.”

You watched Jacob on the other side of the room, pacing slowly as he awaited another call that would give him his demands. You started to hear the sound of sirens pull up, feeling slightly relieved knowing they were right outside those walls. The sound of helicopters overhead was prominent, and you noticed Jacob wincing as it got louder.

“Does the sound of helicopters bother you?” You shouted to him, trying to get his attention away from the boy.

“Shut up! Do I need to tape your mouth shut, too?” He was aggravated, waving his gun around and placing a hand on his head.

“My dad was in the Army… helicopters reminded him of his time overseas. He’d have a panic attack every time he heard one…” You said, trying to relate to him. If you couldn’t use force to bring him down, maybe you could sympathize with him.

“It’s just so loud…” he winced, closing his eyes as if all of his senses were betraying him.

“Let me talk to my boss, if he knew how much they hurt you I bet he’d call them off…”

Jacob considered your proposal for a moment, the idea of the pain going away calling to him. But he was smart, and realized quickly what was going on.

“Are you trying to trick me? Do you think you can outsmart me? I have been ahead of you this entire time.”

“Except you didn’t plan on Emily’s boyfriend coming home early, and you didn’t plan on her escaping, did you? None of this was a part of the plan.” Spencer looked at him desperately, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up next to him and feel him holding you. If you were to die here, today, it would be nice to die in the arms of someone you cared about. You desperately craved his touch, especially now. Who knows if this would be your last chance to experience him?

“All I want is for me and Emily to be together, okay? Don’t you get that? Have you ever been in love?”

“I have… and I know how much you love Emily. But if you kill us, you’ll be killing yourself, too. And then Emily will never get to hear how you really feel. Because that’s what all of this is about, right? You just want her to know how you feel?”

“I told her everything. I bore everything to her and she walked away. It… hurt.” Jacob was crying, tears crawling down his face as he shook the gun in his hand.

“I don’t want to die without telling the girl I love how I feel. I know you don’t, either, Jacob. We can all walk out of here and you can see her again.” Spencer looked at you, his eyes pleading for your attention as he spoke.

“I don’t want to get locked up, I can’t live like that…” Jacob continued to cry, and you desperately wanted to give him a hug. He was evil, and you despised him, but he was broken and alone and needed a hug.

“No, no. I am not letting you talk me into this… you both shut up and leave me alone!” He yelled, running away from you and back to the young boy. You let out a long sigh, feeling your own tears starting to form. You really thought you might’ve had him this time. But he was too smart, and he wouldn’t fall for any of your tricks.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I should be able to save you, and I can’t…” Spencer was pale, his forehead sweating as he leaned against the wall.

“Spencer, don’t apologize. It is nobody's job to take care of me, except myself.”

“I don’t want to die in here without telling you how I feel, (Y/N).”

“What are you talking about, Spence?”

“I am crazy about you. I have been in love with you for months. And every time I think I might want to say something, Derek makes some stupid joke and you get awkward and I realize if I say anything I’d risk our friendship but I’m sorry, I can’t die here with you and not tell you I’m in love with you.”

“Spencer…” was the only thing you managed to get out. You opened your mouth to try to say more, but the sound of your cell phone ringing stopped you. Jacob ran quickly to the phone, picking it up and placing it on speaker. He looked at you to make sure you were listening. He wanted you to know your entire lives depended on whatever happened on this one phone call.

“Jacob?” A small female voice came on the line, one that you had not recognized. “Jacob, it’s me, it’s Emily.”

“Emily!” He cried, placing a hand over his heart as he heard her voice.

“Jacob, I am right outside for you. I promise we can walk away together if you just leave your weapons inside and come out.” You could hear the pain in her voice and she said those words, knowing how hard it must’ve been for her to do this. But she was the only thing that could end this, that could save four lives. She didn’t have a choice.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? You ran away from me, Emily!” Jacob cried into the phone, his voice shaky and his face swollen from tears.

“I have always loved you, Jacob. I have told you everything. You have to believe me. I’m right on the other side of the door. Put down the weapons and show them you’re unarmed, and we can walk away together.”

You watched him closely, patiently waiting for his response. You had never been a religious person, but you prayed to whoever was listening that you could walk away from this.

“Spencer… if we don’t make it out, I want you to know I love you, too. And if we do get out of here, please take me far away from here,” you cried, leaning your head on his shoulder and begging the universe for your life. He kissed the top your head, a small comfort that calmed you down. You watched Jacob slowly look over at the two of you, staying as close as you could, savoring love even in the last moments of your life.

You think it was that moment, him seeing two people in love and remembering what it felt like, that caused him to walk out. He slowly set the gun down, and another small device that you believed was the detonator. He walked through the doors, the sound of a bullet crunching through the air immediately as he stepped outside. You heard the screams of a girl, who was probably dealing with love and loss and pain all in one second, watching the man she loved and feared dying in front of her own eyes.

SWAT and the Bomb Squad came in shortly after, JJ and Derek running in to find the two of you. Emily and Rossi took care of the child as the other two untied you. They walked you outside, JJ pulling you far from Spencer and into an ambulance.

“JJ, I promise I’m fine, but I really need to go see Spencer…” You tried to stand up and walk past her, but you were a little dizzy and she pushed you back down pretty quickly. You saw Spencer arguing with Derek as well, probably for the same reason you were trying to push through JJ.

“Can I take your blood pressure, Agent?” The paramedic said, holding up an arm band and trying to wrap it around you. You angrily refused, finally getting on your feet and walking away from JJ. She realized it wasn’t worth chasing you down, that you would get checked out when you were good and ready.

You ran towards Spencer, who was still being blocked by Derek. You pushed passed cops and paramedics and everything in between, your eyes only on the man you loved. The man who loved you. When you finally got to him, he wrapped his arms around you in relief. He held you for a moment, before letting go and kissing you. It was a kiss full of life, celebrating existence and love.

“Hah, friendly my ass…” Derek whispered, rolling his eyes as he walked away from the two of you.

“Take me away from here, Spencer Reid.”

“Wherever you wanna go.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid one shot #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg #mgg x reader

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“you get me” (famous!y/n x harry)

Famous!y/n x Harry Styles

First Harry fic so please be kind, but feedback is SUPER appreciated

Initially inspired by the picture of Harry leaving the Gucci store with 15 bags but barely has anything to do with that lol

Definitely thought of Ellen for the interview idk why tho - also I struggle with writing Harry’s dialogue because I really want to get it right, but hopefully the more practice I get, the better/more natural it will sound. ALSO i have like no music or music industry background lol. Somewhat proofread, but its 2:30 am so it could be shit

Fluff!

Warnings: maybe some angst over being famous per say, past loneliness

Word Count: 3.7k literally howwww, i’m going to do a pt. 2 though because it was kind of a long set up and feelingsssss

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Interviewer: Please, welcome our next guest, a woman who’s sure to have her name written up beside the music greats someday, Ms. Y/N L/N!

You can’t contain the grin that spreads to your face as you carry yourself out onto the stage and see the audience cheering for you. It was your third big interview since your first album had been released and you’d seen your fame skyrocket over night. This being the third one this week meant you’d gotten comfortable getting asked questions, but you also weren’t bored of it yet. It was exhilarating being the center of attention, especially for something that had been your life’s work up until this point. You always had to fight for whatever you got and the recognition you were starting to have was reassurance that you hadn’t been a fool to risk a safe and certain life for your dreams.

The interview begins as the rest had, a few pleasantries, how you were feeling, and then the introduction of the album. The host asked you what your inspiration was for some of the songs and the album name and cover. You loved to talk about the music, it was the whole reason you were there. The meaning, the sound, the name, it all meant so much to you and you talked about how music can be interpreted differently by everyone and even the shifts in someone’s mood can change a song’s meaning, but what it meant to you at the time of writing was always something specific. You practiced those answers in the mirror before the interviews because they were important to you and you didn’t want your words on your art to ever be misconstrued. The host then complimented your style and you were at the point where you thought your interview should be wrapping up when they asked you one more question, and it threw you for a loop.

Interviewer: So Y/N, we’ve been hearing some rumblings around, about you and another famous musician, Mr. Harry Styles. Anything going on there?

Your face heated up, you hadn’t been expecting a personal question about possible relationships. Nothing like this had been asked of you at your previous interviews. It’s about the music, the art, and who you were, it’s always about that and nothing more. To be honest, you were a bit annoyed the host had chosen to stray from those topics. You didn’t care for the celebrity side of being a famous musician, the lack of privacy, the prying eyes of media and the general public. They saw enough of you through your art, you bore your soul through music why did they want to peak into your heart as well?

Y/N: I don’t know if I’d rather be with Harry Styles or actually be Harry Styles. Like, he’s literally such an icon, I want to be able to walk out of a Gucci store after spending hours there with 15 bags full of my purchases and helpers to carry it all out c’mon… He’s also an amazing songwriter, musician, and performer, of course. Didn’t mean to sound superficial, but I’d also love to own even half of his closet.

You hadn’t really answered the question, but the audience laughed and the host obviously got the hint that you weren’t interested in fanning any flames of romance with Harry Styles or anyone else. For one, you didn’t even know the man, but you had always been a loving fan of his. You cited him as one of your role models when you were first starting to try and break into the music world. Second, if you did know him, that wouldn’t be an appropriate topic for your album press junket going on, even if it meant more publicity because of Harry’s big celebrity status. The host decided to qualify their original question with a final sentiment.

Interviewer: I totally feel the same way! I only ask because the outpouring of support you’ve received seems to be from similar groups who also follow Harry. Many have been comparing your sound to his solo career work.

Y/N: Ah...well that’s very kind of people to say. He’s definitely a big inspiration, his creativity and drive is incredible. I’d love to be as successful as him someday.

The interview ended. You and the host shook hands and you waved and sent kisses to the crowd before retreating backstage. You were exhausted, but happy. You hoped to avoid anymore stressful interview questions that didn’t truly revolve around music. Of course, life is never that simple.

One month later

You had done countless more interviews and talk shows as promo for your album and the buzz around it had continued to grow. Your fame continued to rise as well and that one question you had dodged at your third interview had come back around to bite you, naturally. Daily Mail’s dumb headline read: “Y/N can’t decide! Date Harry Styles or Steal His Closet?” The Sun was also running with your response and miscontruing it completely, something about how you were madly in love with Harry but jealous of his designer partnerships, you couldn’t even stomach reading the garbage. This was your worst nightmare. Not only was it taking away the focus from your album, but you were also sure this dumb gossip had reached the very set of ears that the gossip was allegedly also about.

You had signed with Columbia Records for your first album, the same record label as Harry Styles, so managers had been in contact with one another about the whole fiasco trying to get the actual truth - which was that the two of you didn’t even know each other and there were no problems whatsoever. Your manager also brought along the good news that Harry had actually listened to your album and loved it, “He said ‘Congratulations’ by the way, loved the sound. Said he’d heard you were very music focused and be open to do some mentoring on songwriting and vocal specifics, if you wanted. It’d have to be in private though, obviously.” She had added the last bit, but you understood why. To have the opportunity to discuss your music with one of your longtime role models, heroes even, was beyond anything you could have imagined coming from your album’s success. And it made the drama all the more palatable because now you at least got to talk to Harry like the media was so adamantly saying you were doing already.

You nodded quickly and agreed, while trying to keep your teenage fangirl excitement hidden below your mature now-famous musician facade. Like you said, Harry was your hero, he’d been your hero since you were in middle school and had Up All Night downloaded on your iPod touch, blasting it as loud as possible, sound hitting your poster-filled walls. You weren’t the same girl as you were then, obviously, you had grown up to be a strong, independent, and confident woman. But, you still smiled at the thought of your younger self with your baby face squealing in the nosebleeds at the Take Me Home Tour (where you swore Harry had looked straight at you) and her seeing you now, dressed in a sleek outfit setting up an appointment to meet with Harry to discuss your first album, a success.

The next Thursday evening

You took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your pursed lips. You were anxious and excited at the exact same time. Your meeting with Harry was tonight, right now actually, and you hadn’t been able to think about much else since your manager had confirmed the meeting last week. She got you the details a couple of days ago, the location: his house in Malibu, the time: 5:45 P.M. You had brought along a copy of your album on vinyl because you thought it sounded best this way, second only to performing it live.

Choosing your outfit for tonight was probably the toughest decision you’d ever made, harder than choosing between an education and following your dreams, harder than choosing your favorite Beatles song. You didn’t want to worry so much, this wasn’t a date you kept reminding yourself, but everything you tried on earlier kept having something wrong with it, too dressy, too boring, too ‘not yourself’. You had settled for these blue high-waisted pants that you’d worn to your first ever podcast interview, a thin black long sleeve, and a brown leather coat that fell below your hips with vans sneakers, casual, simple, yet still true to you and your vibe.

You raised your free arm and formed a fist, hesitant to knock, as if you’d damage Harry’s seemingly perfect Malibu beachfront home by knocking too hard on the wooden front door. You waited a few moments and could here some shuffling behind the door, some incoherent words were seemingly said, but the walls muffled them before they could reach for ears. Soon enough, Harry Styles in the flesh was before you. He beamed down at you, huffing, slightly out of breath as if he had been clear across the house when you knocked. His strong figure towered above your far smaller stature. He was hanging onto the door since he had opened it only slightly. “Hello, Y/N?” he greeted and questioned simultaneously. “Hi,” you responded and extended the same hand that had just rapped against his now open door. He gripped it, ushering you into his home, “Come in, come in, it’s nice to meet you, don’t want you to catch a cold now do we?” He took note of your strong handshake and ring clad fingers.

He walked you into an area between the kitchen and a sitting area. The kitchen was open aside from a bar high top between the two rooms. You sat down at his prompting and made yourself comfortable. “I brought my record on vinyl, sounds best in my opinion, otherwise I’d recommend seeing it live,” you laughed as you handed the vinyl to him and took off your coat. “Technically, y’know, I could hear it live right now, if you were willin’ f’course,” Harry had responded over his shoulder as he placed the vinyl by his idle record player, “Anything to drink?” “Just water for me, please.” His accent was even stronger in person, especially since he had moved back to London and seldomly stayed in California, except for business and quick trips. As far as you knew, he had already been here on business for the week and was able to pencil you in.

