#but i will answer to everyone who sent me stuff because i appreciate it beyond words

[a-s-levynn]

Tiny Token wishes to offer their deepest affections to everyone who desires to receive it on this day of celebration of love

[purrincess-chat]

In honor of this fine April month, what are your favorite things about Adrinette?

So

This ask is like 2-3 years old I think, but I never forgot about it. I just needed time to assemble my thoughts, and I think now is the best time to answer it because hooooo how far they've come since this ask was sent.

I'm going to break this up into sub-categories so that it's not 8 pages of me just rambling about how cute they are, though I will probably still ramble a lot about how cute they are. But we're going to look at the entire span of their relationship from Origins through Revelation in s5. So, if you haven't watched the out of order episodes from s5 or are waiting for everything to air before you watch, this is your spoiler warning. Let's get into it.

Enemies speedrun

We all love a good enemies-to-lovers story. There's just something inherently satisfying about seeing two people go from hating each other to falling in love. One aspect of their relationship that I appreciate is that sparks didn't fly immediately when they met as civilians. It's not a true enemies-to-lovers, more of a speedrun if you will, because Marinette did lowkey kind of hate him at first. It wasn't until she realized there had been a misunderstanding and saw Adrien's true character that she fell in love with him.

Y’all know the umbrella scene has me in a chokehold always and always will because that moment is just imprinted into my brain. The moment when she truly sees him. Not a marketing image or magazine cover. Not a spoiled rich boy that's friends with her bully. Him. She sees his vulnerability, his desire to be accepted, his kindness. That's what she falls in love with. That was the moment when Adrinette became my favorite side because it was just so raw and genuine and beautifully crafted, and I think that moment has only become more impactful as their relationship has progressed. To see two people who started off at odds, even for a short time, grow to love each other so much is just *chefs kiss*

Seeing beyond the mask

Another thing I love is how Marinette has always been the person to see Adrien for more than what is presented. Yes, she spends a lot of time ogling over his pictures in magazines throughout the show, which some people seem to think is a cardinal sin because how dare a teenage girl think the boy she likes is hot apparently, but when push comes to shove, she has always been the one to look deeper. The umbrella scene is the first instance of that. From the beginning, people wrote him off as being a rich daddy's boy model. Alya literally calls him as such in Origins. They make assumptions based off of his image/status. The difference is Marinette eventually sees past it, and she continues to see past it.

And I know some people are going to say, "What about Nino?" But Nino has taken a huge step back since s1 when it comes to their friendship. Yes, Nino is the first person to give him a chance, but any other time he just waves stuff related to him away. Oh, his dad said he can't come? Oh well. Everyone, including Nino, always writes Marinette off when she's worried about him as Marinette just being Marinette, but she has always seen more than other people when it comes to him. And that's no shade to Nino or saying Nino isn't still his best friend because Nino has tried and failed to help Adrien before. He understands Adrien's life is complicated, but he doesn't think anything more than that. (that we have seen on screen anyway) It's a winless fight that can't be helped.

Marinette always pushes further, like in the NY special when everyone is like oh, Gabriel doesn’t want Adrien to come to NY, what a shame, and Marinette is like I will fight that man myself if I have to, and she does. People have mixed feelings about the canon-ness of the Specials, but I deeply appreciate the Adrinette we got in the NY special, even if it was angsty in the end. I love when Adrien expresses his gratitude to her for sticking up for him because it’s truthfully the first time he’s really gotten to see it happen out of all the times she’s stuck her neck out for him. I think that moment aided his confession in Risk because Adrien feels like he can confide in her and be understood rather than dismissed. Because why should the rich boy complain about having nice things and money and girls falling all over him and getting to travel the world? But Marinette pays attention to him, not just the shiny filter everyone else sees. He's unhappy, and she sees that when all of their other friends don't.

Season 5 has given us a lot of insight into Adrien's home life and how he feels about it. A key moment I think a lot of people have glossed over is in Transmission when he tells Marinette that the Adrien most people know is just a marketing image, and how the two of them can be different. He is inviting her into his world that other people have only scratched the surface of, and as their relationship progresses, she gets to see how thin the glamour really is. I know her speech in Emotion went to the wrong person, but the message still rings true. She doesn't think less of him for being trapped and doing what his father asks. She knows he doesn't have another option and feels stuck, and she wants him to know that she loves him and will always be there for him until they figure it out together.

Another key moment along that same vein is when Marinette goes to talk to Gabriel about their relationship after Emotion, and they have the pancake conversation. Gabriel literally offers her fame and fortune, a successful career in the business she's always wanted. He could hand that to her, but she says no. She sees beyond the shiny glimmer Gabriel presents to the rest of the world, and she values Adrien more than anything. That whole scene where she fights back and disobeys Gabriel's order to find Adrien and tell him it will be alright shows how deeply integrated she's become in his life. She doesn't care if it's hard. She wants to fight the dragon with him, and she's not giving up until they can have their happily ever after. I just think their whole narrative where Marinette is the knight fighting to save the prince is incredibly sweet, and it makes me want to root for them. They're made for each other because they fight for each other and see sides of each other that no one else sees, and I think that's beautiful.

Learning how to love

I absolutely love the way they’re approaching their relationship this season, and how we can see the impact of Adrien’s past loves in the way he approaches her. With Kagami he wasn't decided enough. With Ladybug he was too decided. I've talked about how Glaciator 2 completely changed things for him before, so I won't rehash that too much, but we can see it in the way he approaches Marinette gently and patiently this season. He doesn't push his feelings onto her or demand that she hurry up and decide her feelings. In Migration Adrien isn’t pushing her to open up to him completely right away. He knows she has things she’s not telling him, but rather than focusing on what he wants or thinks their relationship should look like, he worries that she is stressing herself out and hurting herself for his sake, and he doesn’t want that. In Derision, he is patient and constantly checks on her when she’s not doing well. When he finally learns what’s wrong, he listens to her about what she needs and comforts and supports her instead of insisting that she hurry up and figure it out. Both of those things came from his prior loves. With Marinette, he's finally figured out the right amount of push and pull, and the two of them are learning together what they both need and how to love each other in the ways they need to be loved.

One of the reasons Protection is one of my top episodes so far this season is because Adrien realizes that Marinette needs more out of him than he’s been giving, and he puts in more effort! He wants her to feel comfortable with him and puts in the work to help her overcome her anxiety around him. The whole picnic set up is so incredibly thoughtful and sweet and clearly tailored just for her. I love that a message of their love is that you don’t need anything flashy. Adrien is filthy rich and could provide a lot of flash, but instead he sets up a romantic picnic in his backyard. They play games and talk and laugh and watch the clouds in their pajamas. And it’s so sweet! Even the song he sings her in Perfection is about how he doesn’t care about any of those things. He just wants to be with her. Their love is beautifully simple, and I love to see that after several seasons of Marinette making everything overcomplicated. They care about each other, and that’s enough.

She fell first, he fell harder

I am so obsessed with how once Adrien realized he loves her, he was all in, immediately asking her out, swooning over her. She literally spouts nonsense around him half the time, and he's just like aww, she always knows what to say. I love her sm! I dunno. It’s just refreshing after seeing Marinette have zero chill for 4 seasons to see him having absolute heart eyes at her now. When everyone else is shaking their head at her Marinette-isms, Adrien just smiles and laughs with her. One of my all time favorite things when writing their pairing is portraying the moment Adrien realizes he loves her and seeing how his perception changes after that, so seeing that be canon is everything I could have ever asked for. And he doesn’t hesitate to let her know how he feels and how deeply he cares for her. We love to see it.

Love built from friendship, trust, and mutual respect

I know this aspect is hotly contested and controversial in fandom, but I don’t care. Other people’s inability to watch media with their eyes open and understand what’s happening on screen isn’t my problem. Their development from being uncertain and even hostile to each other to being so supportive and caring toward each other is so sweet and satisfying. Seeing Marinette go from barely being able to get a coherent sentence out around him and constantly being jealous of every girl that talked to him to confidently holding his hand, telling him she loves him, and not being threatened even when his father’s marketing campaign is coupling him with his ex-girlfriend is such satisfying character development.

Marinette fell in love with Adrien for his kindness and sincerity. Slowly but surely they became friends, then good friends, and along the way they developed a sweet love and respect for each other. When people challenge Marinette’s honor, Adrien speaks up. When their friends think Adrien sent a mean message, Marinette knows it couldn’t possibly be from him. They see each other, even when others don’t, and I love that about them.

Protective/Sacrificing

Along that same vein, I love how much they protect and sacrifice for each other. Since s1, we’ve seen Marinette sacrifice chances to impress him for his ultimate happiness. When he thinks her scarf came from his dad, when she quietly returns his father’s book so he can come back to school, when she gives up her feelings when he’s in love with someone else. Marinette has always wanted him to be happy, even if that’s not with her. She swallows her feelings when he’s with Kagami, and even tries to help Kagami reignite her feelings after they break up.

In Adrien, we see a protective nature come out in him when it comes to Marinette. How many times has he tackled her away from danger and cradled her head? When she gets bumped to the back of the class, he goes back to join her so she’s not alone. When trouble breaks out, he tells her specifically to find somewhere safe. He took on a statue Hawkmoth with an umbrella to protect her. When he thought she was sad, he tried to cheer her up. When he found out another boy broke her heart and felt no remorse, he snapped. When he realized how bad Chloe used to bully Marinette, he cut ties with her. When Kagami got the wrong impression of Marinette, he set the record straight. They both pay so much attention to each other and are always trying to keep the other one safe and happy. They’re so sweet.

Literally the softest ever

Okay, this is my section to gush about how cute they are. I mean look at them.

You could make several collages of all of the soft looks Adrien has given her over the course of the show.

Look at them blushing

And holding hands

They are the cutest couple! Literally soulmates, made for each other, perfect in every way for each other wow.

Two absolutely unhinged halves of a whole idiot

Even with as cute as they are, these two are still a chaotic duo, and I love that for them. She literally had him pick up constipation capsules for her once, and he didn't bat an eye. She kissed him when she thought he was a statue, and that was the moment he realized he might like her. She full on panicked about sitting next to him on an airplane, and he was totally unfazed. Even hugged her the next morning and talked about how grateful he was to have her as a friend. When she couldn’t figure out an automatic door, he stayed with her the whole time and jumped to catch her when she fell. We stan two halves of a whole idiot.

Slow Burn

Listen, I know that we were going crazy over the will-they-won’t-they all this time, but seeing them together now has made it all worth it. Watching season 1 again knowing that someday Marinette does confess her feelings and get the boy is just everything. All of their little moments, the soft looks Adrien always gave her and how much we clowned on him for being in denial about his feelings for her. How he finally wised up and realized he loved her. Watching their relationship grow and develop over the last several years has certainly been a journey, but looking back at it now, all of those little hints and pieces we picked up but didn’t know if they’d ever pay off have finally paid off. They’re canon. Like actually, properly canon. And I’m loving that they didn’t wait until the very end for them to confess, but instead are continuing the slow burn by addressing their trauma and Adrien’s complicated home life. They’re dating and still fighting to be together. I love that their love wasn’t just an end-all-be-all prize to win in the very end. They got together and things weren’t perfect. All of their problems didn’t magically get solved. They still have to work together to figure things out and are continuing to grow together. It’s the goodest shit.

Carving their own path

The last thing I want to talk about is how much I appreciate that they are carving their own path for their relationship. Their friends all have this image in their mind of what they need to be happy. Adrien’s father has his own image for what Adrien needs to be happy, but the two of them? They’re like thanks but no thanks. We’re gonna figure this out on our own. Their fairytale love story has been anything but since they got together. Marinette was still having nervous breakdowns around him and running away. Adrien’s father was constantly trying to keep them apart. But despite all of that, they continue to work together to sort through all of the messes and be there for each other. After Adrien learns that Marinette has unresolved trauma that he’s been unknowingly triggering all this time, he makes a change to help her work through that. When Adrien is stuck between what he wants and what his dad wants, Marinette promises not to give up on him.

They’ve told us since the very beginning that these two are made for each other, and we’ve gotten bits and pieces over the course of the show demonstrating the ways they work together in perfect sync, but this season is really showing us why these two are made for each other. It’s because they work for it, and they work together for it. Yes, they have undeniable chemistry and are a perfect team, but when things get hard, they don’t give up on each other.

I dunno. I just think they’re neat.

[ao3feed-piltovers-finest]

Hi! A while ago you made a post with some great Violyn recs, and I bookmarked and went through and loved all of them, but I didn’t do the same with some that were in progress, so could you link them again? And then also, do you have some new recs? :)) There’s so much stuff out there right now and it’s a bit hard to sift, so unbiased suggestion for something interesting and well written would be much appreciated. I don’t really care about the length as long as it’s good, in character and hopefully canon compliant? Or anything else that stands out, really. As for ratings everything is a go, just a big NO to abo (even if we put noncon issue aside, sorry but there’s only a limited amount of blowj*bs I can take in my basic lesbian p*rn, lol) or gross monster stuff unfortunately abundant these days. Also, nothing wrong with WIPs but preferably finished stories? And TYSM. For what you’re doing there, and for all the recs, past and present! <3

Hey there! :)

First of all, thank you for your kind words, and second - apologies for a relatively tardy reply (also, if you sent this message twice by mistake, the reply's to the greyface one - in case you wanted to retain anonymity, if that's okay?) since it took a bit to compile appropriate thoughts and words for a decent response. But since below the cut you'll be able to find not only links but also (unsolicited? :) reviews, I hope it'll at least give you enough of a fix - for a while?

:)

Now, let's start with...

That post, that I think you can still find under 'fic recs' section on the main page, there were two WIPs there, if I recall? One of them is still a fun read (the unpretentious, fun AU one that I think I tagged as my 'guilty pleasure' at the time?) and the other, well - despite having a really intense beginning it got convoluted and overly watered down half-way, and lost me. (So, no more recommending WIPs, yes - check. Lol.) But to answer your other question - in the meantime I read, loved, and would wholeheartedly recommend... hmm. Ok, since you basically gave me free range apart from the omgaverse (for which - no worries, I don't care for it either, I've seen dozens of them passing over this page, but only one well-written, with an actual interesting plot and character dynamics - but a WIP, so we might go back to that one at some later point? ;) the ONLY criteria now I guess would be...

The works of some new and/or underrated authors? How's that, to fulfill the primary intent of this blog, which is to promote and/or send appreciation to those who really truly deserve it?

So, yeah. In no particular order, here are some of my recent faves:

Digging Like You Can Bury Something That Cannot Die series by shoutoutout

@shoutoutout

Canon compliant, a study on guilt, loss and acceptance. A truly gripping study, a recontextualization if you will (expanding the context span, filling in gaps) with emphasis on that residual emptiness that one never truly accepts, just learns how to live with. The way in which Vi is given facing, then coping with all of it in such a simply human, fight or flight way - is incredibly relatable. While the first part written from Cait's perspective gives a unique insight into her upbringing, her heritage, her relationship with her mother (which, perhaps it's just me - but I love seeing it explored beyond what we've seen onscreen, especially with that last scene, where it's evident that no matter how much she disagrees with her mum she still looks to her for comfort when she is despair) and then of course - grief flooded with regret. Really masterfully written.

Grenadier by antistar_e (kaikamahine)

@kaikamahine

Set post-finale, this is basically a character dynamics piece, written from Vi's perspective. It's a gentle, at times funny and yet gritty and profound exploration of regret, mourning and unhealthy coping mechanisms - on everyone's behalf, with developments between Vi, Cait and Jinx (yes, all three of them - but don't let this deter you just because Jinx has absolutely no boundaries ;) this is uniquely beautiful portrayal of sisterly relationship. The simple way Vi explains her love for Jinx will break your heart, because she loves her despite everything, the guilt, lack of remorse - it's the love that doesn't preclude justice or exempt her from consequences, but just grows, adapts, restitches its seams. It has elements of romantic developments (in different directions?) but the central part is the sisters, and to be completely frank it's the best fic I've ever read exploring these dynamics, post finale. Both characterisation as well as style wise.

Drink from the Cup of Fortune by xanthinriff

@xanthinriff

'Does happiness bloom from the soil of pain, or is pain a byproduct of happiness lost?' If you've ever read anything else written by this author, you'll know that their writing simply cannot be summarized, objectively or rationally. And this one is not an exception, it is post finale, post everything and beyond, and it gives us Vi's perspective on - grief, guilt, need to belong, the feeling of loss, helplessness, selfishness, mental self-flagellation... gosh, I've said it before and I'll say it again, xanthinriff has a uniquely, gut-wrenching writing style that packs a punch - undaunted to tackle even the most complex, or darkest of emotions so it's definitely not for those who want a sappy, trite emotional lemonade. But rather real raw human emotions, such as... well, those listed above?

Now, the author has deleted their A03 account for personal reasons, but this specific work is still available per request, exclusively here (author's prerogative, of course) so if what you read there got you intrigued - send us a DM and we shall deliver.

(This is also valid for some of their other work, previously referenced and recommended on this page)

sweet & bitter by garcondencre

@garcondencre

Canon compliant. An exploration of what happened between the moment Caitlyn and Vi found themselves alone in Cait's bedroom and the moment they left each other in the rain. A beautifully heartfelt character study, a train of thought from Vi's perspective, if you will. Characterization is spot on, emotions are intense and tangible, and the inner conflict fleshed out so viscerally, painfully well.

The Power of a Name by kendricked

@caitkirammans

One of those 'five times' prompts, written from Caitlyn's perspective. A very interesting take on how she viewed things that happened, and then those that [spoiler]. It contains some missing bits, or interludes, if you will. They speaks volumes on Caitlyn herself, seamlessly showing that cross between that naivetee and genuine selflessness - and also how she saw, and sees Vi. Emotional intensification written and depicted at its best.

keep your head low by espressbian

@espressbian

Canon compliant. An amazing dive into Caitlyn's mind (ok, I guess Vi’s as well - in the second chapter?) showing us their respective perspectives on things that happened - through this very skillfully written inner dialogue, depicting the inner workings of both of their minds, but especially Caitlyn's... I found it gripping, touching and impressively intense all at the same time.

no powder but stardust by softnyx

(tumblr unknown - let us know, if you do?)

I think I already mentioned this one? It's a one-shot, but is contained of eight episodes with time gaps, featuring snippets of scenes from different, not-so-random periods. Starts with that beautiful childish pure innocence and veers off into... well, two diverse worlds, a canon divergence AU (star-crossed lovers of sorts, comes to mind) that grows close to the one of game canon-world? The characterisation is endearingly tangible and wholesome, and it is absolutely amazing what a skillful author can do in such little space and with so few words.

Wrap ya gun in giftwrap by Latenightsgunfights

@latenightsgunfights

This is quite a short piece, basically just smutty. Why on this list, you might wonder? Well, the way it shows Vi struggling between how she sees herself, the subtly shown conflict between the tough front and bravado and how she feels about herself in regards to Caitlyn, how it manifests in their physical connection - the implication how certain feelings can be put into submission... it's quite a lot (yeah, no one's immune to hot smutty ones, but I prefer them with some substance, alright? ;) for a short piece with barely 1k of a wordcount.

Chances by mira_blue

@mira-blue

To be completely honest, this is not really CaitVi (they're just acknowledged in the passing) but rather a canon-compliant take on Vi's complicated relationship with her sister, post S1. (Yeah, I've been kinda leaning towards those, recently - can you tell? :) Pieces like this, exploring this kind of dynamics of theirs are quite rare, and this one may seem like just a drabble - but try to get into Jinx's fragmented stream of consciousness. It's uncomfortable, realistic and tangible, all at once. I've seen very few well-written ones and this one is my absolute favourite one.

Shadow of Nothing by UmbreonGurl

@umbreongurl

Quite sure you've read some of the other works of this author as well, but this one is a bit different from all of their other (AU? fluffy? comedy? romcom?) work, and a bit underrated in my opinion. In a span of a single chapter it covers literally everything, from the prison break till post finale - while at the same time being a character study of Cait. It's simple, unpretentious, with effective time lapses, and an interestingly different, more realistic view of Vi - as it makes more sense that she'd be more distrustful, standoffish and defensive to start with in the beginning. But it's a quite fresh and intimate take on Cait, and it's not that angsty (like the rest of the stuff from this list), so...

Dust Collected OnMy Pinned-Up Hair by tailoredjade

@tailoredjade

Ok, there are so many high-school AUs out there, but there's just that something about the pacing of this one. It covers a longer timespan, with smaller/larger gaps and ellipses, but the way it captures the yearning and pining is incredibly palpable. It's friends-to-lovers, but in a way also a compelling character piece that captures Cat's inner workings (exasperation? anxiety?) rather well. Quite interestingly written (in terms of sentence structure, or how it follows the character's thought-process) it's a fittingly positive one, for the end of this list?

:)

Aaand - that'd be all.

As always, if you enjoy any of these (and even if they're not really new for you - and you already had, lol) go drop these lovely people out there a positive note, some appreciation and encouragement - and then let us know as well.

Cheers! 🌈💖

[panda-noosh]

the game {draco x reader}

  masterlist

---

 you’ve been tormenting the malfoy family for what feels like forever.

   it’s become a kind of game at this point, a game everyone is involved in. the malfoys pretend they don’t expect your presence, and you pretend you are tormenting them because you don’t like them. it’s back and forth, back and forth, and you’ve been doing it too long to back out now.

   it starts the same way every time - the gate is open, and they pretend it’s because they forgot to close it. nobody mentions the fact that lucius malfoy hasn’t forgotten a single thing in his entire life. nobody mentions draco’s blonde head peaking out from behind the living room curtains, waiting for the arrival of a person he claims to despise. 

   you stroll in with the ease of someone who owns the place, smiling and waving at the white peacocks that have become so familiar with your presence by now that they don’t even make a noise upon seeing you. they lift their graceful heads, and then they bow them again - it’s as simple as that.

    you knock on the door, grinning even wider when you hear narcissa’s faux exclamation of, “who could that possibly be?” you know for a fact that draco has warned her of your presence already, that all three of them have been expecting your arrival since they woke up this morning. 

   and then the door opens, and narcissa stands there in all her glory. such a tall, graceful woman, and you tell her that on a daily basis, making her blush because you  are her favourite little Mudblood, and she lets you get away with things like that.

    you lean against the door frame, spinning your wand between your ringed fingers. narcissa glares at you without speaking, her jaw working as she inspects you.

    “evening,” you drawl. “how are you today, my dear?”

   her nostrils flare. “how many times have we told you to stay away from our home?”

    “oh, plenty of times. i’ve quite lost count.” you straighten, craning your neck to see over her tall frame, into the hallway beyond. standing in the foyer, just as you predicted, just as he always does, is draco. you give him a wave before turning back to face his mother. “is he alright? i haven’t seen him much at school recently.”

    “my sons wellbeing is none of your business.”

   draco appears at his mothers elbow. “you can tell professor snape i’ve been feeling ill.”

   you smile - draco giving you orders is moreso his way of answering your questions without looking like he gives a shit. you appreciate it, this code you two speak in, because in all truth, you do worry about the malfoy boy quite a bit.

   you met him in school, your very first year at hogwarts. you were crushed beneath adrenaline, having found out about your powers only a few weeks before being shipped off to this strange and wonderful new school. you had a wand, and a robe, and there was a giant man ushering you into a tiny boat, ready to take you to the future. 

   and then draco appeared, and he knew who you were. he must have looked through the first year list, must have looked you up and realised you were a muggle-born. he did his research, and that was the first point of respect he earned off you.

    “let them in, mother,” draco says now. “the elves made too much food anyway; might as well put them to use whilst they’re here.”

    you give a mock bow. “much appreciated, malfoy.”

   he snarls, before mother and son turn on their heels and lead you into the home you have become so familiar with these past few years. you’ve traced these walls with your fingers a thousand times before, and you do the same now. upstairs, you hear the elves marching around, putting stuff back where they belong, chuntering amongst themselves; silently, you wonder where lucius is. 

    draco and narcissa lead you to the kitchen, where stacks upon stacks of food are set up along the grand dining table. draco hands you a glass of water before gesturing to the plates and saying, “dig in. and be grateful we haven’t got the ministry involved.”

    “the ministry?” you raise a brow, taking a long, loud sip of your water before continuing. “draco, what would the ministry possibly do? you’ve been letting me into your home for years - it’s starting to get a little old hearing you say you don’t want me here.”

    draco blinks, startled. 

   narcissa steps in, grabbing the water from your hand and slamming it upon the table. “we don’t want you here. the last thing we need is some filthy mudblood knocking on our door at all hours of the morning.”

    the word doesn’t even sting any more - it’s a wound that has been closed long enough now to no longer hurt. so instead, you smile and say, “very true, narcissa. i’ll have my water back now, if you please.”

    narcissa growls, turns and walks out of the kitchen. she always does this. it’s become part of the routine.  

   you grab the water yourself and take another sip. draco continues staring at you, a habit he adopted only recently. you remember the first time he did it, the first time it was more than a glance, more than an accidental brush of eye contact between you; he was standing on the opposite side of the kitchen, those slim fingers tapping a rhythm against the expensive granite. you and lucius were chatting, lucius asking - yet again - why you’re here, why you can never leave them alone, why you aren’t at school. you were going to answer, but draco’s gaze was burning a hole into the side of your face, and you truly felt as if you had no choice but to pack it in early and go home, just to recuperate. 

    you’ve gotten better with it. you don’t have any plans of storming out any time soon, though his gaze still makes your face heat up and your stomach squirm.