You two settled in, with your waters, seated at the bar top beside each other, but swivelling the chairs to face one another more. Again, you were overwhelmed with the reality of the situation, sitting beside Harry Styles as professionals, peers even. He had heard your work and liked it enough to want to discuss it with you. It was a day you never thought would come to pass. He started off not by asking about the music right away, but about how you were doing with the whirlwind that stardom is. “How are you, Y/N? It’s been somewhat of a out of the frying pan into the fire kind of moment for you?” He stared at you intently, caring to hear your answer.

You couldn’t help but chuckle again and contain your smile, “Thank you for asking, Harry. Yeah, its been definitely stressful, but it’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more so the good is still outweighing any bad. Definitely, fucking exhausted though, dunno how many more interviews I can do before my jaw goes completely rigid from talking so much.” It’s Harry’s turn to laugh, his eyes shone with intrigue at what you said and how you said it. You were gorgeous, but it was how your hands helped you through what you were trying to say and the small laughs you tried to keep in while you amused yourself with your words that really made him want to hear you talk all night long.

He agreed about how the promo junket for an album can get tedious and tiresome, but also the absolute fulfillment you get from people loving the music you’ve made. The two of you chatted about surface level personal matters for a little more, but quickly moved to the music. “I took a listen a couple weeks after the album was released. I especially loved the last track. It reminded me so much of a song I never released, actually…” he trailed off.

Your final track had been a ballad, an homage to George Harrison with your use of guitar and sitar, but the lyrics were a story based off of a poem you had written one night in high school. It surrounded a girl never feeling quite good enough for the person she wanted to be with and how it happened everytime, everytime she was ready to giver herself to someone, they were always closed off. Of course it held some truth to your own life and feelings, but you wrote this girl as someone with a seemingly perfect life - when yours was obviously far from any semblance of perfection.

You wondered what Harry’s song would have sounded like, had it been about a seemingly perfect girl or a guy with a seemingly perfect life, always giving himself to the wrong person and getting destroyed by that very fact because he was impatient as the girl in your song had been. “Can I ask, how so? How’d it remind you of your own song, the words or the music?” “Oh, the story, I felt like that for a time in my life and I like to be vulnerable in my songs because it helps me process, but listening to it back has always been too painful. Could never release that or perform it, it’d wreck me.” You nodded, you completely got where he was coming from. You noticed his downcast eyes and his somber tone, you knew not to push it any further.

It was quiet and you decided it’d be okay to take his hand resting between the two of you. “Harry, I understand,” your sincerity spilled into the words, filling the quiet house, “It’s not easy. Feeling that way. Thinking you’re the only goddamn one and why the fuck does it always happen to you? I used to ask my ceiling ‘why me?’ every night of high school” you smiled then. “But you know how it is,” you rubbed your thumb over his large warm hand and he lifted his head, “it gets so much better - c’mon look at us now! It can get hard, too, all this, I’m sure. But our lives? They’re amazing!” He beamed as he had when he had first seen you at his door and when you’d first really spoke. He moved his hand from under your palm to weave your fingers with his, both of your hands with covered in rings and they clinked to fit together, finally resting perfectly fitted. He shook your two hands up and down, “God, you’re so right! That damn song, m’sorry always puts me in a mood,” he shakes his head, “not yours though, f’course, s’lovely, better than my sodding song” he finishes quickly.

After that, the mood lightened right back up. It filled you with such appreciation for Harry that he would trust you so much with such a personal detail since you two had just met. But maybe, he had trusted you because he had felt that same spark between you. It wasn’t necessarily a romantic spark, but it was obvious the two of you were kindred spirits. Besides your album, the two of you talked about everything. You loved the same bands, movies and books, you both loved to cook and had similar fashion taste, you even had the same person type - something you found out late into the night.

At the end of the Side B of your album, Harry switched to a Bill Evans record that had ‘Peace Piece’ on it. You loved that song. So did he. “So...planning to raid my closet?” Harry raised his brows from the record player and walked back to you. You almost sputtered the water in your mouth. Luckily, you got it down. “Pardon?” “All that bad press the two of us have been getting...I watched the interview that kind of ignited the tabloids. You’re obviously not used to those overstepping personal questions.” You nodded. “It’s fine, even if you’d completely shut it down, the tabloids probably would have picked it up still, they snap up anything and everything, true or not.” You softened at his reassurance. You hadn’t expected Harry to bring the interview up, but you were sure he wasn’t happy about it, he was so private, especially about his love life. “Thanks, I’m sorry I tried to laugh it off, kind of made it worse, didn’t I?” “No! Thought it was hilarious and I totally appreciated the sentiment. Little ol’me, an icon? And an amazing artist? All I gotta do is watch that clip and I’ve fed my narcissistic side for the week!” You giggled and replied slyly, “So does that mean I can raid your closet? As compensation, of course.” Harry threw his head back in an all consuming laughter, when he’d composed himself he looked in your eyes again and said, “You just...God, you get me.”

Harry had continued to put records on throughout the night, diligently flipping sides and asking for requests, he of course had an extensive collection. The two of you had moved onto his plush couch that looked out his french doors to the beautiful ocean view. Finally, your exhaustion caught up to you, mid-Harry describing his latest travel fiasco, you glanced up at the clock. You gasped. Harry stopped. “When did it get to be half 12?” you questioned almost incredulously, “I’ve gotta get home, Harry, but this has been truly amazing, more than I could have asked for, so thank you.” Your speech began to rush as you started to get up and gather your things, that had slowly scattered as you’d gotten more comfortable, jacket by the table, shoes around the back of the couch, your phone forgotten somewhere in the couch. You couldn’t believe you’d spent almost seven hours just talking with Harry Styles.

Harry quickly stood up from his relaxed positioned on the couch and asked if you were alright to drive this late. You scoffed, “Oh please, I’ve driven around at 3 am before, I just have to turn up the music and I can cruise.” He smiled, “This was great, Y/N, I know we didn’t really go super in depth into your writing process, but I’d love to write with you sometime or just hang out again f’course. Your seriously talented and obviously a wonderful person.” He didn’t include that he felt like he’d never met anyone like you, never met someone so perfectly matched to himself, in passions but also in work ethic and demeanor - compassionate yet confident. He felt like you got him perfectly and he got you. You had stopped your scramble to gather yourself and now you were both smiling at one another.

This had really been an unforgettable night, you couldn’t believe how well you two had meshed, like childhood friends reconnecting after years apart. “Can I give yeh a hug before you go?” Harry’s voice had grown raspier as the night had progressed. He had grown rather tired an hour ago, but had pushed through because they had been having so much fun and you hadn’t noticed his physical fading or the time, obviously. You stepped toward him and his large tattooed arms enveloped you into his body. His body truly dwarfed yours now as he held you to his chest. You both were warm and soft. He tucked his head on top of yours that rested on his chest. Your arms were loosely resting where his back met his waist because you would have had to strain to get them to encircle him. His arms rested around your small frame. “Love your jacket,” he mumbled into your hair. His rough voice was quiet, but the house was silent otherwise, Tusk Side C had finished around when you had noticed the time. The embrace lasted long, but it felt so amazing you had a hard time pulling yourself away, but you had to get back home.

“G’night Harry” you said softly at the threshold of his home. He had insisted on walking you to the front door at least, since you had declined his offer to walk you out to your car on the street. “G’night. Safe travels.”

You got in your car and headed to your apartment in the city. You didn’t bother digging for your phone so you turned on the radio and drove home singing whatever came on, including your own song at one point. The whole time you drove with a grin. Harry was the nicest person you’d ever met and you were confident that the two of you were friends now. As you pulled into your parking garage it dawned on you why you hadn’t connected your phone immediately when you got in your car. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you put the car in park and rested your palms in the depressions of your eyesockets, over your closed eyelids, and rubbed hard. “Fuck!” It was far too late to drive back out to Malibu for your phone and you obviously couldn’t text Harry that you’d left your phone at his place, despite the two of you exchanging numbers during the night for future hang outs, so they didn’t have to be arranged through your managers, like playdates. Even if he found your phone between the cushions, he couldn’t drop it at your place in the morning because he didn’t know your address. This was a whole mess, you thought. You’d have to drive over in the morning and hope he was still there or email your manager from your computer. The former meant you got to see Harry sooner and likely your phone, too.

part 2

@berrynarrybanana

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #har #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fic #I DID IT #I sat down and wrote it #and it took forever #and I need to write a second part but I made something coherent #one direction fanfiction #not my gifs #my writing #I love you h #you get me #my writings

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fandomdaydreamer · 3 years

Text

The Lighthouse and The Ocean

Pt 8

You Love Me

Pairing: Pedro Pascal/OFC

Warnings: mature content

Summary: Just two friends battling a hangover and trying to make sense of their last encounter. Their very unsubtle feelings for each other will make it impossibly harder for them to try and make their sex scene less weird.

Notes: Also find this fic on Ao3 -here- or the series' Masterlist -here-

Hiii, I know this chapter is late af, forgive me. The four main reasons are my finals, my job, plotholes and.. a fucking flood?? I also feel guilty about the tease (again) but when I said slow burn... I meant slow burn, ehehehe!

Length: 9.2k

You Love Me

Two painkillers hit the bottom of my glass and fizzled up into the water. The birds outside were chirping a beautiful melody I couldn't even appreciate. I was disorientated and an utter mess, dropping back on top of the sheets in nothing but my underwear.

The first signs of an upcoming heatwave made me anticipate that everything would soon become twice as uncomfortable. I groaned and folded my pillow over my ears and eyes. It was too loud... everything was too loud, too bright, too unreal.

My phone's alarm went off and I scrambled up to look at the clock. "Kut!" I cursed and almost fell off my bed to find my laptop. I knocked over my guitar and the noise almost burst my head. Focus, I told myself. I would miss my skype call with Tom in the next two minutes if I wouldn't get online right fucking now.

I turned on my old, noisy laptop, threw on a t-shirt and combed my hair with my free hand to make myself the least bit presentable. My quick movements made me dizzy and sick.

The skype chime rang and I hit the receive button to see a sweet baby faced and friend shaped man appear on the screen. His smile and waving hand dropped instantly when he took one good look at me. "Hey happy late birthday, Nin- Oh dear, you look like absolute shit." he laughed at my crappy appearance.

I whined with my hand clutched onto that abominable headache behind my eye, he leaned in closer to the camera. "Are you alright?"

I couldn't really smile at my best friend, even though I was happy to see him. "Agony." I dramatized.

"Well, sounds like a perfect birthday hangover."

I was horrified about what I saw in my own window on the screen and I wiped my thumb under my eyes to get rid of the remaining mascara. "I suppose it is."

I changed into a delighted singsong, sounding like an overexcited child. "You wouldn't believe it, Tom. I thought I was about to have the most miserable, sad one-woman birthday party far away from home but then Pedro and the others threw a surprise party for me!"

He beamed. "No way!"

"We danced and talked until early in the morning and we got so pissed. Booze. 'Massive' amounts of booze." I accentuated my words by exaggerating the amount of alcohol we had consumed by spreading my arms wide apart. After Tom's laugh ebbed away, I dropped my hands back into my lap. I felt like my thoughts only caught up with me a second later and I felt like I had forgotten something important. "Actually, I think I might still be drunk."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there." "Yeah, you could experience this hangover with me. Thank you for the new laptop by the way. You're amazing." I grabbed the package that had been delivered to me yesterday morning and held it in front of the webcam. It contained a brand-new laptop from Tom. How considerate of him.

"You're welcome, remember not to download anything before you haven't installed an antivirus first." He joked, recalling our last movie night.

"I know." I leaned over to grab the glass of water on my nightstand and slowly drank the remedy, ignoring the bitter taste of painkillers, which was still a million times better than whatever other taste I had left in my mouth. I wanted to return the glass but the cute photograph of Pedro and me on my nightstand stopped me in my motion. Why did it startle me so much?

"Are you sure you can work today after that legendary night?" Tom asked, connection slightly lagging.

I slowly turned back to my laptop. "I don't know, love. I used to handle the mornings after better. I guess I'm getting older." I managed to both frown and smile. Why did I have this lingering feeling of uneasiness? It was like I was missing a part of my memory but I couldn't put my finger on it.

My gaze drifted over to the vase with the beautiful pink rose Pedro had given me yesterday morning along with my present. A nagging feeling of dread began to slowly catch up with me like my brain was slowly trying to put two and two together.

I mentally counted yesterday's events. There had been this wonderful morning when Pedro had gifted me this rose and the most adorable picture frame ever... my anxiety during the day, thinking it all went to shit and then the lovely birthday party, eating, dancing, drinking, playing the guitar... absurd chatter concerning a deal with Third Man Records... something else had happened. I didn't even remember how I got into bed. I remembered laughing with Pedro but it was all a hazy dream.

"Nin?" "Huh, what?" I snapped back into reality.

Tom was eying me in suspicion. "Are you even listening?" he asked. "Yeah, totally." I lied.

"No, you were miles away. What did I just say?" He quizzed me, leaning closer to the webcam.

"Something about work?" I guessed wrongly.

"What happened?"

I was trying to figure that out myself. A fleeting image of Pedro’s face up close to mine crossed my mind and I recalled his hands exploring my skin, the heat between our bodies and tangled limbs... WAIT, WHAT? My head snapped back towards my door and a hand flew up to my mouth. "Oh, no!" I squeaked as it violently came rushing back to me.

"What? What is it?" Tom yelled.

I could only repeat my previous exclamation, over and over. Embarrassment about what happened last night seeped into the deepest pit of my soul. I couldn't believe my dazed memories but they were most definitely not lying. I folded my body and crumbled under the realisation of what had occurred between the hallway and my bed.

Tom urged me to say something. "Nin? You're scaring me."