    “so, you’ve been ill, have you?” you begin. “i won’t lie, draco, you look pretty spritely to me.”

    “i wouldn’t expect you to understand,” draco shoots back. “you should just mind your business.”

    “i never asked you what was wrong. i was just saying - seems like you’re looking for a muggle excuse to get out of going to school.”

   draco glares, though the expression has less effect now that he’s taken to never taking his eyes off you, no matter what his emotions towards you are in the moment. “i’ve told you not to call me that.”

   “didn’t call you anything.”

   “you called me a muggle.”

   you narrow your eyes in faux confusion. “i said your excuse was muggle. don’t blow it out of proportion, mate.”

   he throws his hands up, turning away for what feels like the first time since he laid eyes on you. “why are you here this time, y/n? what could you possibly want from us now?”

    “i’ve never wanted anything from you.” you inspect the endless plates on the table. “although i will pinch a scotch egg, if you don’t mind.”

    draco watches as you reach across the table, picking at the assortment of foods. you don’t break the eye contact, because that’s what he wants you to do. he wants you to show some sign of intimidation, some sign that he has wriggled beneath your nerves in the same way he manages with everyone else. you’re determined to show him you’re not afraid of the malfoys, have never been afraid of the malfoys, and that’s exactly why you’re here. you wanted something, and you were willing to go to the highest rank to get it.

    “you know, if my father finds out about what you get up to, you’ll be sent to azkaban with a life sentence.”

    you freeze, scotch egg halfway to your mouth. “so you’re bringing that up now, are you?”

    “i’m just warning you.” draco shrugs, the sleeves of his black blazer stretching against the motion. “one day you’re going to walk in here, and he’s going to know. he’s going to see it in your eyes that you’re guilty.”

   “he’s going to figure me out.” you scoff. “you really think the sun shines out of your father’s arse, don’t you? he’s not as smart as he likes everyone to think, draco. i’ve been running circles around that man for years now, and he’s none the wiser.”

    “and what if i tell him?”

   the room falls silent. your heartbeat rings in your ears. you hate talking about this with draco, because you never know whether or not to take his threats seriously. 

    he folds his arms over his chest. “you’re lucky i haven’t blabbed yet.”

   “are you threatening me, malfoy?” you lean forward, lowering your voice to a purr. “why don’t you tell me the real reason you’ve taken two weeks out of school, hm? then we’ll both have stories to tattle to the ministry.”

    draco pales. he glares at you for a moment longer before the kitchen door opens, and narcissa malfoy strolls inside once again. you straighten up, schooling your expression into one of immediate calm, like not a single thing is wrong. you pop the remaining scotch egg in your mouth and say, “i should get out of your hair now.”

    narcissa simply scowls.

    you give her a grin, nod at draco once before walking out the door, trying to ignore that blue-eyed gaze still burning into the back of your head.

   ----

    it gets easier over time.

    all of it does, really. the guilt becomes non-existent, and the act itself becomes second nature after a few good attempts. you’ve nearly been caught a handful of times, and you know if your actions were to come to light, you would be expelled from hogwarts in a heartbeat; not even dumbledore could show you mercy, no matter how much he likes you.

    it’s easiest when the streets are full. muggles are so careless, clumped together with wallets jingling in their pockets, unprotected. they don’t even think about what might go wrong, don’t even think a wizard may be lurking amongst them, ready to snatch their belongings right from their person.

    you don’t need it, of course. muggle money means nothing where you come from, but there’s some wizards and witches who would pay hundreds of galleons in trade for the things collected off muggles. it’s a black market kind of situation.

   tonight, you are dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, wand stowed in your back pocket. you don’t need it; you’ve mastered the magic-free manoeuvres of sneaking things from people, and you use such skills to your advantage tonight. a man by the name of richard carpol has put in a request for a muggle passport - an irish one, preferably, but he’ll take anything you can get your hands on.

    you search for what feels like hours before zoning in on the dark red booklet peaking out of a teenagers jacket pocket. their source of ID, you assume, and you feel no guilt whatsoever when you stroll past them and pluck the book free. you stuff it in your hoodie pocket before picking up your pace, ducking into a dark alleyway.

    you flip it open - it’s a british passport, but richard will still pay. he’s not a picky customer, which makes your night ten times easier.

   you make your way back to hogwarts, waving at people in hogsmeade before you disappear for the night. you sneak into the slytherin dormitory with no problems, stuffing the passport beneath your mattress. you wriggle beneath the sheets, ignoring pansy’s insistant questions about where you have been, if you’ve seen draco, how you managed to sneak past filch - she asks this every night, and you have never replied. you just fall asleep, another day successful.

  ----   

   “he’s back.”

   like he’s some kind of god. you nearly roll your eyes, the whispers repeated over and over again throughout morning breakfast. all around you, the slytherin table is alive with anticipation, waiting for draco malfoy to stroll in through the double doors, head held high in that way it always is.

   you knew draco was returning before anyone else did, as he told you the night before in a fit of faux rage at the sight of you in his bedroom, yet again. you had offered to leave, leaned casually against his mahogany wardrobe, and it could almost be considered hasty the speed at which he rushed for his door to close it, uttering a quiet, “no, you’re here now, so you might as well stay.”

    but now he’s back in school, and you’re sick of him. you haven’t even seen his face once, but the whispers and the praise from your house mates is enough to set your teeth on edge. it reminds you that there is indeed a draco living outside of the malfoy manor, a draco you cannot tease and torment as easily.

    “i saw him in the common room this morning putting his robes on. i think his parents got him new ones,” a fellow slytherin whispers. “and his hair has been cut a little shorter - he looks so grown up!”

   you snicker into your porridge, smothering the noise to no avail. the slytherin girl singing draco’s praises shoots you a glare before noticing who you are; her glare folds in on itself, and she quickly retaliates by pretending she didn’t hear your snicker in the first place.

    breakfast ticks by, and it’s only near the end does draco finally decide to grace the dining hall with his presence. the double doors open, and the chatter amongst the slytherins falls short almost immediately. you’re ashamed to admit that even you look up at the speed of light, catching one of the first glimpses of draco malfoy as he returns from what many people assumed was the dead.

    his fangirl certainly wasn’t lying, you notice; his hair has been cut shorter, and he does look plenty grown up. he walks with a fresh confidence that makes you want to roll your eyes - it’s not like he needed a further confidence boost. his robes are clean, brushing the floor. his eyes are trained on the head table, though they linger there for only moments before snapping to where you are seated.

   you raise a curious brow. he blushes, looks away, and takes his seat next to crabbe and goyle, both of whom clap him on the back like he’s just returned from war.

    you ignore him the rest of breakfast, which is a rare action for you. you used to revel in tormenting him, coming face to face with him at every corner just to give another snide remark; it was a game back then, back when the two of you were younger and felt as if you could get away with it. 

    breakfast ends shortly thereafter, and you hurry to gather your things. swinging your bag over one shoulder, you duck your head down and escape into the crowded corridors, losing yourself amongst the sea of black clad students. 

   but you’re a fool to ever think you - of all people - could escape draco’s magnificent return to school. his cold fingers wrap around your wrist before you have a chance to turn the corridor to your next class, stopping you in your tracks. part of you wants to spin around and punch him, just floor him in front of everyone, show him that you’re not just some silly person showing up on his front doorstep every other night.

    instead, you slowly turn and give him a smile, one of your big ones to let him know you don’t mean it, that you’re being hostile.

    his face is set in stone, that frown so perfect and soft looking it makes you want to sob. 

    “where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asks, keeping his voice low because god forbid anyone catch him speaking to you.

    “class,” you reply. “so kindly let go of me, malfoy.”

   “not until you tell me where richard got another muggle passport to sell.”

    you freeze, though you knew this would be coming eventually. richard is one of your best customers, but he’s not very bright; he’s never understood the concept of subtlety when it comes to the trading of muggle artefacts. 

    “he has a new one, does he?” you say. “good for him. his collection must be getting awfully big by now.”

   draco scowls. “my father is starting to get very suspicious, y/n, and i don’t know how much longer i’ll be willing to cover for you.”

    you pry your hand out of his grip, nearly stumbling from the momentum. “is that a threat?”

    “it’s a warning,” he says. “i might not like you, but i don’t need you going down for something like this. people know we’re familiar with each other, and i don’t want you tarnishing my family name.”

    you scoff. “your family name has been tarnished since you-know-who was in power.”

    “shut up. don’t talk on things you don’t understand.”

    “all i need to do is pick up a history book.”

   draco scowls, those blues eyes ablaze. you’ve seen this look on him when he’s speaking to those gryffindors he hates so much, when a teacher takes someone else’s side over his own. you’ve seen this look on him plenty of times, but never aimed at you; for some reason, his expression is always so soft around the edges when trained on you.

    “i’m trying to do you a favour,” draco mumbles. “because i’m serious when i say my father will snap you in half if he finds out you’re the one providing these artefacts to the dark market.”

    “i’m not afraid of lucius,” you reply. “and i think you’re kind of forgetting the fact that your father actually likes me. at least a little bit.”

    draco’s eyebrows fly up in amusement. “what’s given you that idea?”

   “the fact that i’m still allowed in your house after all these years.” you grin, basking in the way draco’s own smile fades at the realisation you have indeed recognised this behaviour within his family. “yes, malfoy. you all try so hard to convince me i’m the scum of the earth, but the truth is, you appreciate my company. the truth is, you make me tea every time i visit. the truth is, you’re all a little fond of me, whether you want to admit it or not.”

    his face pales even more, a feat you didn’t think possible until seeing it with your own two eyes. it’s a delicious win, a point for you in a competition you didn’t even realise you had entered.

    “you’re delusional,” he mumbles. “you say you picked up a history book, then you must know how my family feel about your kind.”

   “my kind?” you raise a brow, feigning ignorance just to annoy him. he hates outstretched conversations, especially with you. “are you talking about half-bloods, or pickpockets? oh! or people who can run circles around you without fear?”

    you don’t give him a chance to reply, because quite frankly, you’re done with this conversation. you’re done with him for today. you prefer it when you’re in control of your daily draco interactions. 

    you turn on your heel and leave, rushing for your next class even as he calls your name. you can’t believe the nerve of him, approaching you like that, telling you to quit the job that’s gotten you off the streets, that’s helped you fund an education for yourself. these robes you’re wearing, the books you read in class, the wand that is an extension of your arm by now - all of it was funded by you, from your own pocket. just because the business is ruthless, not some posh, clean dealing that malfoy is used to, doesn’t mean it’s any less important.

   you want to shove that explanation down his throat, just so he’ll finally look past his own privileged little bubble. you hate admitting it, but the truth is, draco wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t so blinded by his upbringing. he knows how to be nice - you’ve seen it before, experienced it before, though you never talk about those experiences with anyone. there have been a few times where draco has seen you walking past his house, soaked to the bone from the rain, and he’s let you in, warmed you up by the fire, placed a hot chocolate in your hand. he’ll insult you and call you stupid and claim he wants you out of his house as soon as possible, but he was still the man who made the move to get you out of the rain.

    your feelings for draco are a jenga tower. built up to full form, but slowly, pieces get chipped away until the entire thing is falling, and you have to rebuild it and try again. 

    you don’t know why you keep rebuilding it after so many disasters, but as he calls your name at your retreating back, you can feel yourself already putting those blocks back together.

   ----

     charms class really is a pain.

   flitwick is nice enough. he’s patient, which is good, and very much needed when it comes to your skills in the classroom. you’re an intelligent person, always studying because you want to be the best. you love seeing the look on draco’s face when he looks over and sees you’ve got a higher grade than him. it gives you such a thrill.

   but charms is your downfall, because nothing makes any sense. flitwick explains the spell, and the hand movements, and he leaves you to your own devices, and you always somehow end up messing everything up.

   today, all you’re doing is tossing a pillow to the other side of the room. it’s a simple spell, a simple gesture, and yet you still manage to smash a window in the process. flitwick merely sighs, explains the charm again, and gets you to repeat the process until you’ve got it right.

   it takes a while. you don’t like it when things take a while.

    by the half hour mark, sweat is running down your face, and your teeth have been gritted for so long it’s starting to hurt. you throw your wand down on the table, rake your hands through your hair and say, “i’m taking a break.”

   “please do,” flitwick grumbles, rubbing the spot on his head where a vase smashed into his skull, thanks to your handiwork.

   you slump down on one of the pillows you have failed to charm and run a hand along your brow. it’s actually disgusting how much energy gets taken out of you from doing such a simple thing. it’s also very confusing, considering you’re able to master the most difficult spells in defence against the dark arts without so much as a second thought. why tossing a pillow to the other side of the room is getting to you is both a joke and a mystery.

    as you pull yourself together, savouring your moment of rest, someone slumps down next to you. you glance over, an eyebrow raised at bailey o’boyle, a boy you’ve done business with a few times in the past. he was only dabbling in the black market at the time, too young to understand what it was actually all about, but you weren’t going to be the one to ward him off, not when he had a good few galleons with your name on it.

    he looks at you now with a smile, big and dopey, just as it always is.

   “can i help you?” you ask. 

    “yes.”

   you wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. he just keeps staring at you.

    you grit your teeth. “with what?”

    “i need an electric scooter.”

    you raise a brow. already the word ‘electric’ has got your attention, because that’s not something the wizard world is very familiar with. what bailey is doing right now is forming a business deal. you’re not usually a fan of bargaining in the middle of class, but since you have nothing better to do. . .

   you turn, ducking your head and lowering your voice. “what the fuck do you need an electric scooter for?”

    “to sell,” he replies. “i’ve got a man who collects them. he’s willing to pay big money, y/n. big, big money.”

    you like the sound of that.

   “i’m a pickpocket, you know,” you say. “it’s not going to be easy pickpocketing an entire scooter from a muggle.”

    bailey shrugs. “i said i’d see what you could do. but if you’re not up to it. . .”

   your eye twitches; you hate that phrase. realistically, you know this is far beyond your expertise. you steal wallets, and passports, and house keys, tiny things you can sneak away without detection. trying to get something like an electric scooter from a muggle without being caught is close enough to impossible that even the lure of galleons isn’t enough to convince you to do it.

   still, of course you’re going to think about it. there are many different side streets in muggle london that you could go down, and if you do it at night, the shadows could be used to your advantage. nobody would even bat an eye if you wore-

    draco grabs your wrist and pulls you from the floor.

   you yelp, stumbling into his chest. he lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you’re more surprised at his strength than you are at his actions.

    bailey’s eyes widen. he stutters, trying to feign innocence, but neither you nor draco are interested in him any more. you whirl on malfoy, shoving him away.

   “what the hell?”

    “what the hell, is right.” he grabs your arm. “come with me.”

   you struggle against his grip, but truth to be told, you’re not really putting up much of a fight. you’re still in shock at how easily he was able to lift you, at the feel of his fingers around your upper arm. 

    he drags you from the classroom. flitwick being flitwick doesn’t even bat an eye; he’s probably relieved that’s two more students he doesn’t need to worry about.

    in the hallway, draco finally lets go of you. you jerk away so fast your back hits against the wall. draco raises a brow, but he still looks furious. his nostrils are flared, his face is pale, and god, he keeps clenching his fists like he wants to wrap his hands around your throat.

    god help you, you kind of want him to. just to know what it feels like.

    “again,” you say. “what the hell?”

   “i knew you were stupid, y/n, but that’s bad even for you.”

    “excuse me?”

   “you do realise blaise was listening to every word you and bailey were saying in there?” he shakes his head, jaw clenched. “i was trying to talk over you, but your loud mouth is quite difficult to ignore.”

    you blink. firstly, wow. bargaining in class really isn’t a good idea, and you really should have known better.

   but also, wow, draco actually tried helping you out.

   you swallow and fold your arms over your chest. “i had it under control. blaise isn’t gonna do shit.”

    draco laughs. “blaise’s dad is in the ministry, idiot.”

   “stop calling me that. i’m smarter than you!”

    “do you understand what i’m telling you, y/n? if blaise says a word about what he heard to his dad, that’s you done. there’s no getting out of that.”

    a chill runs down your spine. draco glimpses the movement, and you swear his features soften slightly.

    “i just can’t believe you were so careless.”

   “why do you even care?” your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. you kind of hope draco doesn’t hear it, but his eyebrows shoot up, and his cheeks gain a tiny red tint that lets you know he doesn’t really know the answer to that question. 

   you swallow, looking up to meet his eyes. “why do you care, draco?”

   “because.” his throat bobs. there is a moment of hesitation where you think he’s going to tell the truth. maybe he’s going to shock the world and just tell the god damn truth, but then he clears his throat, pulls his shoulders back and says, “i’ve already told you, y/n; if you go down, you’ll tarnish my family name. i can’t have that.”

    your insides wilt like his words are acid being poured down your throat. you laugh a little too loudly, a bark more than anything close to amusement. it’s so vicious, so filled with hatred that draco actually flinches away. in that moment, you want to give him a real reason to flinch, a real reason to be afraid.

    but you don’t, because he’s the boy who pulled you out of the rain.

   instead, you shake your head and say, “tell flitwick i’m ill. and don’t bother talking to me ever again. let me handle my own business, thanks.” and without another word, you rush down the hallway to the dorm rooms, refusing to look back at him. this time, he doesn’t call your name, doesn’t chase after you in that hopelessly stupid way you want him to. of course he wouldn’t. 

    you throw your robes off the minute you burst through the doors of your dorm. it’s empty besides a fellow slytherin’s cat laying on the bed. the black and white feline lifts its head at the sound of you, and you ignore it’s confused little mews as you scramble into your own bed, pull the privacy curtain over and bury your head in your pillow.

   you hate him. you really, really hate him, and that’s not even an exaggeration. he’s the worst person you’ve ever met. he’s this tormented little shit who thinks he has every right to throw his anger at everyone else, just because he isn’t tough enough to stand up to mummy and daddy. he’s so desperate to stay in line with everything his parents say, and it’s ridiculous. it’s embarrassing. it’s a cowards move.

    there are so many things you wished you said to him before storming off, but there’s always that moment of hesitation when it comes to anything you want to say to draco. you either have to check it’s not too nice, and even when it’s mean, you have to check it’s not going to actually upset him, because you don’t want to do that either. you don’t know why. you should spit in his face for the shit he puts you through, the confusion he makes you feel. and he doesn’t even care. he just carries on being a little prick, like nothing is wrong in the world.

   but surprise, surprise, draco. not everyone can live a lavish life, worry free. 

   --- 

    you manage to ignore draco for the rest of the day. it’s easily done, considering draco doesn’t like to make a big deal out of the fact that you two actually have history; he likes to pretend he associates only with people of the purest blood, the most talented wizards, ones that come from the old families.

    but he can’t keep his eyes off you.

    he knows he’s hit a nerve. the way his eyes follow every movement you make, the way his jaw ticks when you don’t even give him the time of day - he’s not a stupid boy, as much as you like to tell him he is. he can see when he’s upset you. 

    classes drag in the rest of the day, and it’s a massive relief when you’re finally released from the confines of lessons, free to do whatever you want. after stealing a bit of food from the dining hall, you head up to the slytherin dormitory; you like it best when it’s empty, when you can just sit with your own thoughts for a while. you need it today, because today you actually let yourself be a normal teenager, and you hate it. you hate the feeling of hormones and overreactions, but sometimes it’s hard to help it. sometimes you need to let yourself feel emotional.

    alone in the dorms, you reach under your bed and pull out your handy box of trinkets. most of the contents are just things you’ve stolen that never found a home - a penny from a london sidewalk, an old napkin with a mystery person’s phone number scribbled on it, a black and white photo of a couple standing in front of the ocean. however, tucked away amongst those simple, boring things is a green emerald - one you stole from the malfoy manor a few years ago.

    you got it from draco’s room, because you weren’t meant to be in there, and you wanted to let him know that you had, in fact, been in there. the emerald was stitched into the collar of one of his shirts, all expensive looking and wasted. you nearly scoffed at the sight of it - when would draco ever get to wear something so glamorous anyway? plus, the emerald looked far too heavy to be confined to a shirts collar; it would be very uncomfortable, you assumed.

   that’s why you grabbed a knife and cut the stitching to shreds, plucking the emerald from it to claim as your own. you tossed the shredded shirt back into draco’s wardrobe, tucked the emerald into your pocket and then walked out, content with the knowledge that draco would be yelling at you in due time once he noticed his missing jewel.

   but the yelling never came.

   draco knew you had stolen it. again, he isn’t stupid. his shirt was shredded, and the jewel was missing, and it was obvious who had done it - the known pickpocket who was strolling through his house every other night. 

   he just never said anything, like he wanted you to keep it, like he didn’t mind it was in your hands now.

   you stare at it, legs crossed beneath you. you’ve always prided yourself on how little you care for expensive things - you don’t complain that you haven’t got much, that you grew up poor, never able to afford the grand things draco has. but you still handle this emerald with so much care, flipping it round in your fingers, looking at every curve and delicate groove in it’s cut. 

    the dormitory door opens. you trust it’s just someone who’s eaten too much and wants an early night, so you don’t panic or falter. you listen to their footsteps patter across the room, the thump of their robes hitting the floor, followed closely by their shoes. you listen to their privacy curtain screeching open, their sigh of annoyance at something you can’t see-

   and then draco pops his head round your privacy curtain.

   you yelp, fumbling with the emerald. it slips from your fingers, however, and crashes to the floor at draco’s bare feet. he stares at it as you curse, an eyebrow raising, and you don’t even try and hide it. you just let him stare, arms folded over your chest, annoyance brewing in your stomach just at the sight of him. 

    finally, he slowly looks up. “mine, i take it?”

   “good guess, rich boy. can i have it back?”

   he picks it up and tosses it into your lap. you’re pleasantly surprised at his cooperation, but still keep that frown on your face.

   “what do you want?” you ask, violently stuffing all your belongings back into the cardboard box. 

    “you weren’t at dinner,” draco replies. “i wanted to make sure you weren’t causing any more trouble.”

    you scoff. “oh, trouble, yes. tarnishing the malfoy name. the end goal for us all.”

    draco stares at you, lips pursed. his gaze is always so warm, a physical thing that makes your skin crawl. “that comment bothered you, did it?”

    “nothing you say bothers me, draco. it just baffles me how you can be so dense sometimes.”

    “ouch. that one hurt.”

   you roll your eyes. “why are you here? i have nothing to say to you.”

   “you don’t have to say anything. i just wanted to make sure you’re alive.”

   “not like you care, though, is it?”

    draco’s nostrils flare. his throat bobs, eyes tracing the length of your throat like he’s a hungry vampire. his lower lip slips between his teeth, the expression startling you. he looks like he’s trying to reel himself back, like some unwanted emotion is fighting for dominance in his brain.

    “you’re really stubborn, aren’t you?” he asks after a moment.

   “you think?”

    “i still don’t know what i did to piss you off so much.”

   you bark out a laugh. “no, of course you don’t. god forbid a malfoy is self-aware for once.”

    he groans. “can you not just make things simple? why do we have to go around in circles like this? it’s a waste of time!”

    “is that meant to be an apology?”

   “how can i apologise when i don’t even know what i did?” he’s starting to sound desperate, like this conversation is taking the life from him. 

    you lean back, pulling the box into your lap protectively. in truth, you don’t even know how to word why you’re so upset - it makes sense in your head, but articulating it to someone else is just going to make you sound stupid, maybe even a little delusional. you should know draco by now, people will say. you should know what he’s like, that he cares for no one besides himself. getting upset over him showing his true colours is stupid, a waste of time and energy.

   but you look into his blue eyes right now, wanting nothing more than for him to just understand. understand what, you don’t even want to admit, not to yourself or anyone else. 

   “you hurt my feelings,” you mumble. 

   draco inhales sharply. “i didn’t think i could do that. i never thought you’d let me.”

    “well, you did. congratulations.”   

   “jesus, y/n, it’s not like i wanted to. what did i even say?”

   you stare at him. he stares back. the ball will drop eventually, you know, because draco is smart, smarter than you’ve ever given him credit for. he examines your expression, and you watch the moment his eyebrows start to relax in realisation, the frown form on his face. it makes anxiety coil in the pit of your stomach, because maybe this is just a little too vulnerable. maybe letting draco figure this out on his own was a bad idea.

    but it’s too late now. he draws back slowly, hands curled around the privacy curtain until the fabric is creasing and knotted in his fingers. “wait. . .”

    “go, draco,” you demand. “i have shit to do. business to take care of.”

    “y/n-”

   “go, draco!”

    he stares at you a moment longer before running a hand through his hair and walking out the room. you wait till the door is closed, and then you wait till his footsteps can no longer be heard, and then you throw the box of trinkets to the ground, watching the emerald slip across the wooden floor.