I dry heaved and forced myself to calm down. "I'm sorry!" I tried to excuse my actions without giving Tom any context yet. "Oh, I... I was really drunk."

"Yes, yes, I know that." "I wish I had either drunken less or significantly more because my current situation is not ideal." "Why, what did you do?"

"You whAT?" Tom yelled, flabbergasted. There was a rumble and something tipped over on his desk. It was like he tried to stabilise his body by gripping the edges.

Memories of heated kisses invaded my mind. I sought out the feeling of his lips tracing my neck. His hips had thrust into mine when I dug my fingers into his hair. I had been dying to meet the bulge underneath his denim jeans. I let out a high-pitched sound.

"I just- we uhm..." I stuttered and gestured towards the door. "Pedro and I- we... we were making out. My memory is a bit wonky but I think we almost hooked up, I-"

I would have laughed at his comedic reaction if I hadn't been so mortified. I remained silent until I heard Tom calling out my full name.

"We didn't go any further but- oh my goodness, he has officially ruined every other man for me. Just kissing him was the best feeling in the world." I tipped my head back and let out a sound of frustration.

"Wait, he kissed you back? Nin?"

My eyes remained closed as I lolled my head down again. "He's such a good kisser. I can't stop thinking about his-" I wet my lips, not giving a damn about how I kept dumping unwanted intimate details on Tom. "Strong grip and dominance. I fucking knew he had this in him! Did I beg at one point? I-"

Tom interrupted me with a sour expression on his face. "That's it, you belong in horny-jail."

"And I should get a life sentence too because the way I threw myself at him was embarrassing. He was so sweet yesterday, making me feel so special and we've been such good friends and what if I have ruined that now? I have to go down for breakfast in a minute and I think I'd rather let someone take me out, right now. Just-" I mimed blowing my brains out.

Tom sighed deeply. "Darling, it sounds like you're falling in-"

"Don't say it."

"I'm gonna say it." I hid behind my hands and peeked at him like he was about to rip off a band-aid. "-falling in love. Accept it. Frankly, I saw it coming."

His words struck a chord in me. It was true. "I am. I am utterly and completely in love with him. Oh, Tom, what am I gonna do?" I sobbed, really not knowing what to do with myself.

"Well, don't look at me like I got answers. I'm sure you'll figure something out. Sounds like you got to take care of-" he pointed his finger up and down at me through the screen and cackled. "that... first."

I glared at him. "Rotjoch."

"Gesundheit." There was a sudden racket on Tom's end and he got distracted by a noise in his room. He stood up from his chair and revealed that he was not wearing any trousers. "Hey, sod off, I'm on a bloody skype call!" Somebody was yelling out a rude reply.

I leaned over like I could spot the person who had entered Tom's room, probably his little brother. "Was that Henry?" I inquired.

He leaned back over the webcam. "Yeah, I think he needs help or something. Call you next week?"

"Yea, I think I'll-" the connection broke and I was left with a blue screen. I dropped my shoulders, posture deflating. "-need it."

"Say hi to your family for me." "I will."

"See you, Tom!" "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Good luck."

One step at a time. First, I really needed to pee, take a shower and put on some clean clothes. Then I'd worry about Pedro.

~~~

When I came down for breakfast, looking more like myself and less like a swamp monster, I glanced around the corner into the communal area. They were sitting at a table inside to escape the scorching morning light.

I let out a sigh of relief when I realised the gang was missing the presence of one particular member I wasn't keen on facing so soon. I relaxed and left my hiding spot. My hand was still clutched onto my forehead in a hopeless attempt to stop the throbbing pain.

Two third of them were wearing sunglasses and the rest was still missing. The look wasn't anything unusual for Jim but he was oddly quiet behind his mug of coffee. "My boys." I greeted them.

"Speaking of the devil." Old tomcat Waits was his usual self. Either the alcohol didn't have a lasting effect on him or he didn't have as much to drink. "We were just talking about how nobody should mix tequila and beer, ain't that right, Chiwetel?" he teased him.

"Beer before liquor, never been sicker," the Brit replied in a tired voice.

I sat next to Bill and decided not to comment as I watched him crack one raw egg after the other out of a full carton and into a glass of milk. I shared a concerned look with Chiwetel, whose dark skin seemed a bit grey this morning. He moved slowly and grabbed a carafe with orange juice.

He poured a second glass and shoved it over to me. "Have some vitamins, dear. You need it," he said lowly, pushing his shades back onto his nose.

"Thank you." I sniffed at the drink and felt a sharp smell stinging my nose. "That's... not orange juice." I noticed with hoarse breath and coughed.

"Ayurvedic bullshit." Bill snapped, movements thrice as quick as anything I could comprehend. He shook some kind of salty smelling dark liquid into his own hangover cure and stirred it with a spoon. It turned a greenish-grey colour and I almost gagged.

The corners of Chiwetel's mouth turned downwards in disgust. "How can you drink that, you daft old man?" he asked Bill like he was out of his mind.

"You get my age and see how good you can handle a hangover without this stuff." Bill pinched his nose and gulped down half of his tall glass. Chiwetel, Jim and I watched in horror. Tom laughed.

"Excuse me, what exactly is this?" I asked Chiwetel, pointing a finger down at my drink.

He raised his own oddly coloured, spicy juice while Bill recovered. A chill went down the older man's spine and he jerked his head, shaking his entire face.

Chiwetel continued. "That, my dear girl, is orange juice with ginger, lemon, cayenne pepper and curcuma. Now that works wonders- Oh hello, Pedro. Good morning." he got distracted.

I knitted my eyes shut at Chiwetel's words. A familiar presence approached our table and I took notice of his heavier than normal motions behind me. Pedro was pulling out a chair and sat down right next to me with a deeply tortured groan. I didn't look. I couldn't.

"Mornin'." he rasped out. "I don't think Tilda is going to make it down anytime soon. Can't even blame her."

Jim slowly massaged his temples. "I guess that means we can't shoot today. But... I thought maybe we should take it slow anyway. As fortune has it, some kind of critter has chewed through the pool hydraulics and it doesn't pump any water. We will have to have it fixed." he sat his mug down and sighed. "There's always something. No pool scene for a couple of days, at least."

"Oh," I exclaimed, sounding too pleased. The others looked at me. "-I mean..." I changed my tone of 'oh' to a sad one and quickly gulped my orange juice. It burned my throat and I felt like I was able to breathe fire. My spine straightened, suddenly I was wide awake. "Bloody hell, and she's back, hello!" "Told you."

I couldn't handle spicy things very well but I already felt better after the second sip. It gave me something to focus on.

"I'll have what she's having," Pedro said in awe and Chiwetel poured him the remaining juice.

Jim continued like he hadn't heard us. "-Which also means that we're going to switch the scene schedule and shoot the sex scene-" I choked on my drink, slowing Jim down in his announcement. "-between Raguel... and Starling this instead of next week."

I coughed a few times, swallowing harshly. Pedro gently clapped on my back in an attempt to help me use my windpipe. When I finally looked at him for the first time after last night, I saw a mixture of bemusement and mild concern on his face. He was in quite a rough shape himself, hair a mess and dark shadows under his eyes. He was probably not done using pain pills just like me.

"Spicy." I rasped out, trying to put it on my drink. "Sure," he was unconvinced and sipped his juice like it contained only oranges. He knew me well enough that my eyes silently begged him to kindly fuck off.

Jim continued. "The change of schedule won't interfere with our due date. If you two are up for it."

To be honest, everything but the pool scene. I took a deep breath to make sure I was able to speak again. "Yeah, of course." I agreed in a professional business tone.

Pedro cleared his throat and leaned forward to let his elbows rest on the table. "When?" he asked.

"Friday. We all feel a bit... under the weather. I might just find a cool, dark place somewhere and make adjustments to the camera instructions."

"Yeah, it's really hot already. I think I might hit the hotel pool." Pedro announced. "Anyone care to join?" he looked at me after he had stood up from his chair. How gladly I would have taken him up on his offer but there was this issue with me and chlorine, which he didn't know about.

I stammered, looking back and forth between his face and extended hand. "I, uh..." When I tugged my hands under my armpits in a protective manner, he dropped his arm, slight confusion and maybe a little bit of disappointment evident on his face.

"I will!" Chiwetel threw in and stood up.

I gave Pedro an apologetic smile as both got ready to head outside. "I think I'm good, thank you," I replied in as much of a light tone as I could muster.

A smile tugged at his lips. "Ok. Well... see you around then." He looked like he wanted to say something else, mouth opening and closing and hand flying to the back of his head, ruffling his chocolate curls. When he turned and left down the hallway, without grabbing a single bite to eat, I was left wondering if I had hurt his feelings.

I couldn't read Tom's face but something told me he was the kind of empath who immediately knew what was going on. Before I stood up myself, I downed my glass and without another word, I left towards the empty hallway, wondering what I'd do with my day off. I decided I could maybe head towards the library but when I turned around the corner, I almost ran into a broad chest.

Pedro leaned against the wall in an expectant manner. I gave him a half-hearted smile and turned to find another hiding spot. "You're avoiding me," he called after me.

Instead of running away, I faced him with a clueless expression. "No, I'm not. I have no idea what you mean."

Pedro raised his hands, signalling he didn't mean any harm but he soon relaxed and let his arm lean above him while the other rested on his hip. He was somehow towering over me without being threatening. "Yes, you have. You're mad at me." he insisted, tilting his head with a slight pout.

I cooed, saddened by the fact that he honestly thought I held some kind of grudge against him. "No. Oh, lieverd." I used the endearment, slightly squeezing his arm. "I'm just... awkward and hungover and... embarrassed. And I expect that won't go away for a bit, not after the way I behaved last night. I don't know what to do." There. I had said it.

Pedro’s pout twisted into a wicked smile. Oh, no. I knew that face. "Well, I can think of one or two things." he mused.

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, do you now? Me too, you know."

He was almost irresistible with his hooded eyes and the slight flex in his jaw. "Entonces pregúntame, nena. If there's anything I can do to help then all you gotta do is ask."

I didn't know how obviously I was struggling to keep in a moan. Luckily, I managed to swallow it and act like he didn't know how to turn me on in an instant. He was giving me a hard time when he was eye-fucking me like that. "I got a better idea. How about you just leave me alone?" I suggested with feigned bitchiness instead. I proudly crossed my arms and began to turn away from him.

Pedro managed to keep me with him by capturing my chin with his finger and thumb, grinning like a smug devil and making it clear to me he wouldn't let me off the hook that easily. "But that's not what you wanted me to do last night, am I right?" he murmured. I could only hold my breath and try to focus on something else other than my fleeting heartbeat underneath his fingertips or the throbbing in my lower regions.

Ok, that was it. I swatted his hand away, whispering inches away from his lips and I looked up into his mischievously glinting eyes as I spoke. "You're a terrible, terrible person and I want you to know that." I pressed out. He laughed lowly. "Oh, no, you love me."

I raised my voice in disbelief at this bold assumption. "Love you?"

"You love me and you just won't admit it." he bickered with me, back and forth. How dared he rub in the truth? I wanted to leave again but he caught my hand and made me spin around back at him just like our dance the night before. The look on my face made his shoulders shake with laughter. "Don't worry, I'm just messing with you."

My mouth had become a desert nevertheless. "You, sir, can suck it forever!" I hissed and grinned as I twisted my body out of his arms, betraying that I still adored him no matter what a cocky bastard he had become all of sudden.

"I'll think about it," Pedro replied before I was about to leave him behind.

Oh, I couldn't let him have the last word, could I? I took brisk steps back towards him. "You! You..." I lowered my voice again, making sure nobody would be able to hear us. It was my turn to back him up against the wall with a slight shove of my finger. "Let me remind you that it was 'you' who decided to leave me all alone last night. You have no right to be so... so..."

The corners of his lips curled up in amusement. "So... what? Tell me."

"Infuriating! You drive me crazy, Pascal. I am still mortified about the way I behaved, ok? I am enormously sexually frustrated. I wish..." I couldn't say what I really wished for. I wished he hadn't left. I wished I could someday wake up in his arms the way it had been denied from me this morning.

For the first time, Pedro seemed serious. "Call me old fashioned but I don't think one shouldn't take advantage of a drunk woman. No matter how tempting she is."

I hummed impatiently, secretly knowing that he was right and I would most likely not have remembered it if we had ended up shagging. "Always the gentleman. I suppose I should thank you but I won't. Not after that cruel exit you made."

I would have been able to cut the atmosphere between us with a knife and I felt his gaze prickling my skin. Now that we both had confirmed that we wanted each other, everything we said and did only emphasised that we were due. It was like a ticking clock hung above our heads that counted down every second until we would eventually end up in bed together. I would have to decide if I wanted to save our friendship and return to the way we used to be or dive headfirst into... whatever this foreplay was.

Pedro’s fingers brushed mine and I wouldn't dream of pulling away now. "Too bad, I suppose you won't let me make it up to you." he guessed, head tilting like he was trying to find the best angle to kiss me. His deep voice and the sheer proximity was maddening.

I let go of my lip when I realised, I had been biting it sore. "Certainly not. It's my turn to leave you high and dry." I pulled away from him and he pouted again. If this had been a game of chess, my move would have been checkmate.

He smiled like a good looser as we parted ways. "Fair enough," he said.

"See you at dinner?" I tried a compromise in a chipper tone and we grinned at each other as if nothing happened. It was nothing special, we dined together almost every night.

"Count me in." Pedro was already out the door when he threw a wink back at me. He stepped out into the sunlight and put on his sunglasses.

It took me several seconds to recover. When I was sure he was gone, I let out a shuddering breath before I was able to collect my thoughts and remember what my original destination used to be. I needed a distraction and some solitude.

Time passed and the day only became hotter. I had been engrossed in my crime novel when I heard a noise coming from the garden. I stood to investigate when I heard Pedro’s familiar laugh.

I approached the window with my book tugged beneath my arm, a fond smile playing on my lips when I took in the scene before me. I chuckled to myself at the sight of Pedro in a t-shirt and swim trunks as he played with the hotel owner's two small children in the shade. The little girl and her older brother were kicking a football across the grass and they were giggling and squealing as they fought over the ball. Pedro played the defeated adult after he had captured the ball and he let the kids climb his back like a mountain. They had forced him to the ground and buried him under their small bodies.

Just when I thought I couldn't possibly fall any harder for that man, I was proven wrong again. I couldn't understand what he was saying to them in Spanish but he seemed to have given up. He raised his hand and groaned out a sound of fake misery. The children adored him for it.

"He's quite something, isn't he?" A smooth voice beside me commented and I jumped. Tilda stood beside me, looking out the window herself towards Pedro and the children. The taller woman, who I thought had been upstairs in her room with a terrible hangover was sipping on a cappuccino, steady gaze fixed onto them playing together. She was equally delighted at the trio and I looked back to see that Pedro was kneeling in front of the little girl. He put the ball down on the grass and encouraged her to kick it.

He was unaware of our observation. Pedro cheered when she kicked the ball. "I had no idea he was so good with children," I replied with a hint of a happy sparkle in my voice.

He had picked up the giggling toddler and pretended to snap his teeth at the chubby little hand she pat him across his face with, nearly poking out an eye.

"Look at them," Tilda said in amusement and I was startled again, sorry that I almost hadn't heard her above the sound of my exploding overies. "He likes you very much, you know."

"Yeah, me too," I replied quietly, almost choking on my words. Pedro ruffled the boy's hair with one hand as he carried the little dark-haired girl on his other arm. Their mother looked up from her rose bushes to meet them halfway with a winning smile.

I already knew he was a wonderful person and I was sure he would have been a great father too. I was saddened by the fact that the child who would have been absolutely spoiled with his love didn't exist. The realisation clouded my mind a little. I hadn't really thought about being a parent myself since the man in my last relationship already had four children and before that, being a mother just never occurred to me- but now? Pedro was everything a good man ought to be. I was surprised to find myself considering a domestic life all of sudden... with Pedro. A warm feeling spread from my heart through my whole body. Maybe... one day.