    ---

     the streets of london always look a little different when you’re angry. a little more violent. a little more real.

   muggle london in itself has always felt like a very hostile place to you, but when you’re angry, things get clearer. you notice the vomit stain on the curb, the neglected baby pram in the bush, the beer bottles smashed beneath window sills. it becomes a different place - it just depends on how you’re feeling.

    tonight, you are angry, and everything around you is angry, too.

    you just want a set of car keys, not the actual car. muggle car keys sell at a good price, depending on who you’re dealing with. nobody has requested them, and usually you don’t go out unless asked to do so by a client, but tonight, you just want to be out. you want to be away from the wizarding world. you want to cause havoc with your fingers in the best way you know how.

    it’s busy. it always is. you can guarantee that almost everyone around you has car keys in their pocket - that’s why global warming is so bad. some of them even wear them around their neck, dangling from multicoloured chains with little souvenirs banging against their chests. those would be so easy to just rip off and run away, but you’ve decided to be subtle, which means your eyes are trained on the bulges in people’s coat pockets. so many of them, so careless. 

    a man in a tracksuit seems like the best option. you follow him for ten minutes, keeping your head down, before he finally breaks away from his group of drunken friends. he laughs to himself, stumbling just the perfect amount - he’s drunk, but not drunk enough to be falling over himself, which makes slipping your hand into his pocket a pretty easy deal.

   you go for the kill, quickening your pace, dipping your hand into his pocket-

   he grabs your wrist, and before you even have a chance to blink, you’re on the ground.

    a gasp is ripped from your throat at both the shock and the pain that spears up your spine. the guy is yelling, stumbling back, and holy shit, if he doesn’t shut up right now, the whole of london is going to be on you.

   gathering as much strength as you can, you roll onto your side and push yourself to your knees. “hey man, calm down. sorry. i thought you were my friend.”

    “did you just try and rob me?” he yells.

   “no! no, of course-”

    “you psycho bitch!” he lunges for you, all drunken vowels and grabby hands. you have no idea what to make of his intentions, you just know you’ve fucked up, and you need to get out of here.

    his hands slam into your shoulders, knocking you on your ass. a cry escapes you, but not from the pain. a tiny snap sounds from your back pocket, and you know without having to look that your wand has just broken in half - yet again. dumbledore is going to start getting very suspicious.

    “son of a bitch,” you growl, before raising your hands. “listen, hey. i’m sorry. i’ve said that already. you need to calm down before-”

    “before what?” he howls. “you kill me? are you threatening me?”

    your eyes widen. “no! would you just-”

    the man opens his mouth to say something else, but his words are sucked back in when a hand wraps around his arm and yanks him back. you wince at the sound of his head cracking against the tarmac, but you don’t get a chance to comment before draco is kneeling beside you, one hand cradling your head, the other resting on your knee. his touch alone is enough to spread warmth through your previously frozen limbs, and you hate that. you hate it so much.

    you tug your knee from his grip. “what the hell are you doing here?”

   “are you bleeding?” he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. when he pulls away, his fingertip glows with a red liquid. 

   “oh. i guess i am.”

   “christ, y/n. do you ever just...” he closes his eyes, taking a moment to redirect his anger. it’s an amusing sight, and you almost smile until you remember you’re mad at him. forever mad at him.

   you jerk your head out of his grip, too. “i’m fine. stop worrying.”

    “clearly i have to, or else you’re going to get yourself killed.” he glances over his shoulder, where the drunken man is struggling to sit up, still slurring protestations. “by a muggle.”

    “he wouldn’t have killed me,” you grumble. “although my wand is broke, so maybe he would have.”

   draco’s eyes widen. you wave him off before he has a chance to chastise you again - in truth, you just want to get out of here, car keys be damned. hastily, you push yourself to your feet, wobbling only slightly, but draco must see this tiny action as a full-on collapse risk, as he wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you close, grumbling curses under his breath. you’re such a pain in the arse, apparently, and god, he wishes he wasn’t stuck with you all the time, and he’s so baffled by the fact you’re still alive, it’s probably all thanks to him, blah, blah, blah.

   you listen to him rant the entire way back to malfoy manor. you don’t argue his choice of location, because you can see narcissa standing in the doorway, hand over her mouth, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise, and you already know she’s got a cup of tea waiting for you in the sitting room. you almost smile, but that would ruin the effect.

    she rushes out to meet you and draco halfway, immediately grabbing your face and tilting your head back and forth. you can taste blood on your teeth.

    “what happened?” she breathes, but doesn’t give you a chance to reply. “draco, take them into the lounge.”

   “oh, the lounge,” you coo. “you are spoiling me!”

    “be quiet,” draco hisses, doing as his mother says. he tosses you unceremoniously onto the plush sofa, and you have to ignore the inappropriate thrill that shoots up your body. 

   narcissa appears not ten seconds later, a steaming cup of tea in her hand. you give her a grin, which she rolls her eyes at, even as she sits beside you and brushes your hair away from your face. you take a sip of the tea, smile in thanks, and then lean your head back.

   “sorry about this.”

   narcissa sighs. her breath tickles your cheek, smelling oddly of incense. “i don’t know what we’re going to do with you, y/n.”

   “put me down.” you make a stabbing gesture into your arm and mouth lethal injection at draco. he purses his lips, clearly not taking the joke in stride. “i didn’t mean to worry you so much.”

    “you’re always worrying us,” draco hisses, which earns him a sharp look from narcissa. he meets his mothers eyes and his shoulders deflate. he runs his hands down his face. “you’re just . . . always doing something.”

    “i know,” you mumble. “sorry.”

    “draco, don’t stress them out,” says narcissa, which surprises you; you’ve always known narcissa has a secret soft spot for you, but she’s always tried her hardest to keep it just that - a secret. yet here she is, combing your hair back, giving you a cup of tea, telling her son to treat you nicely. it’s like you’ve entered a different world. “i’m gonna go and make some calls. keep them comfortable, okay?”

   draco nods, lips still pursed, forever displeased. you used to laugh at that expression on his face, but now it just makes you feel bad. 

   narcissa leaves the room, and then it’s just you and draco. you watch as he watches you, eyes never wavering, shoulders never relaxing. he’s got his arms folded over his chest like he’s keeping guard. 

    “i meant it, you know,” you say. “i didn’t mean to worry you. i thought it would be an easy job.”

    “who are you doing business with now? bailey again?”

    “no.” you look down, surprisingly shameful. “it was just for myself. i needed out of the castle, and. . .” you shrug. “you know me. i can’t do anything easy.”

   he scoffs. “yeah, i know.”

   “so i’m sorry.”

   draco closes his eyes and rubs his temples. the rings on his fingers glisten beneath the fancy lights. his knuckles pop, the veins in his arms protruding. “please stop apologising.”

   you blink. “alright.”

    “you act like i don’t understand why you’re doing all this, but i do.” he looks at you, hands dropping to his sides. “just because i don’t have to do it myself, doesn’t mean i don’t understand. why else do you think i haven’t stopped you?”

    your breath catches. you raise a brow, tilting your head cruelly. “you wouldn’t have been able to stop me. you think i’d listen to you?”

    “yeah. i think you would.”

   you reel back, jaw dropping open. “excuse-”

    “you always act like you hate me, but you forget you’ve been coming to my house for years. you forget i’ve known you since we were eleven. you forget that i don’t just put up with anyone. i’ve had time to figure you out, y/n, no matter how much you like to pretend i haven’t.” he folds his arms and leans against the door. his hair is rumpled, along with his shirt and jeans. so casual, so unlike himself. “but earlier on, in the dorms. . . you surprised me with that one.”

    your stomach curls. oh, good god, he’s bringing that up now. you’re sat here with a busted chin and a potential criminal charge, and he’s bringing this up. you could headbutt him.

    despite your glare, he continues. “i knew you didn’t hate me, but i never thought. . . i never thought you liked me, you know? especially not-”

   “don’t say it.”

   his lips twist. “i have to.”

   “no you don’t.”

    “do you love me?”

    your heart falls into the pit of your stomach, which is answer enough for you. love is such a strong word, and you could easily say no, that what you feel for draco is nothing more than a little crush. he’s got the nice blue eyes, and the money, and the perfect hair. he’s got a smile that lights up rooms. it’s a crush. you fancy him, and that’s all there is to it.

    but love sounds pretty accurate. more accurate, actually.

    you swallow. draco watches the bob of your throat, and you watch his. above your head, the massive clock ticks, ticks, ticks. 

     slowly, he reaches forward and swipes his thumb over your chin. it stings just a little, but you’ve felt worse pain, so you let him do it without jerking away. 

     “cat got your tongue?” he whispers.

    you shiver. “i don’t. . . i don’t know what you want me to say.”

    “it’s not about what i want. i was asking a simple question. just give me the truth.”

    “you want the truth?”

   he inhales, hesitates, and then nods.

    “yeah, draco,” you whisper. “i think i love you.”

     slowly, draco draws away. his eyes never leave your own, that frosty blue colour reminding you of the winter sky, or a cold december morning. you remember all those christmas’s at hogwarts when draco would stay at the castle, waking him up because you thought it would annoy him to have your face be the first thing he sees. you always commented on the dreary smile that played on his lips when you did that, and he would always say, “i thought you were someone else.”

    but that dreary smile is returning, pulling across his face, and it doesn’t falter. right now, there is no mistake. his eyes are on you, and he knows it is you, the person who has apparently made his life a living hell for so many years. you’re the ache in his spine, the one he can’t wait to get rid of.

    but you’re also the one he rescued from the rain. 

    you’re the one who cursed hermione granger when she punched him in the nose.

   you’re the one who’s just confessed your love to him.

   shit.

   “don’t look at me like that,” you say, voice hoarse. “don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

   “i didn’t know,” he says immediately, like he’s desperate for you to know he was clueless. “did you know?”

    “kind of. i wanted to ignore it-”

    draco shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand. “no, no. did you know that i love you, too?”

    you open your mouth, but no words come out. your brain just short circuits, taking a second to catch on to what he’s said. that dreary smile is still playing at his lips, and you’re waiting for the moment it turns into a sneer, a mocking little smirk.

    it doesn’t.

   “oh right,” you mumble. “no. i had no idea.” you pause. “are you taking the piss out of me?”

    he laughs, a rare and pleasant sound. he approaches you, kneels at your side on the sofa and cups your head in his hands. you melt into him, even though every instinct in your body is telling you to pull away, to run away, because this is nothing more than false hope. he’s playing a trick on you. you’ve annoyed him to breaking point, and now he’s found the perfect chance for revenge.

    but his hands are so warm, and nice, and your cheek dips into his palm so easily, like it belongs there.

    “you’ve always been kind of not smart in my eyes,” he says.

   your eyes widen. “hey!”

   “kidding. i’m kidding.” he chuckles, running his thumb along your lower lip. “but you’re not doing your intelligence any justice right now. i thought i was making my feelings pretty clear.”

   you glare; he knows full well he hasn’t made his feelings clear. neither of you have. you’ve spent the past seven years pretending to hate each other.

   he grins. “okay, maybe i didn’t make it so easy. but you didn’t make it easy for me, either.”

   “i still don’t believe you.”

   he raises a brow. “why?”

   you shrug. “it just doesn’t seem possible that someone like you could fall in love with someone like me.”

    his eyes soften. “wow. maybe you are not very smart.” 

   before you have a chance to protest, he kisses you. just like that, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, or maybe like it’s an action he’s been waiting to do for years, and now he’s finally got the chance. that’s what it’s like for you, this coil unravelling in your gut after years and years and years of ignoring it’s existence.

   you run your hands through his hair, tugging on those pesky strands at the back that always stick up because he refuses to wear anything other than collared shirts. he growls into your mouth, pulling you closer, closer, closer, until your legs are tangled with his, and his fingers are tracing a line down the centre of your throat. he stops at the hollow, just to feel the bob of your throat as nerves spiral through you. he grins against your mouth, pulling away to see the shock in your eyes.

    he’s so proud of himself. he’s made you a mess.

    you smile awkwardly, trying to regain some amount of composure. he watches you, heavy lidded, one hand still clutching your knee as the other curls around your throat, just where your neck and shoulders meet. the way he stares at you, it’s like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. 

     “so,” you begin. “you’re worry wasn’t actually just for your family name, was it?”

   draco sighs, plonking his forehead against your own. “no, y/n, it wasn’t. my worry was losing you. which i very nearly did tonight.”

   “don’t be so dramatic. i wouldn’t have died.”

   “you could have.”

   “but i wouldn’t have, because that guy was drunk, and a muggle, and-”

   “are you two arguing again?”

   you and draco jump apart as narcissa storms into the lounge, wand clutched to her chest. her narrowed eyes are firm on draco. 

   “i told you to keep them comfortable!” she exclaims. “can you not put your differences aside for ten minutes?”

    you grin, teasingly running a finger along draco’s spine. “yeah draco. listen to mummy.”

    he growls, but turns to narcissa and says, “sorry, mother. you know how y/n gets.”

   “yes, i know,” narcissa mumbles. “but they’re injured. now, let me take this phone call, and then we’ll set up the guest bedroom. can i leave you alone for ten more minutes?”

   “yes,” you and draco both reply immediately. narcissa hums, and walks out.

   draco immediately spins, grabs your wrist and pulls you to him, slamming his lips to yours. you laugh against his mouth, melting into the embrace for only a second before pulling away and saying, “she’s trusting us to behave for ten more minutes, draco. this isn’t behaving.”

    “oh, fuck that,” he scoffs. “come here.”

   you let him pull you closer, closer than you have ever been with him before, because you’ve always been so convinced he never wanted you more than a few feet away from him. suddenly, everything draco has ever said to you is reconstructed in your mind, every action, every little look. 

   you wonder if he’s doing the same. 

[elizabeethan]

The Swan and her Handler

Emma Swan was cursed, and the only way to break it is with True Love's Kiss. Try breaking a curse with True Love's Kiss when you're a damn swan.

Yes, it's true, I've written a CS AU based on Walnut the Crane, a crane who fell in love with her handler. I'm ashamed at how idiotic this is. It’s by far the dumbest thing I've ever written in all my life. It’s nothing more than crack written in about an hour, un-betaed and barely edited. Sorry, and you’re welcome.

Rated T for language

~2000 words

Read my other stuff

Read on Ao3

These damn idiots can’t get anything right. It was bad enough when Emma showed up on their doorstep with perfectly clear care instructions that were completely ignored, but now they keep trying to get her to reproduce as if she’s some kind of zoo animal. 

  Of course, given her current living situation, it does make at least a tiny bit of sense. 

  Ever since the curse, Emma has been stuck in a wildlife refuge and has been unable to get any of her stupid caretakers to figure out how to help her. She knows exactly what she needs, but unfortunately, no one here speaks swan and she can’t exactly hold a pen. Her care instructions were translated upon her transformation, so the one thing that could have helped her now looks like chicken-- er, swan scratch. 

  “She needs a mate,” one of the jack asses points out. “She’ll probably want to mate for life.”

  True, she thinks, although, not with any of the stinky fluff balls you have sent my way.  

  First it was Neal. He tried to mate with her, so she killed him. Last week, they put Walsh in her enclosure, and she pecked at him violently until they took pity on him and sent him to the medical unit. 

  Although today seems different, because her newest caretaker has shown up, and she realizes that he just might be exactly what she’s been looking for. 

Emma Swan, unfortunately very appropriately named, requires a mate who can break her curse, True Loves Kiss the only thing that can bring her back to her truest form as a human adult woman. And when the new dark haired, stunning eyed veterinarian comes strutting into her enclosure, she hurries towards him to get a closer look at his name tag. 

  He jumps away, making some comment about her being fiery , and she blushes, squawking at him as she tries to get closer. Killian , it reads, and if she had lips and not a bill, she would smile. 

  “We think she’s depressed,” the stupid one with the big eyes says. “She’s killed every mate we’ve tried to pair her with.” 

  Good, she thinks. I must have done more damage on Walsh than I initially thought.  

  “You’re just misunderstood, aren’t you, love?” the angel-man asks, making her squawk in agreement. She thinks she could make this quick, this man obviously understanding her horrible twist of fate, so she lunges for him once more, trying hard to kiss his hand and hoping beyond hope that it will transform her back into the woman she's supposed to be. No more feathers, she prays. 

  He exclaims again, jumping and complaining of his hand hurting as she pecks him, so she rolls her eyes and squawks angrily. “Alright, darling,” he says with his hands up, his smooth, accented voice making her heart flutter inside her chest. Her breast? She knows very little about swan anatomy, despite having been turned into one. “Perhaps she’s stressed about her environment. Have you tried giving her a dark, quiet place to nest?” 

  “Not yet,” the dumbass admits. 

  The handsome one, Killian, a name she could get used to rolling off of her tongue, steps away from her, so she hurriedly follows. “Perhaps here in this corner will do.” 

  I would love to spend time in a dark corner with you, she thinks, giving the man what she hopes is a salacious smirk. She watches appreciatively as he sits down, crossing his legs as he starts to fiddle with some sticks as if she would be interested in them. Rather than helping him to make a nest out of the twigs and leaves, she plops herself right in his lap, nestling herself into his crossed legs and gazing up at his beautiful features, earning a smile from him. 

  “There we are, love,” he says happily, clearly surprised that she chose to plant herself upon him, although he shouldn't be. Just look at him, for god’s sake. “Comfortable?” 

  She squawks loudly, making him cringe, then fluffs her feathers in an attempt to gussy herself up for him. If she’s going to earn True Love’s Kiss from this perfect specimen, she’s going to have to work for it. The man chuckles as he looks down at her-- is he gazing? -- and lifts his hand slowly, placing a finger gently upon the top of her head and petting back down her neck, sending a chill down her spine, at least she thinks it’s her spine. She pushes her head towards him again, demanding more attention in an effort to get him to fall for her. It shouldn’t take long; she’s very enchanting. 

  “She’s never been this calm,” the dumb one says, making her snap her head towards him with a glare, shouting at him in disapproval. Killian shushes her soothingly, his finger softly stroking along her stupid feathers once more and making her shut her eyes. 

  “She just needed a bit of attention, it seems.” 

  “We’d best be careful,” someone else says, the bookworm who always thinks she knows everything about swan science. Of course, she probably knows more than Swan Emma. “We wouldn’t want her to imprint on you ,” she seems to joke. 

  “That’s quite alright, isn’t it love?” he asks her, essentially giving her permission to fall in love with this handsome bastard. 

  He comes by a few times a week for the next several months, each time sitting with her in her tiny, dirty nest and not seeming to care that his pants get soiled. She’s always careful to do her business elsewhere, making sure that her prince can sit in comfort when he arrives. She gets angry with him when he brings someone new, a sickly looking male named Graham who she assures is not welcome, so Killian gives up trying to get her to mate with someone. For some reason, they're concerned about her procreating, but she can assure everyone that she will not be giving birth to a damn swan baby while she’s under this curse. 

  One day, when Killian visits near the end of his shift, he’s finally alone, leaving behind the dumb one and the book worm and giving her all of the attention she desires as his strong hand softly pets along her soft feathers. She can’t wait to get rid of these stupid feathers. 

  “You’re quite funny,” he remarks as the sun starts to set. “Unlike any swan I’ve ever met.”

  She squawks at him-- I’m not a damn swan-- and he smiles. “Quire the personality. It always seems like you’re trying to communicate with me.” 

  Yes, you stupid handsome man, that’s exactly right! She tries to nod, lifting and dropping her head in quick succession and making the beauty laugh. She nudges her head against his hand in demand of more pets. 

  “What is it you want me to know, darling?” he asks gently, his voice soft and soothing and deep. 

  She groans, a sound that comes out like a pained cry, and his face shifts. “Are you alright, love?” 

  In pure frustration, Emma drops her head against the man’s chest, likely assaulting him with how badly she smells like bird shit, and he chuckles again, letting his hand run along her feathers some more. “There, there. I know life as a swan must be difficult. All you seem to want is for someone to listen.” 

  She looks up, hoping that her expression conveys her complete and utter irritation at the fact that he’s literally hitting the nail on the head and yet he has no idea. 

  “Such a personality,” he says again. “I’ve got to head home now, love. I’m looking forward to having Chinese for dinner. Perhaps I'll bring you an eggroll tomorrow, or is that insensitive?” 

  She squawks, half because she’s laughing, and half because she would quite literally kill another potential mate for an eggroll. Wanting to beg him not to go, she gives him her best sad face through her inability to emote, and nestles her head against his palm one more time. 

  “I’ll sneak you one, love,” he laughs, and as he does, he finally, finally , leans down towards her, and plants his stupid, dumb, lucious lips upon the top of her stinky bird head. 

  Cramps start to run through her whole stupid bird body, the same ones she felt when she was cursed on Halloween decades ago. He stands, not seeming to notice her pain and discomfort until he’s a few steps away, and he turns back around. “Swan, are you alright?” he asks, as if she could answer, and she shouts back at him wordlessly. 

  She praises whatever gods might be listening as she feels things start to change, her feathers shedding as her skin is exposed to the chilly fall air. The webbing between her toes retracts, her legs turning flesh colored rather than that horrifying orange. Her bill turns back into her nose and mouth, preparing her to smooch her savior rather than peck at him. Finally, she’s back!

  “Bloody fucking hell,” Killian breathes as he stares on, Emma transforming back into her old self, laying in a heap on the ground as she brushes off the dirt and twigs and leaves. 

  “You did it,” she praises before clearing her throat, raw from misuse after all these years. She grins at him as she’s been wanting to since they met, and is met with a horrified, shocked look on his face. His jaw is gaping, his eyes wide as they catch the light of the setting sun. “I knew you would.” 

  “What the fuck?” 

  “You broke the curse,” she says happily, standing up and exposing her nude form to him, cursing the lack of feathers although she vowed she never would. Immediately, he removes his jacket, despite his shock still clearly running through him, and hands it to her. 

  “I did what now?”

  “I was cursed. Why do you think I was such a miserable swan?” 

  He’s looking around, his mouth snapping shut and dropping open in succession as he tries to process the fact that there was a swan in the enclosure just a second ago, and now there’s a frankly beautiful, naked woman standing before him. “You were cursed,” he says doubtfully. 

  “Yes, I was. An evil witch cursed me on Halloween decades ago and I've been stuck in that infernal bird form ever since. All I needed was True Love’s Kiss to break it, but imaging trying to fall in love with someone as a damn bird.” 

  “So you… you fell in love… with me…?” 

  “Obviously,” she smiles, taking a step towards him on shaky legs, tripping and falling into his waiting arms as he catches her, careful not to grope her, although she isn’t sure she would mind. “And you broke the curse, so… Do I have to tell you what that means?”

  “I-- I’m having a lot of trouble processing the fact that I've evidently been in love with a swan for months.” 

  “Well, my name is Emma Swan, so you can be in love with a Swan for the rest of your life, if you’d like.” 

  “Emma,” he murmurs, staring into her eyes and smiling when he seems to recognize her. She’s never been able to see herself in the mirror, because the book worm was worried she would attack it, but based on the way he’s staring, she would guess that the evil witch let her keep her eyes. “Do you know it just happens to be Halloween tonight?”

  “Kismet,” she says softly, gazing up at him. He lifts his hand like he did while she was planted in his lap, and she’s finally able to feel his calloused finger along the skin of her cheek, then of her neck, just as he had done before. 

  “Aye,” he agrees. “The spirit of the holiday does make this whole thing a bit easier to accept.” 