~~~

I spent the time before the shoot mostly in denial until the very moment I was presented with my costumes. The first was a nice white dress and the second... well... fitted into the palm of my hand. I suddenly became hyperaware of the fact that I would be practically naked in front of Pedro.

I distracted myself by memorising the tiny scribbled notes I had written next to my lines. It was a method I always used to create little impressions and help me picture my characters' inner turmoils better.

*The angel runs over my dead-end feelings*, it read.

I stored my script away and stepped onto the tiny green 'x' that marked my initial position. Pedro stood on the yellow cross.

"And... ACTION."

Raguel's hair was still tousled by the desert wind when he had come to visit Starling in her room. We picked up the scene where we left it. His eyes were full of sorrow as he eventually told me the truth. "You were killed, Starling. This is the afterlife. Or at least... a trial."

I smiled for a second, convincing the camera that I thought this was just a poor joke. I continued to collect my stuff around the room. "What are you saying? I'm going home tomorrow." I stopped packing when I noticed he was staring at me. My smile faltered as I tried to understand what this was about. "Raguel?"

He replied slowly, choosing his words carefully, in his always poetic way of speaking. "You set out on your journey back home, runaway girl, with regret weighing on your mind but there's no baggage to tow anymore and no trail ahead of you. You will never return."

It slowly started to dawn on me that he wasn't lying. "Killed?" I repeated weakly and then I seemed to remember. My eyes drifted into nothingness as I recalled the past. "That man..." It was true.

He nodded sternly.

Panic started to crawl under my skin. "-I just woke up in this bus that brought me here. What will my family do? My... father. Oh, why did I go? Why did I go?"

"I'm sorry." "Who are you?" "I'm an angel."

"Yes, I suppose you are." I made a face like it all made sense, trying to protect myself with a final but failed attempt of irony behind my veil of tears. "If I'm dead then why does this feel so real?" I almost asked aggressively. Starling recalled the darkest place she had ever been. There, deeper, all the way deeper where she refused to look, there was a light.

The angel stepped closer. "You are. Still real. You are the quintessence of the things left undone, unsaid, not lived, not loved. Only deep regret leads people to Azazel. She judges who is fit to follow the dark path."

"So there is a destination meant for me after all." I choked out a bitter laugh.

Raguel seized my arms. "I waited for you to make a decision, to do something. I waited for you and I burned in return. I didn't expect you to be... so lovely. I want..." He reached out to touch the warmth of my skin. "I want... to disobey. These times I learn I'm tortured." "Angels don't talk like that," I whispered.

"They also shouldn't feel the way I do." "What do you want from me? Smuggle me into your heaven? Don't make me laugh." My voice was laced with bitterness and deep sorrow. I cracked. "It's too late to fix me and rewind the damage I've done. You have to give me up."

In his own, intensely gloomy way, he became nearly desperate. "I can't."

Now stronger than ever, Starling felt like a stranger with a name she couldn't remember. "I don't even know what I am to you," I said, hugging my arms around me.

He gently connected his forehead with mine, closing his eyes, he tore my last protective wall down. "You are... my obstacle, my blessing, an ever-lasting memory that summons my thoughts towards my infatuation. Knowing that I can't save you tears me apart."

A tear rolled down my cheek. "But you already have." I sobbed, grieving that I had found love without a future. "How can I mourn the loss of heaven when you are right here?"

His thumb gently traced my cheek to wipe my tears away and the expression in his eyes send warmth through my entire body. "How can they not see how beautiful the light inside of you is?" Raguel said as he stared into my soul and the cameras didn't see me breaking character, for his words had melted the real me right then and there.

Pedro looked at me through his eyelashes, love and adoration so magically real. Why did I keep falling into his eyes? I snapped back into my role and only Pedro himself could have seen the subtle change.

For the first time, Starling felt home when he kissed her. I felt a familiar pull in my stomach at the sensation of his lips on mine, moving slowly and sweetly. It was easy to forget the cameras when I closed my eyes and poured my entire love for Pedro into the kiss.

My head was spinning when he stopped to look at me but I had a job to do.

No words were spoken as my fingers dove under the shoulders of his leather jacket to pry it off. His eyes never left mine and calmed my grief about my lost life. I stood to watch his reaction and when he didn't push me away, my hand travelled to the first button of his shirt. His eyes never left mine as he let me undress him.

Starling was vulnerable, her bravery leaving her the moment Raguel slipped his finger under the strap of her dress and let it fall off her shoulder. A tear spilt onto my chest and I sealed my sob by kissing him like there was no tomorrow. I put all my yearning for a real connection into the contact as he pulled me impossibly closer. Soon his black button-down had followed onto the floor and Raguel only momentarily separated from me to pull my dress over my head and attack my lips with more eagerness. He lifted me so I could wrap my legs around his hips as he carried me towards the bed, where he crawled on top of me. We surrendered.

"CUT!"

Maybe it was the nerves but Pedro and I both started giggling at each other.

I tilted my head despite the limited space for me between his forearms. "Was that ok? I didn't hurt your back, did I?" I asked, distracting us from our half undressed state.

Pedro shook his head. "No, don't worry. I did stretch before this." He was still looking down at me but eventually shifted into a new position, arm supporting his weight next to my body. I ran my hand through his hair tenderly. I would have loved to imprint his soft smile into my brain forever.

"Then let's do it again."

Eventually, Jim was content with the build-up and we moved on to the third and final part of the scene. Pedro and I were both in bathrobes, hiding our state of undress from the skeleton crew and ourselves. There were only a couple of essential people including him, me and well... the sex scene choreographer. Betty was a sweet person but with all these people present, it never wasn't weird.

It wasn't like I hadn't done this before. Sex scenes were part of the job and just like any other scene so why was this so awkward and hard and so... exciting? The latter, I had never experienced before under these circumstances.

I wished we wouldn't have to do this.

I wished we would do this in real life. Alone. I had wanted Pedro so bad, especially these past few days that I felt the need to slam my fist against the wall or sink my teeth into a pillow and scream. I had long lost count of the many curses I had repeated in my mind while I was crouching on the floor and petting Besos, the set-cat.

Pedro made jokes, he made me laugh and part of me knew he was only being this goofy to calm my nerves and make me more comfortable. He had turned his back to me and flashed Besos.

The cat looked up at his open bathrobe and yawned, which made me laugh so hard they had to reapply my makeup.

"Somebody get the cat out of here," Jim ordered in a bored voice while checking the camera angle and Pedro chimed in. "Yeah, this isn't a fucking peep show, Besos. Vete!" we chuckled at the cat, who skedaddled away.

Betty stepped in. "It usually helps to just hang out naked for a while, but you already know that, right?" I noticed the other crew members left the set to give us some privacy. "This too." she offered us a tray of shot glasses with a clear liquid.

"Ah, no thanks," I said and Pedro shook his head as well, gesturing for her to take them away.

"Ok." I jumped up and down like I was getting ready for a box fight. "Ready?" I stood in front of Pedro, gripping my bathrobe around the edges. He grinned and raised his shoulders. "Ready when you are."

"Three- two-" I counted backwards, and after we both said 'one' we dropped the robes, revealing our nudity.

I got rid of the bathrobe to reveal... well... almost everything. I was only wearing a tiny nude vag-pad and I couldn't help but cross my arms in front of my chest. Pedro on the other hand was looking into my eyes and eyes only. But Betty gave me an encouraging look and I dropped my arms.

I let out a huff of breath. "No big deal. Boobs, whatever." I gestured to invite him to take a look at me, so he glanced down and I was relieved at how chill he seemed to be.

He on the other hand wore something they called a modesty pouch which male actors used to cover their... crown jewels with. Otherwise, he was just as exposed. When I stole a glance, I barely managed to not widen my eyes. He surely was 'packing' underneath that horrid piece of cloth.

We both started laughing awkwardly.

Jim stepped in, blessing us with a distraction. "Hey, are we feeling cool about this? Betty, wouldn't you agree that we should slightly cover them with a thin sheet when they're on the bed? I want to reveal more by showing less."

"Yes, please lie down, you two. I wanna see your arms around him, mainly his shoulder and head area and you Pedro, just worship her like your life depends on it." Betty ordered. She continued to run us through every movement in a way that was about as sexy as following a road map.

I hopped onto the bed, ruffling through my open hair like Betty instructed and making room for Pedro. Before we could be tucked and torn into the right position, I pushed him back into the pillows one last time while I was still being myself. He looked surprised at my initiative but didn't seem like he was able to comment. I stared down at him, hoping he would catch the amused twinkle in my eyes. For a moment, we were hidden from the world by the curtain of my hair.

"This one isn't for the cameras," I told him before I gave him a chaste kiss. His lips were left pursed when I lifted myself off him after I had lingered for a second longer to keep staring into those lovely dark eyes.

"Look at you. I think we're done being nervous about this, aren't we?" he noticed with a smirk. Pedro regained control by flipping us around, making me squeal when he accidentally tickled my sides. His eyes widened. "You're ticklish." he noticed for the first time. "No?" I lied. Too late.

I automatically tried to defend myself but he was squeezing my sides again. He elicited another high shriek from me and chuckled at my newly discovered weakness.

"Pedr- Please, n- no!" I was a giggling mess. It felt like he was wrestling me around until he had finally trapped me underneath his body. Both his hands were pinning mine down into the mattress, right beside my head. He was much stronger than me and therefore, my chances of struggling free were limited. But it also meant he couldn't continue tickling me. I recovered slowly, laughter still rolling off the both of us and I realised I had never in my life felt more comfortable with a scene partner. Pedro freed me before I could start enjoying our position in a whole different way.

Betty chimed in from somewhere behind the cameras. "You ready?"

I tried to block out the cameras following us, already filming by now. "Yeah!"

"Do you wanna go for a beer and cheeseburgers when we're done... dry humping?" Pedro asked innocently as he positioned himself between my legs.

"Absolutely," I answered and he gave me a radiant smile. My hand was a fleeting motion across his smooth, toned chest, curiosity getting the better of me and I stole a glance down his happy trail, seeing his hip resting against mine in a harmless position. Betty was draping the thin white bed sheet over my legs which I used to wrap myself around him until our lower halves were covered.

"Scene 45, take one." someone said. The clapperboard shut and Jim announced. "Action."

The mood shifted in an instant as Pedro transformed into an angel desperate for the girl lying underneath him. He planted longing kisses on my breasts while grazing the soft skin with his thumb.

Of course, I was aware of the team, the cameras and the lighting but I couldn't help myself; every single one of his kisses felt like he was jump-starting my heart. The instructed gasp came naturally to me when he brushed against my nipple but he didn't give me a moment to breathe before he pressed his mouth onto mine. Skilled fingers kneading, first at my torso, then my hips, my ass and eventually inner thigh.

How on earth could this not be real? His lips were moving so sinfully over mine, tongue diving into my mouth, teeth nipping at my bottom lip and sucking. I would soon call myself addicted to the feeling of his moustache tickling at my skin and I sighed, delirious from the sensation of his hand lifting my knee higher.

I needed to focus on our characters and recite my own notes in my head.

- He is a man poisoned by love, his look of steel, elusive. Under that moody and rough exterior, lies a gentle lover able to worship every inch of my body and soul as he runs over my dead-end feelings.

Dear God, I hoped my little pad was reliable enough to hide the growing clamminess I was unable to control. Even with the cameras, just Pedro touching me was more than my body could handle without risking my urgent need to give in to my primal instincts.

He smelled a million times better than any perfume or other scent in the entire world. He tasted better than anything my tongue had ever experienced. His kiss was searing hot and so close to the real Pedro. This was exactly the way he had kissed me on the night after my birthday. His tongue was probing mine, showing me I would never crave another man's kiss ever again.

His hips ground forward and- oh.

Feeling his hardened cock underneath the bundle of cloth against my thigh made me buck my hips upwards into him involuntarily and I met his covered length with the heat between my legs.

Raguel... Pedro groaned against my lips. We couldn't do this over stimulation but he had to raise his body a little higher, this time... and I emitted a short moan as we acted out the intrusion.