  “Yeah,” she says dismissively. “Now take me home. I was promised an eggroll and I haven't eaten anything but grass and stale bread in almost thirty years.”

~~~~

Tagging (with apologies):

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza @captainswan21 @hookedmom @lostintheskyfaraway @undercaffinatednightmare @strangestarlighttree

[diaphragmjellyfish]

What Did I Miss?

So this blog has grown a ton in the last couple of months. Going into this year, I had maybe 15 followers. Now, I’m at 100. That might not seem like a lot to some of you, but to me, that’s 100 people who love my writing. 100 people who find comfort and joy in the things I put out there. And it means so much to me <3 I always wanted to be a writer, but always felt like I got lost in the sea of content. I couldn’t come up with anything original or anything that would get noticed. And then I started writing for Cobra Kai. It’s a pretty small fandom so anything put out there gets seen. Then, I started writing what I wanted to read. Vaginismus smut/ general feminist fics are a niche that has almost no writers, but so many of you have sent me private messages saying how much those fics mean to you. So, to honor all 100 of my new followers, I have combined my two genres. I now present to you… Eli Moskowitz x vaginismus!reader. I hope you love it! 

You have been doing your physical therapy for about a year now. It was a long process, full of ups and downs, good days and bad days, but you were proud to say you were done! The biggest dilator could be easily inserted with the right amount of lube. It made you feel more...normal. Let’s just say, you weren’t exactly the most popular girl in school. People didn’t notice you. And when they did, it was “who’s that shy girl that hangs out with those losers?” Yup. Your best friends, Demitri and Eli, were the only people you really felt comfortable around at school. You found each other back in elementary school, because everyone else was making friends and running around on the playground, while you three just wanted to stay inside and play board games. So you weren’t cool, which you were okay with. But being diagnosed with vaginismus a year ago after almost passing out trying to put in a tampon had made you feel like even more of a freak. You couldn’t do the one thing girls were wanted for. You’d be alone forever. 

But it was over. You could have sex. At least, you thought you’d be able to. You never actually tried before. What if it put you right back to square one? What if you totally embarrassed yourself in front of a guy you liked? These thoughts zipped through your mind at the speed of light, faster than you could keep up with, when something snapped you back into reality. 

“Y/N?” Eli asked timidly. You guys were hanging out in his basement waiting for Demitri to show up so you could start your Lord Of The Rings marathon. Your head snapped up, eyes locking with his. 

“Yeah? Sorry,” you laughed awkwardly. You had been thinking about sex while hanging out with Eli. That wasn’t cool. 

He studied your face for a second. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, everything is fine. Is everything okay… with you?” You questioned back, trying to play it cool. 

“Umm, yeah. You’ve just been spacing out a lot today.” You were about to make up a reply when his phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of you guys. He reached over to pick it up, scanning the screen before letting out a soft sigh. “Demitri’s mom is making him repaint their kitchen. He’s not gonna be here until 9.” He looked at your face at this for a reaction. 9 o’clock.  It was 7 right now. That left you with 2 hours to be alone, here, with Eli. There weren’t many times where it had been just the two of you. Demitri was always there as a talkative icebreaker, and you hadn’t truly appreciated it until now. It was getting awkward. 

You both sat there quietly, staring at the black TV. Neither of you were very talkative people. This was probably what it was going to be like the first time you tried to have sex with someone. Awkward, quiet, and the guy would probably leave when he realized he had to be beyond gentle because of your vaginismus. Yeah, you were thinking about sex a lot lately. But you’d just finished your therapy, so of course you were wondering about all the possibilities now. 

“Y/N,” Eli spoke, this time making you jump a little. You had been spacing out again. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to drive you home?” 

“No! I mean, thanks, but I’m okay. Just have a lot on my mind today,” you laughed shyly. 

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked hesitantly. 

A pause. You definitely were not about to tell Eli about all your vagina problems, but you were itching to vent your concerns. Maybe you could just phrase it in a way so that he wouldn’t know what you were talking about. 

“I- I kind of have this thing.” You looked up at him, gaging his reaction. He was listening intently, no sign that he was about to say anything, so you kept going. “Basically, I’ve been doing physical therapy to fix it for the last year, and I’m finally done. So I’ve just been thinking about… all the things I can do now. I mean now that I’m… healed.”  

Sensing that you were done, he asked, “You seem nervous about it.” 

“I mean yeah. It kind of opens me up to a whole new world of experiences. But I still need to, I guess be careful? Take it slow. And I’m worried people might not want to… be a part of it.” 

He nodded, thinking about what you had just said. He was wildly confused, you had never seemed injured before, but he didn’t want to push you to talk.

So instead, he just said “Well I’ll always be here for you. Anything you want me to be a part of, I’m down.”

You thought about this. Eli was so understanding and supportive. He always had been. If you couldn’t tell him, you couldn’t tell any guy. Maybe this would be good practice for the conversation you’d inevitably have to have with someone. 

“Thanks. You kind of can’t be a part of it, though. I mean, it’s just really… personal.” He didn’t seem hurt by this, so you decided to let him in. “It’s kind of hard to talk about. Basically, it just causes me a lot of pain whenever I try to... “ you made some unintelligible hand gestures, hoping he would get what you meant without you having to say the word. He just shook his head no, showing that he didn’t understand. “Like, whenever I put something… inside.” You blushed deeply at this, giving Eli another hint about what you might mean. You were staring at the floor. He said nothing, and when you looked back up at him, he too was bright red. “Sorry. I’m probably making you really uncomfortable. I can just go and come back later when Demi-” 

“Y/N, it’s okay. You don’t have to go.” 

A pause. “Okay,” you replied. 

“You said that you were.... Healed. So does that mean you can, like, do stuff now?” he was still staring at the floor, fiddling with his hands as he said this. 

“Technically, yeah. I just still need to like… take it slow. And I guess I’m just nervous that no guy is gonna want to have to deal with that.”

“Well then they’re stupid,” he scoffed. You looked up at him, shocked at his little show of emotion. “Sorry. I just mean that, I know what it’s like to feel like no one will ever want you like that. And it’s dumb. You’re really cool. And smart, and funny… and pretty. And if there’s a guy that doesn’t want you just because he’s gonna have to be gentle, well he’s a grade-A asshole.” 

You laughed loudly at this, which made Eli smile at you. “Thanks. That’s really sweet of you to say,” you smiled. “And if you’re talking about your scar when you say you know what it feels like, don’t worry about that. You’re totally cute and any girl would be lucky to kiss you.” His earlier words had you feeling bold, so you figured you would compliment him back. Guys almost never got compliments, especially quiet guys like Eli, so you felt like it was important to give him the same kindness he had given you. He turned so red, he looked like he wasn’t breathing. 

“That’s not true. I mean, thanks for being nice, but no girl at school has ever wanted to kiss me.” 

Well, here’s your chance. You guys were in his basement alone, the lights were turned down, and you guys just had a super personal conversation. So you went for it. “I can think of one girl who would be honored,” you whispered into the dimly-lit room. 

You could feel his head snap up at this. You were staring at the TV again, but his gaze was piercing. The air was thick, so you turned your head to look at him. He was in awe, looking at you like you were the warm sun on the first day of spring. You guys had been sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but you scooted close to the middle. Eli looked panicked, but pushed it away, swallowing hard before scooting to meet you. He was practically shaking with nerves. Were you really about to kiss him? In answer, you looked down at his lips, then back up at his eyes. You slowly leaned in, Eli frozen in place, scared to ruin the moment. Your lips barely touched his, being sure to ghost over his scar, before you pulled away a few inches and opened your eyes. You smiled at him, and once he realized that you had just kissed him on purpose and liked it… 

You gasped as he brought his hand up to cup your cheek, leaning back in to kiss you again, slightly deeper this time. His lips were soft, but firm. He tasted like cherry chapstick and the coca cola he’d been drinking. This wasn’t your first kiss, but you knew it was his. You knew you would have to lead. So, you brought your hands up around his neck and swiped your tongue lightly over his bottom lip. You heard him sigh, and then felt him open his mouth as his tongue met yours. Sure, it was his first kiss, but damn he was a natural. Shortly after this, you pulled away again. 

“Woah,” he said, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“Woah,” you parroted with a giggle. 

“Thanks,” he said awkwardly. You laughed at this, throwing your head back. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Eli. I wanted to.” There was a beat of silence as he rubbed his thumb over your cheek. 

He said honestly, “Well I kind of feel bad now. You helped me with my problem but I didn’t help you with yours.” Your smile dropped, thinking about what he was implying. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that! I swear I’m not trying to like take advantage of you or something. I just meant that-” 

“I know what you meant. It’s fine.”  You smiled again. You knew Eli would never try to convince you to have sex with him like that. Seeing him flounder reminded you of how sweet he really was. The kind of guy you hoped you would be able to have sex with one day. “Honestly, I’ll probably just do it to get it over with. And if it hurts, I’ll just go back to therapy, and if not, great. But the anticipation is kind of killing me.” 

“Oh… well you should still do it with someone who cares about you. I mean, it’s your choice, but don’t just pick some random guy who’s not gonna care if he hurts you.” Eli was so heartfelt when he said this, you could have cried. He actually understood. And cared. And the moment was pretty intimate. 

“So you’re saying I should do it with a nice guy.”

“Well, yeah,” he responded as if it was obvious. 

“Are you a nice guy, Eli?”

He was quiet, thinking about all the meaning behind that simple sentence. After a few seconds, he nodded. You leaned back in to kiss him again, this time with much more passion. He took initiative this time, being the first to swipe his tongue over your lip and into your mouth. His hands moved from your face to your waist, supporting you when you moved to straddle his lap. You guys made out like this for a while, lost in the feeling of each other’s lips. When you finally pulled away, you were both breathing hard. 

“Wait, wait,” he stopped you from moving back in. “Are we doing this right now?” 

“Do you not want to?” you felt a pang of rejection at this. Making to move off his lap. He grabbed you firmly by the hips. 

“Are you seriously asking me that question? The girl I’ve had a crush on since 3rd grade is sitting in my lap making out with me right now. Of course I’m into it.” You smiled at this. “I guess I just feel like I want to know more about your… thing first. I don’t want to hurt you.” You were definitely making the right choice here. Eli was so genuinely kind, you knew for sure in that moment you wanted to do this with him. 

“Okay. It’s a condition called vaginismus. Basically, my pelvic muscles get super tight as like a reflex whenever I try to… do anything. And that makes it super painful,” you explained. 

He nodded in understanding before asking, “And the physical therapy? How does that work?”

“Well, there are these things called dilators,” you blushed at this. “They come in a bunch of different sizes. You start with the smallest one, and just condition your body to relax while you put it in. And when you can do it with no pain, you move up to the next size. The smallest one is like the size of my pinky, and the biggest one is like… you know.” 

“A dick?” He asked as you both laughed. 

“Yeah.” 

There was a beat of silence before he looked at you in a way that said he was completely committed. “What do you need me to do?” he asked. You felt yourself tear up a little at this. Ever since you got diagnosed, you always imagined perfect scenarios in your head in which the guy you were with asked you that question. Of course, you always believed it would stay a fantasy. No guy would realistically care this much. But it turns out there was a guy, and he was right in front of you your entire life. You leaned in and gave him a sweet kiss, which caught him a little off-guard. 

You then leaned back and began to explain. “Usually when I do my therapy, I’ll start with some breathing exercises. And then get my dilator and some lube and just kind of, sink down on it? And then I just stay there for as long as I can. Obviously sex involves a lot more movement, which is kind of the part I’m nervous about.” 

“We can go super slow. And if it ever hurts, even a little bit, I want you to tell me, okay?”

You nodded. “Are you sure you want to? I know you just had your first kiss and I want to make sure you’re ready, too.” 

“I’m ready. I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but I’ve actually imagined this situation before… a lot,” he murmured the last part. 

You laughed, and awe’d at his cuteness. “As long as you’re sure.” 

“I’m sure.” 

He leaned in to kiss you again, starting slow and building in intensity. Once the kiss got heated, you grabbed his hands that were still lightly gripping your hips, and moved them down to cup your ass. He inhaled sharply and squeezed. You moved your hands from his neck down to his chest, sliding lower and lower until they were at the hem of his shirt, and then under to his bare stomach. He shivered, and then kneaded your ass harder. 

“Can I take this off?” you asked, tugging at his shirt. He nodded and leaned forward so you could pull the hem up and over his head, his hands only leaving you for a second before they resumed their previous position. 

Your own hands roamed his chest, before he slid his hands under your shirt, silently asking for you to take it off as well. Wordlessly, you reached down, gripped the bottom and pulled it off, Eli’s eyes going straight to your bra. 

“I would have worn something a little cuter if I thought we’d-”

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he cut you off. Your face turned bright red as you smiled down at your lap. “Hey,” he said as his thumb came to your chin to lift your face back up. And then he kissed you again, sucking lightly at your bottom lip, eliciting a soft sigh from you. You started to lightly grind your hips into his, and you could immediately feel that he was already hard. His hands gripped your ass firmly, helping to guide your movements. You felt a slight pleasure between your legs, so began to grind down harder, Eli moving his own hips back up into yours. His length brushed a certain spot that made you let out a small, involuntary moan. You slapped your hand over your mouth, eyes wide. He smiled, bringing his hand up to move yours off your mouth, and grinding into you even harder, with a new sense of excitement. He moved back in, but instead of bringing his lips to yours, he brought them to your neck, licking and sucking softly. You felt a rush of heat flow through you at this, never imagining that neck kisses would feel so good. 

“Oh, wow,” you whispered. You felt him smile- no, smirk, against your neck. Then, he moved one of his hands to your stomach, lightly brushing his knuckles across the skin, before untying your sweatpants. This excited you. He slowly brought his hand under the waistband, giving you plenty of time to tell him to stop. You didn’t, and he eventually felt the fabric of your underwear, opting to stay on top of them. He rubbed your center with one of his fingers clumsily. Eli obviously had never done this before, so you did your best to move your hips on his hand to try and give him the idea of what you wanted. He seemed nervous though, and didn’t really get the hint. 