We were limbs, wet kisses, stolen friction, heat and arousal and I tried to fool myself into thinking that I was just really being my character. It was all too much and it wasn't even real. If this fake intimacy was this intense, how would the real Pedro act, I asked myself.

The sheet slowly flowed off our bodies, revealing more and more of our pretended connection while he moved his hips in a steady rhythm. It was then that Pedro lightened up the mood by humming a melody I recognised. He was singing a Fleetwood Mac song while he was humping me and I messed up the take by breaking into laughter. We had to stop filming.

Pedro immediately rolled off of me and hid a shy smile behind his hand. He rolled his eyes in annoyance with himself, covering his crotch with the sheet. "I'm so sorry about that. That's unprofessional." he excused his erection. Betty approached and sprayed us with more fake sweat.

Poor man, I thought. "Hey, have I told you the story about the day I found my grandpa's dentures in my yoghurt?" "What?" Pedro got startled by the mood swing and he looked at me like I had grown a second head. He soon began to wheeze and triggered my piggy laugh with it.

After our little break, things got easier and the atmosphere sterilised. I had told him all the gross details, which made Pedro smile at my subtle attempt to turn him off. It worked though and we were soon ready to continue our scene.

I met each and every one of his thrusts with Starling's need to cling to a soul that radiated the warmth of the sun. Raguel seemed to treat every second like there was no time and we had to speed up the truth in one magic rush.

I had to tear my eyes open when he groaned one final time as his very convincing orgasm rippled through his body. He melted into the arms of a fire that was meant to fade out without him. I cradled his neck as he buried his face into my shoulder. Pure bliss and pleasant morphine dreams illuminated my face as I pretended to calm down from the highest possible feeling in the world. Raguel exhaled with a shuddering breath, hips bottoming out like he could still chase another rush of endorphins. I held him like he was the only real thing left in my world and we just lay there panting softly. The largest part of our scene was all about the afterglow and I actually enjoyed doing that.

I felt worshipped by his gaze alone.

The camera was nearly poking into our faces.

"CUT!"

I propped myself up onto my elbows, still panting and looking like I had been properly ravished. I had long stopped caring about our nakedness. I smacked my lips, trying to regain my ability to articulate. "By the way, why 'The Chain'?" I recalled his random musical addition to our scene and we laughed. "Just an attempt to distract myself." he dropped into the pillows and exhaled deeply. Then he chuckled. "Though your story was better."

"Hey, it's alright," I propped my hand under my chin and let my arm rest on his chest. "Stupid human bodies and automatic functions. I told you I was comfortable doing this with you, didn't I? I trust you. You have full permission and I'm not weirded out. Don't worry."

His awkwardness was soon replaced with a growing fondness in his eyes. "Thanks. You know, I've never told you how nice you are."

"Hm, you love me." I parroted his words back at him, earning a genuine smile. I got into a sitting position. "But seriously, you think you're the only one? How do you think I feel? Jesus Christ. All of this for a thirty seconds scene." I would have to excuse myself to go clean up and change my pad.

Jim walked over, interrupting Pedro’s revelation by subtly clearing his throat. "We will need a few more takes to make sure we don't have to come back for a reshoot but you were nearly perfect. Try a little less tongue next time."

"Got it." Pedro and I both said. "Jinx!" We added simultaneously, pointing at the other.

We were up for the next round.

~~~

We hadn't forgotten about our little cheeseburger plan and I was famished by the time our shoot was over. The hotel didn't serve burgers though and I figured we would have to go somewhere else. I anticipated the evening beyond measures when Pedro told me to meet me in the lobby in one hour.

With the sun gone, the temperature dropped to a comfortable level. The night offered a tiny bit of relief from the sweltering heat throughout the day and yet it stayed gloriously warm and clear.

I spotted Pedro waiting by the entrance and he looked twice as I descended the marble stairs in my light and flowy summer dress.

I blushed at the way his jaw had dropped a little. "You look wonderful," he told me and I grinned as I tucked a strand of hair that had escaped my braid behind my ear. "Thank you. You clean up nicely yourself."

"Thanks." Pedro looked down at his attire like he hadn't realised. He had rolled up the sleeves of his deep purple button up and I had to admit that it stretched rather nicely across his chest and biceps.

"I'm curious where you're taking me. I've been wanting to hit the town for a while now. It seems perfect tonight."

The expression on his face though was apologetic. "Well, there's something I got to tell you. Do you want to hear the good news or the bad news first?"

My face fell. "Oh, dear. The bad news is that I have to make a decision first." I joked and made him laugh. "The bad news, please." I cringed as I took the arm, he offered me. We walked in the opposite direction towards the hotel's gardens.

"They won't let us go downtown for safety reasons. You know, high risk of crime, possibly kidnapping, especially after dark. I'm sorry." Pedro said and I let out a tiny 'oh'. If I was being honest, I wasn't surprised and maybe a tiny bit relieved. That did sound logical. After all, Mexico wasn't the safest of all places but the rebel inside of me had thought Pedro had maybe found a way to smuggle us out of here and hunt for cheeseburgers.

But now I didn't know what the plan was. "So... we're not going out?"

"The good news, however-" he led me outside towards the rose garden. Quiet Latin music played somewhere in the near distance and I squinted my eyes to investigate the hidden light source behind the bushes. Pedro lifted a branch and revealed a magical place.

Soft candlelight illuminated the area around a table for two underneath the tree that had been conquered by white roses. The garden had been transformed. Colourful lampions hung above our heads between the branches and I was purely mesmerised and entranced by the sheer beauty of it all. "Pedro..." I began but words failed me. Nobody had ever done something like this for me.

Pedro on the other hand was watching me closely, lights dancing in his dark eyes. "Do you like it?" he asked, awaiting my reaction.

I knew my eyes were sparkling with too much emotion. "I love it. I can't believe you did this."

He pulled out a chair for me. "With a bit of imagination, we could pretend to be in a restaurant somewhere downtown." He suggested. When I was seated, he silently offered to pour me a glass of ice cold cerveza and I nodded, still in a slight daze from the romantic ambience.

"Was this what you meant when you said you wanted to make it up to me?" I asked.

"Maybe," Pedro answered mysteriously as he sat down opposite me.

We lifted our glasses for a toast above the neatly placed dinner table. "Well, it's a bit fancier than I expected but I guess we can get some cheeseburgers another time." I winked at him in good humour, raising the glass to my lips the same time as he did. What did he look so happy about?

The familiar waiter, a young lad I had come to know as Miguel came out of the bushes. He carried a tray topped with one of these fancy silver lids you would normally expect to be presented with in a place like Buckingham Palace. "Oh, what's thi- AH!" I interrupted myself with a sound of astonishment. There were steaming cheeseburgers and chips underneath. "Surprise!" Pedro cheered and laughed at my perplexity.

I could kiss him right now. "You're without question, the most amazing man I've ever met!" I told the delighted man in front of me.

It was a wonderful dinner, just the two of us. We talked and shared stories as we ate and it wasn't the first time that I thought I could spend every night with him, just like this, for the rest of my life.

He chuckled. "I enjoyed myself too. Who knew that working here would feel more like a holiday sometimes?"

It was late in the evening when Pedro escorted me through the garden back towards the villa.

"I had the most wonderful time," I spoke out my thoughts as I walked side by side with him. I leaned against his shoulder as I held onto his arm and he covered my hand with his.

"Certainly, with rendezvous like that. I could get used to it." I snuck my hand into his broad palm and felt butterflies ignite within me when he held it in return.

"I should take you out for dinner more often then." "It was a date, then?" "If you wanted it to be." He gave me the option.

"Yes," I replied as we reached the stairs. I was still holding his hand by the time I felt him tugging me back.

Pedro didn't move further and I turned around, a little confused why had stopped following me. I stepped down again, finally understanding. It wasn’t like my response had killed the mood; it had just made him more cautious, now that we weren't fighting our attraction towards each other anymore.

I didn't need to ask him why he decided to stay, for I knew he wouldn't want to let it seem like he expected to immediately take me up to my room after our first official date... not after the scene we just finished shooting. He was just being considerate and indeed, we were in no rush. I saw by the look on his face that he understood what was going through my head as well. If my impression was correct, we both cared too much for each other for this to be just a brief fling.

He smiled softly when I stayed on the first step of the stairs. Now at eye level with him, I rested my arms on his shoulders. "Thank you for tonight," I said and felt his arms sneaking around my waist to pull me closer.

"My pleasure." he purred. It felt like the right thing to do when I placed a soft kiss on his lips. He returned it for this brief moment that left me with a slight tremble to my hands. It was a short, innocent kiss that only mystified what we were. Our fingers were the last to part before I went upstairs alone.

Part 9

Translation notes:

(dut): kut - (eng): cunt

(dut): lieverd - (eng): darling

(dut): rotjoch - (eng): little shit/punk

(ger): gesundheit - (eng): bless you

(sp): entonces pregúntame, nena - (eng): then ask me, baby

(sp): vete - (eng): get out

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notmymainblog · 3 years

Note

Can you do a young sirius black x reader fic where the reader and sirius are dating and the reader has really bad depression and he finds out about

⭐I most certainly can! I hope you’re doing well, love. Mental health is a vital part of our lives. Regulating our emotions and coping in healthy ways is super important. For a list of ways to cope with mental illness(s), please see this Post.⭐

Master list

InteractiveFics

To use: Download obvi. Click the icon (upper right by the search bar) in the first box enter your name. If you did it correctly, y/n should read as your actual name. Under that, it will say something along the lines of “need to change something other than “y/n?” there you can change anything you want. ”y/h/c” and “y/h” don't work together, so please enter “y/ho” if you're inputting your Hogwarts house.

I’ll be using y/f/s as your favorite song, so please add that to InteractiveFics

Writing prompts for writer's block: “I’m begging you, please don’t lock yourself in your room.” & “You’d better put that knife down.”

Warnings: Swearing, lol, mentions of restricting (non-eating disordered), self-harm, depression, & anxiety.

Genre: Fluff (it’s not under sad because the ending is happy💕).

“The path out of hell is through misery. By refusing to accept the misery that is part of climbing out of hell, you fall back into hell.” -Marsha Linehan

“y/n,” Sirius groaned, “for Merlin’s sake, come to dinner,”

A soft “no” could be heard through the thick oak door of your y/ho dorm. It was met with an exasperated sigh from the other side.

“y/n, please. I don’t think I’ve seen you out of your dorm all weekend,” Sirius said.

“I don’t feel well, Siri, just go eat without me,” you said.

You weren’t exactly sure what spurred your depression, but it’s here now, and it was seriously (hehe, siriusly) fucking with you. Sleeping seemed to be your only hobby besides homework and wallowing in self-loathing. Dinner was scarce. It was hard to take care of yourself.

Brushing your teeth was hard, showering was hard, brushing your hair was hard, trying not to breakdown in a room full of people you just knew were looking and talking about you was hard. Not thinking you were worth anything was hard. Watching Sirius talking to other, prettier girls even just for a moment was really hard. It always made you doubt.

Life was pretty fucking shitty. ‘‘Fuck’’ was a pretty big word in your vocabulary. “fuck this shit,” “fuck you,” “fuck off,” and “fuck life” were some of your favorites.

It didn’t take a genius to recognize that you were down in the dumps, so Sirius spent most of his time trying to cheer you up. His efforts mostly consisted of dying Dumbledore’s beard, listening to your favorite songs, or just touching you any chance he got. Laying his head on your shoulder, holding hands, or crossing his foot under yours during dinner.

It was sweet that he wanted to help, and he was really giving it his all, but being around him just meant that you plastered on a grin and told him you were feeling “much better.”

“You’re magically sick every weekend y/n, just come with me. It’ll be quick, but you need to eat, babe,” he pleaded.

And so, you begrudgingly went down to dinner. The great hall was bright and noisy, the complete opposite of your dim, quiet room.

“y/n!” James grinned, “you came out of your cave!”

Remus elbowed him, “we’re happy to see you y/n.” he smiled.

You sat down and took a plate, putting whatever was in front of you on it and forcing the food down your throat. Your body was thankful, and you had forgotten how nice it was to eat and laugh with friends. Unfortunately, you felt like you were hit by a bus about two minutes later.

It’s too loud, too bright, you’re too tired, too anxious, they’re all looking at you, all trying to talk to you, and it’s overwhelming. You feel a hand on your arm, and it pushes you over the edge.

“I really, just can’t, um, I’m just,” you stuttered, “um yeah sorry, sick. Bye,”

You walked away quickly, nearly jogging.

“Jesus Christ, Sirius, what’d you do to her,” James said.

“What do you mean? It’s just her period,” he shrugged, “every year for a month,”

Remus put his head in his hands, “it’s once a month for a week. She’s depressed, Sirius. Are you that thick?”

James nodded along with Remus. He didn’t know anything about periods except that Lily punched him a lot more when she had hers.

Sirius looked up at Remus, “what do you mean depressed? She always says she feels better when we hang out,” he smiled triumphantly, “and she always smiles around me,”

“She’s faking it, Siri. She just doesn’t want you to worry. I’ll go comfort her, don’t worry about it,” Remus replied, getting up.

“No, no, no! I wanna do it! I’m her boyfriend, it’s my job to...to...what exactly should I do?” he trailed off.

It wasn’t that Sirius didn’t struggle with depression; it was that he had never had someone to comfort him. He couldn’t even imagine what he would need, let alone you.

As much as Remus wanted to tell Sirius to back off while he took care of it, he tried to help.

“fine,” Remus sighed and sat back down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty minutes later and it was back to square one.

“y/n open up! Please?” he said.

“No! Just go away!” you responded in-between small sobs.

“I’m begging you, please don’t lock yourself in your room.” he pleaded.

He heard shuffling before you slowly opened the door. Your eyes were puffy and watery, your sleeves were rolled up, and a knife was in your hand.

“What?” you mumbled.

He pushed the door open with little resistance. You stood to the side, looking down. Your room was pretty clean except for a pile of letters on your desk, a very messy bed, and your clothes were thrown everywhere.

He turned around to look at you. You were gorgeous. You were wearing the dress he loved. You braided your hair and put on some makeup. Next, he saw the letters piled on your desk. He looked over at you again as you sniffled.

His eyes watered, “oh my god, y/n. You were gonna...”

“Why do you care,” you interrupted, “nobody cares,”

“Honey, why would you think that?”

“I dunno... I just know,” you said, fiddling with the knife in your hands.

He sighed, “y/n you’d better put that knife down.” he threatened.

“Why?!” you shouted, “Why should I stay?!” your tears were hot. They blurred your vision.

“Because we need you y/n,” he said, “because we fucking love you and need you. What the fuck would we do without you y/n? Think about James and Lily and Remus (fuck Peter, my homies, and I hate Peter). Think about your mom and dad. Think about me. The wedding we wouldn’t get to have. I’d say kids, but you’ve made it very clear that childbirth isn’t for you,” he smiled weakly.

“and we can get a house. and a cat cause we already have a dog,” he said

“No, we don’t?” you said, confused.

“It’s me y/n I’m the dog,” he laughed, “you always call me ‘dog boy’ when you’re pissed off,”

He inched closer and eased the knife from your hands.

“There we go, honey, it’s okay now,” he soothed, “let’s get this out of here, huh?” he tucked it in his pocket, “we’re gonna put it away, and we’re not gonna hurt ourselves. we’re gonna stay nice and safe,” he stroked your cheek before giving you a soft kiss.

“That’s it. That’s my girl. It’s alright now, honey,” he wrapped his arms around you.

He hummed softly and led you over to the bed.

“You’re humming y/f/s?” you whispered.

He nodded, “I know it’s your favorite, princess,”

He muttered some spells as his wand traced your cuts. It felt like warm water washed over them. It kind of burned. His arms wrapped around you, and he pulled you to his chest.

“shh, that’s it, sweetie, just relax. Just lay with me,” he kissed the top of your head, “I am so proud of you for eating today.”

The praise made the corners of your lips turn up in a small smile.

“There’s a pretty smile, love,” he whispered, “there’s my y/n. You’re so perfect, honey. I love you so much y/n,” he said.

The next few weeks were spent slowly working your way up to eating at least two meals, brushing your teeth at least once, letting Sirius brush your hair (he loves brushing your hair so much oml), and talking to the four of them again. At first, it was just one of them every so often and then two, and before you knew it, you were comfortable having all four of them sat in your dorm.

And then you started heading down to the common room, to the marauders’ dorms, until you were sitting around the fire in the common room, laughing. You had been in the pit. You were sitting at the bottom of it, flipping off everyone who called down to you and wanted to help. It was hot in the pit. The ladder was hot.

So you decided to stay in the pit until one day, Sirius Black threw down a pair of oven mitts. This metaphorical pit was extremely real to you, and the ladder was really fucking hot, but the oven mitts helped, and when you climbed out of the pit, it was a beautiful sunny day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you may have noticed, y/n’s depression seems mild at first, and that's what happens irl. It's fine until you break open; it’s intense. So I tried to capture that.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius x you #sad fic #x reader #marauders era #harry potter #harry potter marauders #sad #depression #self harrrm #ily #staysafe #be careful #i love you

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tryslora · 3 years

Text

If I'm lucky, all errors have been caught before posting this year, and I have properly accounted for all variations needed for removing a leap year. Man, leap years are killer to deal with in terms of tracking down tiny changes to formulas! BUT. I think I actually did better this year than last year. Can we not discuss the things I screwed up? Anyway. I really did doublecheck pretty much everything that goes back to the Wordcount sheet.

ANYWAY.

For those who have been waiting for this spreadsheet, here it is! Sorry to be so late. For those who haven't seen this before, please take a look, use if you'd like, and share if you want to. All I ask is that if you make changes and spread the changed sheet around, please credit me as the original inspiration and link back to the original as well.

2021 Word Tracking Spreadsheet

Instructions and explanation are behind a cut/read more to save your feed/dash. This spreadsheet was developed because I found that it helped me keep myself moving forward from year to year, and I've been using it since 2012. I've been sharing it after folks asked what I was using to track my words, and it has evolved over the years into the version below. The instructions include screenshots from the 2021 spreadsheet and have finally been updated because a few things have changed. So. I guess I should update the instructions!

This spreadsheet was designed to allow you to set monthly goals for your writing, and easily track your words on different projects each day. It totals up your words for the day, your words for the month, and your words for the year. As you carry it along year to year, you can even track trends in your writing habits (for example, I’ve learned that I really suck at writing in May/June/July).

I’m going to go through this tab by tab to show you what’s what, and how to set yourself up and work daily.

We are actually going to begin with the second tab: Monthly Totals. This is where your totals are tracked, and where you set your goals. You can either set all your goals ahead of time, or month by month.

On this tab, you can fill in your pledges per month, and your goal for the year in the cells marked in grey. The monthly pledges (see column D) will transfer to other tabs as needed, and will be used to calculate a daily expected word count for each month. If you set an annual goal (you don’t have to!), you’ll be able to see how close you are to making that goal, and whether your pledges add up to the annual goal.

New: You can see your words to goal, and average needed per day to get to the goal.

You can see my usual pledges here. I've lowered my goals recently because I've found that around 500 words expected per day actually encourages me to make more, and doesn't make me feel bad if I make fewer.

The Actual column (B) is calculated automatically for you based on what you fill in on the Wordcount sheet, so let the spreadsheet do the work for you!

===

The next tab we need to take a look at is the first one. This is where you’ll be doing your work, on the tab titled Wordcount.

It may look complicated, but I swear it’s not! It calculates pretty much everything you need, as long as you just keep copying information from row to row.

It’s set up so it’ll work whether you start a brand new project of 0 words, or carry forward a WIP that had words before the new year started. All you have to do is put in the title, the purpose (fest, community, this is all just for your notes), and the due date, then put in your starting word count. When you add a new project, make sure to fill that starting word count (0 or otherwise) down through ALL the prior days so that your totals stay consistent. The way I do this in Excel is to select from the starting total down to the current date, then choose Fill Down. All rows MUST be filled in or else your words will go negative (see above, where the cell G6 has a value, even though the word count did not change that day).

When a day begins, it’s easy. Just copy down the prior day (except January 1st, just start with the one in place) by selecting from column F through the last column after your current WIP and then copy it down to the next row.

For example, if I were ready to start Jan 3rd, I select from F6 through I6 (one after my last project) and copy those cells down (I do it by using the little square in the bottom right to drag it down, but you do what's best for you.

When you finish working on a project, enter its current word count.

Now, let's take a closer look at what's above.

I started two projects on Jan 1st: Title and Title2

Title started with 0 words

Title2 came in from last year with 20 words already written

On January 1st, I recorded 100 words for Title and 1200 for Title2, and the sheet calculated that I wrote 1280 words that day

On January 2nd I didn't do anything on Title, but Title2 inreased to 1300 TOTAL words (NOT new words), so I added 100 words that day.

On January 3rd, I added Title3 with 0 words to start, and I made sure that every row in my new column showed those 0 words.

The sheet color codes for days where you are below target or above target in the Actual Words/Day column. It’ll be white on zero days. You can see at a glance your trends for writing.

It also marks projects that have been added to as green on that day in their column, which is nice if you do a weekly or monthly round up. Again, you can see at a glance which projects you've worked on, versus the ones still waiting.

When you finish a fic, simply hide the column (do not delete it). That’s why copying the entire row from F to after last down is important, so you copy the hidden columns too.

Some information about the other columns.

Target Total is where you hoped to be that year by that date. If you’re not there, don’t worry!! Zero days are OKAY and give yourself a chance to catch up another time. If you need to adjust your pledges, go do that on the Monthly Totals tab and everything will update.

The Daily Target is the total you are hoping to reach to stay on target toward the Monthly Pledge for that month–it’ll be different each month depending on what you pledge.

===

Now let’s move on to some of the fun tracking pieces. Next up are Daily Graph and Monthly Graph, which are exactly what they sound like. I’ll show examples from my 2017 spreadsheet (note, the daily graph will look very up and down–that’s OKAY! Again, let yourself have zero days…).

Daily Graph

Monthly Graph

Please note that the monthly graph has changed slightly. The pledged words are a line, but the actual words are now an area graph so you'll be able to see that fill in, and see your pledge as a line over it. That will give something good to look back on at the end of the year, but I don't have a new example yet!

===

There is a weird little blank tab for tracking AO3 stats, if you want to do so like I do. Feel free to modify as you need, based on your own person fandoms. I just carry data through from year to year so I can see how things change.

===

The last two tabs are my favorite! The Annual Comparison tab becomes useful after you’ve been using the spreadsheet more than a year, because by keeping track of totals year to year, you can start to see what your writing tendencies are. This tab has changed this year!

In the main data, I have added a Range (difference between the current month and the average) and a Median. In both cases, it won't calculate (just like the average) until you're actually in that month. Prior calculations are against the prior year's data.

Just copy in your data from prior spreadsheets, then let the new column for this year calculate on its own. No work needed once you've put in the old data!

Sample data included solely to be able to make it make sense. It won't be in the sheet you download.

The chart has changed! The area chart is your average across all your data. The colored lines are all the years. The current year is in black, with markers, to make it really stand out. So you can see both how you are doing against your prior years and your typical average per month.

And the last tab helps you track your progress toward your pledges. This tab is why I created the spreadsheet in the first place. I did NaNo back in 2011 and realized that being able to see my progress helped keep me writing. I like visuals! It lets me see at a glance how I’m progressing toward my goal each month.

You don't need to fill in a thing on this sheet! It pulls in the pledge from where you set it on the Monthly Totals tab, and calculates your wordcount based on that sheet, and does everything for you. Just sit back and enjoy the charts. Red columns are the expected totals, and blue will be your actual progress. You can see whether you're ahead or behind (and DON'T WORRY if you're behind, it is OKAY).

Yes, that’s my actual horrible progress December 2018. It was a rough month.

Anyway, that’s it! Hope you like it, and if you’ve used it before, thank you for coming back. Feel free to ask if you have any questions!

2021 Word Tracking Spreadsheet

#word tracker #spreadsheet #2021 word tracking spreadsheet #writing resources

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queen-susans-revenge · 2 years

Text

Star Wars Rebels season 3

"The Inside Job"

Okay so the Fade to Red chapter of this absolutely wrecked me. Which was a surprise, because I was not very emotionally bound up in the episode itself. It skates over/alludes to some really heavy stuff, sure, but my recap notes (under the cut) are mostly concerned with Chopper being unappreciated as usual. Whereas I was fully crying at the end of the fic.

I mean it's about death and bereavement, right? Some large degree of the whole show is unavoidably about that, although the individual episodes mostly manage to distract you with pew-pew and comedic B plots. But one of the whole points to fic is to delve into the stuff that canon skates over.

So, here's what happens in our kids' cartoon show:

Returning to Lothal in response to Ryder's request for aid, Kanan and Ezra find the populace locked down under Imperial tyranny. But they also see signs of resistance and sabotage.

Intelligence recieved from Fulcrum points to "a new type of weapon" being built on Lothal. The Rebels want to take out the Imperial factory but need more details on the threat. Accordingly Ezra, Kanan, and Chopper go undercover as factory workers...

...just in time for a surprise inspection from Grand Admiral Thrawn! He's noticed the sabotage. Kallus and Pryce are on hand as well.

Thrawn institutes a new "the assembly workers will test their own craftsmanship" policy, effective retroactively, and Ezra's old neighbor Morad Sumar gets blown up in front of him.

This is a difficult scene because Ezra--and Kanan--have every reason to know exactly what's about to happen and they do nothing to stop it. I mean, we all know that if it was one of the Spectres on that bike Ezra would have found a way to cause a distraction and stop the execution. But perhaps because he's there with Kanan, he doesn't act; and Kanan holds him back, afterwards.

So I guess the Force is whispering in their ears. "This guy's not really important in the big scheme of things, keep your cool." That's ice cold, midichlorians. Anyway Ezra and Kanan don't blow their cover, but the whole factory's in lockdown while Thrawn completes his inspections, and they almost get busted for shitty fake IDs.

You know who does a great job of causing a distraction that saves the others? Chopper. Does he get so much as an attaboy for it? No.

Just digressing on the subject of Chopper for a moment, you can tell Hera deserves to be team leader because she is the only one who truly appreciates Chopper. Well, Sabine and Chopper seem cool with each other too. I'm pretty sure Sabine said something like "Great job, Chop!" ONE TIME shortly after she first came aboard and she's experienced zero problems with him ever after that.

So the next step of the plan involves slipping into the restricted section, and guess who's gonna do that too? Chopper. "Then all he has to do is find the design database and download everything!" Ezra chirps. Oh, is that all?

Nobody even asks Chopper, but of course he's ready to ride. "Make it fast, Chop," Ezra orders, and I sincerely hope that C1-10P's whump. whump-WHUMP response translates from binary to "shut the fuck up kid."

In his Art Cave, Thrawn is creepily pondering Sabine's starbird grafitti and closing in on tracking Ezra and Kanan's movements in the factory. Kallus is forced to intervene, dragging the pair into a turbolift and revealing himself as Fulcrum.

Our Jedi pair find this hard to swallow. "Your friend Zeb trusted me on the ice moon," Kallus pleads. "I saved Sabine Wren at the fighter academy, and now I'm trying to save you. But you have to trust me!" Chopper jumps in with some encouraging noises (sounds a little like waboo! waboo!), which Kallus seizes on: "Your droid trusts me!"

"Yeah, that's not a good thing," Ezra smarms. Shut the fuck up kid. This droid has saved your life countless times including FIVE MINUTES AGO.

So you can imagine how much I love the next scene, where Kallus offers the access codes Chopper will need to download the data they're after, and Chop grunts something that clearly translates to "nah I already got it."

Kallus, not a dummy, is the type to notice things like that. "He doesn't need them? This C1 of yours is quite efficient." And at this Chopper THROWS HIS GRAPPLING ARMS IN THE AIR, twisting from side to side in astonishment at having received some actual appreciation and praise.

"Figures Chop'd get along with an Imperial spy," Ezra grumbles. And Chopper says... well, we'll never know, but I'm pretty sure it involved explaining exactly where Ezra would be right now without all of Chopper's help.

Or maybe it was just: Shut the fuck up, kid.

There is a genuinely funny gag where Kanan and Ezra bicker over who gets to "convincingly" rough Kallus up, before we get to the shooty-shooty, runny-runny, and 'splody-'splody parts of tonight's entertainment. The Jedi steal a couple of walkers and shoot their way out of the factory, before getting a pickup from Ryder's crew.

They do have to tell Sumar's wife (Wookieepedia tells me her name is Marida) to her face that he didn't make it out. So, ouch.

Hera and Sabine go over the data Chopper brought back, and learn the Empire is going to be manufacturing a new kind of TIE interceptor, with shields.

And maybe more importantly, Zeb learns that Kallus has switched sides BECAUSE OF THEIR LUUUHRRRVE FRIENDSHIP awwwh so sweet. But Thrawn is very much onto Kallus, so Zeb's new boyfriend is probably in trouble.

#star wars rebels

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Attached - Bonus

Words Read After the Lights-Out

Type: (mini)-series, college AU, professor AU (technically)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 5500

Summary: Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Time apart is usually unpleasant and this time wasn’t as exception. With messed-up sleep schedule, Steve helps himself with one of your writing he knows you finished. Will it help him fall asleep?

Warnings: smut, 18+, nsfw, semi-public masturbation, oral (fem receiving), PIV, hints of dom/sub, and fluff… and language (always)

A/N: @donutloverxo is ‘bad’ influence on me. Hopefully it will make up for me still not participating in the wonderful weekly challenge.

So here. Have a tiny bit more of smut and then I’m done with it. I am not a smut writer, no, no, no, no… but yeah, I had plenty of fun with this. It’s smut in a fluffy wrapping, because of course it is. I’m me. So, enjoy?

(Also, I copied the start of reader’s fic from the epilogue, so just you’re not surprised)

Story masterlist

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Steve knew he had permission – a half-heartedly mumbled one, somewhere between consciousness and drifting to sleep, but still a permission –, yet he felt a bit dirty.

He had printed the pages few days ago before he left, knowing you finished the story for now named ‘the second encounter with Professor R’, morbidly curious, but hesitant to dive in. These were still your writings, your imaginations and they might have concerned him, but they were still very intimate. And he wasn’t just thinking sexual intimacy – it was simply something coming from the very depth of your mind and Steve honest to god didn’t want to invade your privacy.

However, he had asked if you’d mind if he read what you had written, and you said no. He had asked if he could read it then – and you said yeah.

Here. Permission. Clear as day. And you had left your laptop open, still logged in, as if in invitation. So he had downloaded it and printed it out.

And now he was watching you lying on your stomach, hugging the pillow that was very much on his side of the bed as if you wished you were cuddling him instead and Steve didn’t crave anything but sliding beside you and pulling you to his side.

The problem was that he had been to a conference on the other side of the country and he nodded off on the plane and not even the long shower made him relax properly. And the last thing he wanted was to wake you up, because the last time you Facetimed, you looked like you could sleep for a year.

Steve knew that the fact he had left you alone for the first time since the rumours started that you two were together and it was no surprise that facing the vultures without the possibility to find solace in each other’s arms was taking its toll on you – he wouldn’t like it either. You wouldn’t admit it to him; you kept the distress about it to yourself, not wanting to burden him. The bed was lonely without him, you had said instead, a claim no doubt true as well – and boy, could Steve relate to that.

So now he fished out the few pages and settled at the desk, only the dim light revealing your words to him, as if they were something that indeed should remain a secret.

Steve spent one more glance at your sleeping form, serene, your lips parted as you softly breathed into the pillow, eyes closed, eyelashes casting weak shadows over your cheeks with the little lamp on and Steve couldn’t stop the corners of his lips rising. You were beautiful and his, lying in his bed, practically begging for him to come and take you to his arms.

Steve promised himself that once he would finish reading, hopefully tire his eyes for a bit, he would do exactly that – falling into a blissful sleep with you in his embrace.

He should have known better, really. He should have known that your story would do everything but lull him to sleep.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Your pen was half-heartedly scribbling on the paper, your brain not quite registering the words coming from his mouth.

You weren’t prepared for a damn history lecture; mostly because when you knocked on the door of the professor’s office, you did not expected to find him not alone; his colleague, the grumpy old idiot, was sitting at his desk, making nots from a book which you probably wouldn’t even be able to lift with how thick it was.

Speaking of thick things… one was meant to be between your legs now, but no, the other prof just had to sit there third-wheeling and cock-blocking—dammit.

Now here you were, sitting opposite to Professor Rogers at his desk, pretending to be taking notes while he kindly filled in your missing knowledge, talking about god knew what.

His voice was a balm to your ears, deep timbre echoing in your ribcage, stirring heat in your abdomen. His voice did things to you no matter what words he spoke and from what distance, but you much rather had him whispering filthy suggestions to your ear, teeth grazing your skin, praises for all the things you allowed him to do to you, with his fingers, with his tongue, with his-

“Miss Clark!” Professor Rogers snapped all of sudden, voice stern and minutely louder than before. Your head snapped to him at instant, meeting his intense glare and a raised eyebrow. “Do I need to remind you that you were the one who expressed a supposedly genuine endeavour to earn your credit? If you could take notes instead of…” he eyed your wannabe notes with the scepticism they deserved “-doodling, that would be splendid.”

The smirk on his lips gave him away as he met your gaze, rising from his seat pointedly.

“Yes, Professor Rogers,” you said meekly, speeding up the circles and other random motions with your hand. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered off, I got lost in your narrative. It won’t happen again.”

You were so full of shit, because the only thing you got lost in was your own imagination, unholy pictures filling your impatient brain. Professor Rogers certainly knew that too – but he kept the front up for his colleague who just couldn’t seem to leave the damn room if even for a minute.

“It better not,” Professor Roberts commented gruffly, circling the hardwood desk slowly, fingers tracing the top of what he was meant to be fucking you against shall your fantasy come true any time soon. You shifted in your seat, feeling slickness gathering between your lower lips in anticipation. “As I was saying, the battle of Stalingrad…”

A sudden thought struck you when he stood beside you; for the first time in the past hour, you actually wrote something down instead of drawing random patterns.

Professor Rogers looked over your shoulder, reading the line about Professor Banks being a pain in your ass and you going crazy with need for your tutor’s cock. Peripherally, you saw Professor Rogers’ hand curl up in a fist, one corner of your lips rising in a smirk.

If you were to suffer, then so could he. It was a bold move, bratty even, one he might punish you for, but you were willing to take the risk, even feeling a tingle in your abdomen at the premise. Would he punish you? How? Were you in for some impatient manhandling today?

Caught up in your musings, you nearly jumped when his hot breath caressed your ear, a whispered promise causing air to get stuck in your throat, your heart speeding up insanely in your chest.

“Patience. Once he’s gone I’m gonna bend you over this desk…”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your mind supplying you with a helpful visual. You could almost feel his hand stroking the back of your thighs, the curve of your ass over your skin-tight dress, your lower back, and roughly pushing between your shoulder blades to trap you against the desk.

“…the German offensive to capture Stalingrad began in August 1942, using the 6th Army and elements of the 4th Panzer Army. The attack was supported by intense Luftwaffe bombing that reduced much of the city to rubble,” he continued the lecture as he straightened again, as if he hadn’t just vowed to get freaky with you.

His hand grazed the back of your chair, painfully close and still so far, moving to your other side, the heat of his body once again teasing you, his mouth an inch from your skin.

“…and fuck you ‘till you can’t walk…”

Your breathing picked up, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, the urge to lick your lips stronger than you. You glanced in Professor Banks’ direction, but there was no way he could hear what his colleague was whispering to your ear, the filthy promises made in between lecturing you about one of the biggest and most important battles of WW II. How could Professor Rogers even focus-

“You certainly have to write this down, Miss Clark—November 19, the Red Army launched Operation Uranus, a two-pronged attack targeting the weaker Romanian and Hungarian armies protecting the 6th Army's flanks.”

“… and ‘till the only thing you remember from this session is my name...”

You couldn’t even make out the words he spoke on normal volume anymore. Your fingers gripped the pen, the echo of sensations from the last week that had haunted you for days ghosting over your skin, your lips, your-

“…and how good my cock feels in your cunt.”

As if on command, your core clenched around nothing, the desperate craving to relieve some of the gradually building desire causing your thighs to rub together on instinct, hoping to create some friction at least. You could imagine Professor Rogers’ pupils dilating at that, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as one simple sentence of yours backfired unexpectedly.

His lips actually brushed over the shell of your ear with his next words, making you suck in air in a sharp inhale.

“You better get yourself ready, ‘cause I won’t waste any time with that.”

You blinked furiously at the statement, your head once again snapping to the other man in the room, who could turn to you any moment, catching you red-handed if you actually went through with it.

No way, no fucking w-

“Did I stutter, Miss Clark?” Professor Rogers hissed irritably and you dared to look at him, shocked to see a wolfish smile, a hungry glint in his eye that filled your stomach with butterflies, causing you to practically drip into the fabric of your dress.

“No, Professor Rogers,” you whispered obediently, your mind racing as you couldn’t make yourself to slip your hand under and just… listen to the command. “I understood.”

He held your gaze as he stepped to your right to partly shield you from view.

Be a good girl, he mouthed, sending a pleasant shudder down your spine, your pussy weeping for him, something inside you begging for you to obey just so you could hear him say it out loud later.

“Then we shall continue. At the beginning of February 1943, the Axis forces in Stalingrad…”

You inhaled shakily, your hand trembling a little as you let it fall from the top of the table, landing on your leg instead, your thumb grazing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.

Professor Rogers’ eyebrows jumped a fraction, his chin motioning for you to go on, his eyes dark and lustful like a night.

Not daring to cast a single glance at the other man, because he would only make you lose your nerve, you moved your hand under the hem of your dress which was slightly below your mid-thigh, fingers trailing up until they reached the very high thigh-highs you were wearing.

“You seem to be forgetting to take notes, Miss Clark, my patience is truly wearing thin. Let’s move to another battle which was critical for the development of the war, the battle of Bulge…”

The words fell on deaf ears. All you could hear was the pounding of your own heart as your fingers slid right into the slickness pooled at your core; just like he had asked a week ago, there was nothing in the way, no underwear. You nearly whimpered when the tips of your fingers touched your opening, the barely-there contact blissful and yet torturous as you craved so much more.

You could feel his gaze on you, studying every quickened rise and fall of your chest, every single motion of the tendons in your forearm and thighs, flexing when your thumb circled your aching swollen clit, your eyes sliding shut at the tingle that ran through your nerve endings, your forefinger dipping into your cunt. You bit on your lip to stop yourself from releasing the whimper threatening to spill from your lips.

His stupid talk, momentarily empty promises, his voice on your ear, his lips brushing your skin, the light pressure on your clit, the finger moving slowly inside you— it all felt amazing, way too good considering that you knew you weren’t alone, but by God, did it add a tiny bit of a thrill, causing your heart to flutter, your core to burn.

You could still hear Professor Rogers talking, not one of his words registering until his fingertip grazed your collarbone, a breath of ‘such a good girl’ caressing your ear. You gulped, feeling your pussy clench, a shudder running down your spine.

“Go on, make yourself feel good. Add another.”

You had no idea how he knew what you were doing under the fabric, but he retreated again, to talk armies and bloodshed and all you could think off was being the good girl he had proclaimed you, worrying your teeth over your lips strongly enough to draw blood almost, third finger slipping into your heat. Your eyes fluttered open at the sensation, gaze stubbornly fixing on Professor Rogers’ chair, your breathing shallow and quick as you felt the pressure building.

Your mind was turning hazy as you tried to comprehend whether you liked the presence of the unsuspecting professor or were ashamed doing this while he was right there. You massaged your inner walls slowly, carefully despite how much you needed the release at this point, barely moving in or out in the fright of making noise. Your head spun, your thighs trembling softly with your climax nearing, the pleasure on horizon setting your blood on fire.

And then there was a pinch to your shoulder, nearly making you yelp in surprise—but somehow, even in the fog your brain was in, you understood that it was an order to stop and your hand instantly disappeared, curling into a fist on your thigh.

You tried your best to stop the shaking, to ignore the slickness on your fingers, now hopefully hidden in your palm and not on display – and peripherally, you could see Professor Banks rise to his feet, picking up items from his desk.

Your heart was beating its way out of your chest, air caught in your lungs as you attempted to calm yourself just in case he would look at you. As if your sex wasn’t practically pulsing because of the abrupt neglect, so so close to the release you craved.

In a sudden clarity of mind, you swiftly took fresh paper and set in on top of your ‘notes’ and gripped the pen again, seemingly ready to continue writing down important dates and names. You heard Banks steps nearing and you instinctively looked up. You had no idea what face you made, because you had zero control over your mimic muscles, too busy trying not to spontaneously combust.

Whatever he read from your expression, it made him eye his colleague.

“Don’t keep her for much longer, Steven. I’m sure she deserves some fun today too,” the older professor remarked, shooting you an uncharacteristic smile and walked out of the office, his old-fashioned leather case swinging. Professor Rogers’ ‘Don’t worry, Bradley,’ followed him and finally, the door clicked shut behind him, allowing you to release an exhale.

“He has no fucking idea,” you muttered, tossing the damn pen aside, running a hand down your face, while your other one remained curled up in a tight fist.

“Shut you dirty mouth, babygirl,” Professor Rogers hissed, crossing the distance to the door in few long strides, glancing at Banks’ desk to make sure that the man hadn’t forgotten anything he could come back for, and only then locked.

The next thing you knew, you were on your feet, the edge of the hardwood desk digging into your ass, your wrists pinned by his hands.

Your breath was stolen by his mouth, lips taking yours, warm, sweet, soft and demanding, a hungry kiss that had no end, one of your wrists suddenly free as his fingers curled around your nape, tangling in your hair, pushing and pulling, just to get more of you. You submitted easily, gratefully even, blissed out at the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth, taking everything he wanted.

You gasped for air when he withdrew, his forehead resting against yours for a split moment, his touch on you almost tender now, more so when he brought your wrist to his mouth and left a brief kiss on your knuckles, inhaling deeply, causing your face heat up.

“So obedient, such good girl,” he whispered in a husky voice, thick with arousal, and you could swear you were about to burst. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

You were caught between embarrassed and aroused when he pried your fingers open, his tongue tasting your drying juices. Your core clenched in need and as if he could feel it, his hips rutted into yours, his own excitement evident as his cock poked your lower stomach, his mouth once again on yours, your hand trapped between your bodies, his fingers gripping your sides tightly.

“I promised you something, didn’t I?” he mumbled to your mouth.

Recalling just what a vow he had made you with the other man still present, you gladly let him spin you around, manoeuvre you to press your front to his desk with no regard for the notes scattered over it. You instantly missed the warmth of his body, but his hands went to knead the flash of your ass, one sliding to your lower back, the other hiking up your dress.

A groan escaped him at the sight of you bared for him, his foot nudging yours apart, his grip on you tightening, fingers digging into your flesh enough to bruise before they slid lower, dipping into your slickness. His fingertips spread it, circling your clit, nearly causing your knees to buckle at the shot of bliss sent through your veins. A pathetic mewl fell from your lips and you could only imagine the indulgent smile on his face.

“God, look at you, so pretty, so ready for me,” he praised, fingers tracing the lace of your thigh-highs. “I really like these. Good choice…. Hold on tight, babygirl.”

You wasted no time and listened to him, grabbing the edge of the desk as his touch disappeared. You closed your eyes, anticipation building when you heard the tell-tale of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you again and as wrong or right as it was, you couldn’t help yourself, missing him. You knew things weren’t as simple as they could be seen – you noticed the little things, unnecessary tenderness peeking through, showing you that you were more than just a mindless fuck.

His warm palms spread your cheeks almost lovingly, slightly guiding you up so you stood on your tiptoes, bracing on the hardwood desk, so close to beg for him to finally fill you up, so con-

“Oh my-“ you cried out, your thighs clenching when instead of his hard cock nudging your slit, a velvety-soft warmth licked at your opening, eager and hungry, wasting no time and opening you further, the tip of his tongue pushing in, his lips sucking every drop you offered. Blood rushed to your head and to your centre, fingertips tingling, your most sensitive parts feeling like on fire. His beard was a stark contrast to the softness of his tongue, rough sensation making you dizzy. “Prof-“

His fingers applied pressure on your clit again, the circling motions making your head spin, your thighs shake again with the intensity of the approaching orgasm as professor Rogers fucked you with his tongue relentlessly, reaching even deeper, flicking his tongue and driving you absolutely crazy with pleasure.

A cry ripped from your throat as your climax shook your whole world, knees giving out, your fingers weakly clutching at the edge of the desk, your body slack against the wood. And he didn’t stop. He helped you ride it out with vigour, humming against your cunt, sending aftershocks through your veins. Only when he stopped, you felt you could finally breathe— his mouth moved just a fraction, a sting on your inner thigh as he sucked a mark of possession, one he kissed afterwards; even in your haze, a soft warmth enveloped your heart. Not a mindless fuck.

“Sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t help myself…” he muttered to your skin, stroking, squeezing, kissing, moving up and whispering to your hair. Did he just apologize…? “You’re even sweeter than I hoped.”

Your heart fluttered, your hand blindly finding his as it still clutched on your waist. He didn’t retreat, gently squeezing back, knocking the breath out of you when he simultaneously entered you, his whole length in one swift motion, sinking so easily into your weeping cunt.

Professor Rogers moaned as you gasped, your core instinctively clenching around him.

“So tight… so good-“

His hands moved to your hips, his cock driving in and out, slowly at first, letting you feel every inch, his thick member stretching you pleasantly after such delicious preparation.

“Professor Rogers,” you gasped when he hit the right spot, his grip tightening.

“That it, babygirl?” he teased, purposely changing the angle, barely brushing your g-spot with his next thrust. You couldn’t help the mewl of frustration, attempting to shift and help yourself, only to meet with the steely hold he had on you. “Ah-ah, none of that, babygirl… you want more? Want me to make good on my promise?”

You really wanted to sneer at him, to snap, but—God, he moved so right the next moment, giving you another taste of the delicious sensation and you nodded fiercely, only for him to still in his movements, thumbs drawing a circle on your skin.

“Yes,” you voiced your request then, earning a satisfied hum and a tap of his fingers. Words are good, now do better, you almost heard him say and you clenched your jaw in frustration. For God’s sake- “Yes, please.”

“Please what?” he urged you as he rolled his hips lazily, dragging his cock alongside your walls so painfully slow.

You sighed, rocking yours hips just a bit – vainly, again.

“Please, fuck me against the desk… Professor Rogers.”

It worked like a charm, a kiss landing between your clothed shoulder blades.

“Good girl,” he hummed, the praise giving you as much joy as it did to him, apparently. “Brace yourself, sweetheart, I’m not holding back on you. I waited long enough…”

And that he did; the lecture had been a torture until it changed into a different kind of-

The half-unpleasant memory vanished from your mind, quickly replaced by the sensation of his length filling you up again, and again, again, speeding up, angling his hips so he finally hit the spot you craved to have stimulated, driving in and out with force that made you see stars, sharp gasps escaping your lips with each thrust.

You clutched at the table, unable to hold still, trying to meet him halfway, adding to the pleasure that had tears gathering behind your closed eyelids.

“Shit, I’m gonna-“ he groaned and freed one of his hands in favour to take you with him, playing with your clit and making you moan his name as the coil in your abdomen snapped again, causing you clench around him. It tipped him over the edge and you felt him spill into you, some of his seed tickling your opening as he rode his climax out.

You were both breathing heavily as his body laid over yours, the sweat gathering on your forehead and back be damned. You melted into the comfort his weight offered, pleasantly surprised when one of his hands found yours, still on the edge of the desk, fingers interlacing, a wet sloppy kiss landing on the side of your neck.

You could feel him soften inside you, a new sensation that felt strangely intimate, and yet he stayed a little longer.

“Stay right here, babygirl,” he rasped out, the warmth of him disappearing as he stood up fully and pulled out.

You obeyed despite not being sure what was about to happen… your first thought was a photo and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

However, your first thought was wrong.

You heard rustle as he pulled out a wet-wipe, a sharp exhale following – warming it up, you realized later – and then he carefully cleaned you up, soft and wary of how sensitive you were, his mission ending with a brief kiss on the spot where the bitemark was probably already blooming.

“You can get up,” he encouraged you, standing by your side, hands hovering as if ready to catch you.

Now your head spun for a whole different reason. What the hell was happening? What was he doing? What did this mean? You weren’t about to complain in the slightest, but… what.

Professor Rogers was observing you wordlessly, intense gaze you couldn’t hope to understand and you couldn’t help the shame warming up your cheeks, knowing that even with waterproof mascara and quality lipstick, you were far from looking perfect – and still, he appeared to be feasting his eyes on you.

Before you could try and fix it, he caught your hand halfway to your face, planting a kiss on your wrist and reaching for another tissue, taking care of it himself.

You were rendered speechless, eyes wide, lips parted as his own spread in a gentle smile, gaze almost fond as his thumb caressed your cheek.

“Pretty girl,” was all he said, a kiss landing on your forehead, causing your breath to hitch, your eyelashes fluttering as you blinked several times, unable to comprehend.

You were too stunned to say a single word, frozen on spot and yet you could feel your bones melting under his gaze, still unwavering, focused, boring into yours.

Neither of you made an attempt to move – neither of your reached for your handbag so you could be on your way. You just stood there in silence, lost in how incredibly handsome, beautiful he was up-close, finally having time to fully appreciate it – and with the softness of his features, you felt yourself fall for him, caught in the safety net of his kind eyes.

Your mouth opened uselessly and the pad of thumb moved to run over your lips, ending up in the corner of your mouth, raising it in a lopsided smile.

“You called me my first name,” he whispered, effectively bursting your blissful bubble and invading it with horror.

Oh god, you had? When—oh. Oh. Now you recalled it, a tiny bit horrified that you actually called him ‘Steve’ when reaching your peak.

“I’m sor-“

He shook his head and before you could finish, he pulled you in for another kiss, slow, deep and meaningful, his arm curling around your waist as if he couldn’t get you close enough and once again, you weren’t about to complain, placing one palm on his shoulder, the other on the side of his neck instead.

“I liked it,” he breathed to your mouth, pecking your lips once more before releasing you. “I’ll see you next week, Miss Clark.”

You nodded automatically, still stunned by the whole turn of events and accepted the handbag he gently handed you.

“…thanks,” you muttered and let him lead you out of the office.

When he unlocked the door, you readjusted your dress, making sure that in any normal circumstances people could see the lack of your underwear; what a reminder of Professor Rogers – Steve – being no less kinky than the first time, no matter how his demeanour now. You glanced at his face again and lost all remnants of sanity.

You placed your hand on his broad impressive bicep and dropped a light kiss on his cheek, enjoying the tickle of his beard once more.

“I’ll see you,” you echoed his words, meeting his twinkling eyes before walking out of the door.

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Steve had to blink several times as he finished reading, trying to get a grasp on reality again, the words and images still swimming in front of his eyes. He needed few moments to process what he just read for more than one reason; he certainly didn’t feel sleepy as he had naively hoped.

He found the story hot, yeah, he wasn’t kidding himself, he was rock hard and aching, but what took him aback greatly and rendered him speechless was the sentiment. The shift in the relationship, the parts of Steve you got to know that you had implemented into the story with ease, the story in which ‘Miss Clark’ was surprised by the professor’s affection.

Steve read in the words the same astonishment and tender awe he saw in your eyes when you first exchanged ‘I love you’, after he had read the very start of this story for the first time and told you that he loved your mind as well.

Even when he glanced at your form now, so tempting in his bed, practically begging for him to satiate the hunger that your words spurred, it was impossible to ignore the warmth in his chest, his heart suddenly feeling too big for his ribcage.

Delicately placing the pages down, he turned off the lamp and carefully made his way to you, the mattress dipping under his weight, the motion drawing an adorable but barely audible whimper from you. Steve smiled for himself and slid beside you, curling his arms around your form and pulling you to his chest as much as he could without poking you with his hard-on, having decided to ignore it until it went away. He just-- honestly, he wouldn’t say no, but just holding you would suffice tonight.

You melted into his body so trustingly and naturally it made his heart ache and sing at the same time—God, he loved you. Then, as your mind registered that he was technically not supposed to be there, your form stiffened before pressing into him further, curling in his embrace, allowing him to nuzzle his nose in your hair.

“Hi,” you greeted him sleepily, but no less sweetly.

Steve dropped a kiss to the back of your head, his smile widening. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m okay, I’m glad to be home and you can go back to sleep.”

“Mm-mm, thanks for the report.”

You turned your head to catch his lips in a welcome kiss, one Steve wouldn’t refuse in a million years; sleepy, a bit sloppy, but one that tasted like home. Yours. And with both of you smiling into it.

“Welcome back. I missed you.”

He brushed the strand of your hair from your face, kissing you once more at your admission.

“Missed you more.”

Your grin only widened when you rolled over to him fully, tangling your limbs with his and accidently – possibly on purpose – brushing his erection with your thigh. He hissed despite himself and he would swear he could see a glint of mischief in your eyes despite the lack of light in the room.

“Oh, I see how it is, you missed me,” you giggled adorably and Steve couldn’t bring himself to be exasperated at you breaking the magic of the moment. And he certainly didn’t feel like telling you what exactly got him into this state – at least not now.

“Not just like that,” he grumbled and you giggled once more, finding his lips with yours, your hand surprisingly moving to rest on his chest, right over his heart, rather than heading down his torso.

“I’m hopeful,” you whispered, looking up at him from under your eyelashes and even in the dark, Steve felt his heart stutter. God, you were beautiful. Breath-taking. His. “But we should take care of this.”

Your hand slid considerably lower, giving some attention to his aching hard-on, softly curling your fingers around it and stroking and his resolve was slowly – very quickly – turning non-existent.

“I didn’t want to wake you at all. You need to sleep-“ he tried out weakly and you eyed him again, kissing his sternum, still smiling.

“Don’t feel sleepy. And I missed you too. In all the ways possible. I want to feel you, Steve.”

And fuck, he was lost. To your hands, to your lips, to your voice – when did it grow so sultry? –, to the smell of your shampoo and bodywash and your skin and to your damn face he couldn’t even see properly.

“Hey,” he mumbled in a spur of the moment, catching your hand to still your delicate strokes before they clouded his mind completely.

You blinked in an understandable surprise; but he had an important thing to say, simultaneously making a mental note to emphasize it again when telling you he read the second story too.

“Wha-“

“I truly missed you, sweetheart. I love you.”

Your surprise melted into something much softer and Steve couldn’t but meet your lips again, catching a glimpse of that same awe he marvelled at when reading. Your fingers in his hair were an epitome of bliss as you kissed him back with care.

“I love you too, Steve. So much…” you vowed and then there were no more words needed.

Steve devoured your lips, your body, revelling in every soft sigh of his name. And soon worn out after you both tipped over the edge, you fell asleep, tucked under the covers in his arms, the pair of you finally sleeping soundly again after being apart.

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‘One-shot’ Hurtful Words part 1

S.R. masterlist

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Thank you for reading :-*

I felt like I owe it to you, to them and to myself after the story she was writing didn’t get to be read (Steve caught her writing it). I hope you enjoyed :)

I’m thinking one more one-shot, maybe, will see how it goes, I’ll be pretty busy from the next week, so...

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