“Small circles,” you instructed breathlessly. He brought his face out of your neck, furrowing his brows in concentration. He moved his fingers like you said in small circles on your left lip. You wanted to giggle, but didn’t want to hurt his feelings, opting for bringing your hand into your pants on top of his and guiding it to the right spot, moving his fingers in tight circles with slightly more pressure than he had been using right over your clit. You moaned softly at this, closing your eyes and furrowing your brows. Eli looked at you with an adorable excitement, proud that he was able to get you to make that sound, and knew that he wanted to hear it again. He got the hang of it pretty fast, and didn’t need your hand for guidance anymore, keeping the same pace and rhythm that you had shown him. 

“Oh my god, Eli,” you whispered softly in his ear, hips grinding against his hand once again. 

“Fuck,” he whispered back, more turned on than he had ever been just from watching you. At this, you brought one of your hands down to cup him through his pants. He hissed, sitting up straighter. His jeans made it hard for you to do much, though, so you said huskily, “Do you want to take them off?” He nodded, and you stood up and took your sweatpants off as he unbuttoned his jeans and slipped them off his legs. When he looked back at you, he saw that you were taking off your underwear too, so he did as well. 

Once he was naked and you were left in just a bra, he tentatively asked you, “Should I… get a condom?” 

You had completely forgotten about protection! That was pretty important, so you responded, “Yeah, do you have one?” 

“They handed them out in health class last month,” he said nervously, answering your implied question which was Why do you have one? He stood up, walking into his room through the doorway in the basement, returning shyly with a small silver packet. You were kneeling on the couch awkwardly, not really sure what to do, when he raked his eyes over your body. There was almost a predatory look in his eyes, one that you had never seen before in Eli. A sign of confidence hidden deep down. He suddenly stopped, as if realizing something, and said “I’ll be right back,” before running upstairs butt-naked. Thank God no one else was home! He returned with a jar of coconut oil in his hand. “I know you said you normally use lube, and I don’t really have any of that, so I thought we could use this? Or I can run to CVS and get some if you want, it’s up to you!” He added that last part hurriedly. 

You took the jar from him, opening it and gathering a small amount on your fingers before rubbing them together, testing the substance. “This should work just fine, thank you.” 

(Guys please don’t use oil as lube, it can break down the condom! Sorry for the 4th wall break!)

He looked at you for guidance, questioning, “So, how do you want to do this?” 

You looked around for a second, before deciding “You can sit down again. I think I want to be on top. Just so I have more control and stuff.” He nodded understandingly and went to sit back down on the couch, holding his hands out to you as you straddled his hips once more. 

“This?” he asked as he brought his hand up to your bra strap, slipping it down your shoulder in a wordless plea to take it off, which is exactly what you did. When your breasts were exposed, you thought Eli’s eyes were going to pop out of his head. He never thought he’d see actual boobs one day, and here they were, right in his face, attached to his naked crush who was sitting on his lap. What a day. He brought his hands up to gently cup them, making you smile at his softness.

“Having fun?” you joked. He just looked at you and giggled, nodding his head. You took the condom packet and opened it, sliding the slippery rubber out. “Do you have any idea how to use this?” You questioned with a laugh. 

“Yeah, here,” he took it from you, placing it on the tip of his dick and rolling it down the length, inhaling sharply at the feeling. He reached for the coconut oil once more and took a finger-full, melting it between his hands and spreading it all over the condom, before taking the remainder on his fingers and rubbing softly at your center. He watched your face intently for any signs of discomfort as he did so. When he found none, he brought his pointer and middle finger back to your clit, rubbing circles once again, making you let out a sigh and tip your head back. He did this for several more moments, until your hips began to writhe. 

“Okay,” you said to tell him you were ready to try. 

“Hey, I just wanted to say… please don’t be insecure about anything. Take all the time you need, and if it hurts, we can stop and I won’t be disappointed or anything. I promise. I want you to be comfortable.” 

You kissed him in response, smiling as you pulled away. “Thank you.”

You sat up on your knees, taking his dick in your hand and lining it up with your entrance, rubbing it back and forth to distribute the lubricant. You closed your eyes, taking some deep breaths to relax your muscles, and lightly sank down in his tip. You stopped about an inch in to adjust, before lifting off and sinking back down again, 2 inches this time, before stopping to adjust once more. You kept this up until you could take about half of him comfortably, realizing it was taking a long time. You opened your eyes to look at Eli, and noticed that he had his eyes closed, brows furrowed, jaw clenched, breathing labored. Jesus, he was probably dying right now. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, full of embarrassment. His eyes snapped open at this. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, embracing you. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

“It’s taking a long time and I can tell you’re not having fun,” you worried. 

“I’m having the time of my life right now, Y/N. Seriously. This is the most amazing feeling I’ve ever felt. Please don’t worry about me. This is about you.”

This was everything you really ever wanted. A guy who was giving you the time you needed to adjust and be comfortable. Why the heck were you questioning it??

You smiled lightly at his kind words, nodding your head in agreement, and then started your routine of up, down, pause, again. Several minutes later, you were fully seated on Eli’s cock. You didn’t move, instead saying “This is normally where I stop. I’m not really sure what to do now.” He brought his hands up to cup your face, kissing you softly. 

“I guess, you can stay like this for as long as you need? And then maybe we can try moving a little bit?” he answered. You nodded in response, and after a few moments, you lifted your hips and sank back down. The friction felt slightly uncomfortable, but you tried again nonetheless in an effort to power through it. This time, you felt a stinging sensation, wincing lightly but hoping Eli wouldn’t notice. He did. 

“Stop,” he muttered. 

“I can keep going,” you pleaded. 

“Y/N, I said stop.” You did. “You’re in pain,” he pointed out. 

“I’m fine,” you said, but avoided his gaze. 

“Why are you lying?” he questioned, sounding hurt, which made you finally look at him. 

“I- I… I don’t know. I want to be able to do this, but it stings,” you said sadly. 

“Well then we’ll stay just like this,” he said sweetly as he brought a hand up to pet your hair. You once again nodded, too mad at yourself to say anything. “You’re doing so good,” he added. 

Instead of answering, you leaned in to kiss him. Making out had been fun, but making out while Eli was inside you was a whole new level of intimacy. His hands wandered everywhere. First to cup your face, then down to squeeze your breasts, then to the small of your back and around to your ass. After a few minutes of this, he brought one of his hands back around and down to your center. And this boy was a fast learner. He had the exact right spot, rhythm, and pressure on the first try this time, making you moan softly into his mouth. He smiled into the kiss, proud that he got you feeling good again. He kept this up, careful not to change a thing. You felt a heat pool in your stomach, your center craving more, so you began to involuntarily grind your hips into his hand. 

You gasped as the tip of his dick put pressure on a certain spot inside you. He noticed your gasp, letting the hand that wasn’t on your clit go to your hip in an effort to guide you to grind against him some more. Once you realized this movement didn’t hurt, you rolled your hips over his. Not the up and down that you had tried before, but side to side, back and forth, and in circles. And it felt good. You began to let out small moans at the combination of the pressure inside you and the feeling of Eli’s fingers massaging you. His eyebrows began to furrow and his breathing labored. This was his first time, so the small movements you were making were enough to bring him to the edge. 

“Shit, Y/N,” he murmured. You moaned loudly in response, and the sound made Eli’s eyes roll back in his head. He had to think of the most un-sexy things just to keep himself from cumming. You guys kept at it for god knows how long, until you felt that heat in your stomach turn into a heavy knot about to unravel. 

“Eli, I think I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, almost surprised. You had not been expecting an orgasm during your first time. You kept grinding your hips at the same pace, hoping that he would keep doing exactly what he was doing with his fingers. And he did. Your moans got higher and higher in pitch as you got closer to the edge, your legs beginning to shake from the effort. Your stomach dropped, and you came hard, mouth open in a silent scream. 30 seconds later, you came down, finally opening your eyes to see Eli looking at you like you were an absolute goddess. You reached down to peel his fingers off you, the sensations becoming too much to handle. However, you kept grinding in an effort to get Eli to cum too. About a minute later, his eyes squeezed shut as his hips stuttered under you and he spilled into the condom.

As soon as he opened his eyes, the first thing he said was, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You huffed a laugh, “I’m more than okay. That was awesome.”

He looked relieved that you had had a good time, and nodded, “Yeah, totally awesome.” 

You gave him one last kiss before sitting up and pulling off of him. As you stood, your legs shook, knees threatening to give out. “Woah,” you murmured under your breath. 

“Here,” Eli said as he guided you by the waist to lay on the couch. He went into the bathroom and came out with a clean, damp towel and wiped you off as best he could before handing it to you to finish up. He gathered both of your clothes, handing yours back to you, when his phone once again buzzed on the coffee table. He picked it up when his face suddenly dropped. 

“Shit. Demitri’s here.” 

You both shared a shocked look before scrambling to get dressed. Eli threw the coconut oil and condom wrapper into the bathroom, and turned to notice your neck covered in hickeys. He ran into his room, grabbing a hoodie and walking over to you, motioning for you to put your arms up. He put the hoodie on you, and pulled your hair up through the hood to cover the sides of your neck. Just then, you heard the front door open and Demitri yell “Hey guys! You better not have started without me!” He rounded the corner and came down the stairs, looking at both of you sitting on opposite sides of the couch, staring at the black TV screen just as you had been exactly 2 hours ago. He plopped down on the couch in between you guys and grabbed the remote, switching it on. When he went to put it back on the coffee table, he noticed a small scrap of fabric on the floor. He bent down, grabbed, and held up your underwear. 

“Ok, what the fuck did I miss?”

[jungblue]

aphrodite in war pt.3 | preview

note: This is just a short preview for AiW pt3. I know I left things on a terrible cliffhanger a few months ago. Life got extremely and unexpectedly hectic, but things are starting to get a little bit better, and I hope to get the full chapter out next month. Also, I appreciate everyone who has sent me messages during this time. I will eventually answer all of them, I promise. And I hope anyone who liked AiW enjoys this snippet!

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: comedy, fluff, angst, eventual smut / greek life, fake dating, roommates, lovers to enemies and back to lovers au

description: Everyone knew about the war that had been brewing on the edge of campus for the past two years. Sorority versus Fraternity; a showdown for the ages. However, when the escalating antics between them yields the consequence of possible suspensions for both chapters, the presidents of each house must come together to try and figure out how to end this battle… Which is kind of hard, considering they were the ones responsible for it in the first place.

→ part one / part two

Leave or stay? Leave or stay? Leave or stay? The decision should have been harder, or at the very least leaving should have been an option that was considered more heavily. After all, there was technically nothing wrong with this situation. This was his apartment and you weren’t supposed to be moving in for a few days, so in theory this was perfectly understandable — But plans change.

Classes get cancelled. Move in dates get pushed up. You walk in on your ex-boyfriend turned current fake boyfriend mid-fuck. So yeah, leaving was probably the more appropriate response… But the declaration of “Well, honey, I’m home now,” forced its way past your lips regardless; the door closing behind you and marking your choice to stay.

“Y/N!” Jungkook shouted, yanking a blanket off of the floor that you assumed had fallen during their… activities, and pulling it over their bodies. “Jesus fucking Christ! What’re you doing here?”

At this point the girl beneath Jungkook had the covers smashed against her face, clearly embarrassed by this ordeal. You admittedly felt bad, knowing that if you were in this position you would also be cowering beneath the blanket and wanting to sink into the pits of the Earth. But again, the decision had already been made. You were in the apartment and Jungkook’s glare of death was currently trying to claw its way past your skin.

You weren’t going to back down though. Instead, you kept a smile plastered on your face and started to walk past the couch and stood in front of a room that was empty aside from some basic furniture. “I assume this is mine?” You asked casually, and that seemed to only infuriate him more.

He scoffed. “Are you serious?” And suddenly he was sitting up and yanking on his boxers before stomping towards you. “That’s what you’re asking right now?”

“I mean I do have to know where to put my stuff. Unless you’re trying to get me to stay in your room?” You paused and glanced towards the couch. “But from what I can see you probably have enough company in there as it is.”

Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut and slammed his palms against his temples with a groan. “First of all, you weren’t supposed to be moving in yet, so the courteous thing to do when you see something like that is to fucking turn around and leave.”

At this point the snarky attitude you were putting on was starting to get replaced with actual anger. You dropped all of the bags you had wrapped around various parts of your body onto the floor inside of the room so that you could face him without pounds of clothes weighing you down.

“My class was cancelled, and I wasn’t about to carry all of my bags back downstairs just because you decided to get your dick wet in the middle of the living room and not your own bed.”

Jungkook stared at you with this incredulous smile, as if he couldn’t believe that you thought that you were right in this situation. And in all honesty you weren’t sure if you were right. If the roles had been reversed, you probably would’ve wanted him to leave, so, sure, maybe you were being a giant hypocrite and maybe you should’ve apologized, but unfortunately you didn’t get the chance to before he decided to make his final, stinging comment.

“Jesus, just stop, Y/N.” He paused, and it felt as though he was looking down at you with such pity. “Stop making bitchy comments about my sex life every chance you get. It hasn't been your business for a long time now, so just drop the guilt trips already.”

You recoiled at how hard his words slapped you across the face with humiliation. It stunned you, and you were left standing there, unsure of how to even respond. Instead, your eyes danced across the floor, not wanting to see that pitiful expression being cast towards you. And you might’ve just stood there, forever paralyzed by his words, if not for a thankful interruption.

“I don’t know what the hell’s going on here, but I’m leaving.” You glanced towards the woman that had been lying beneath Jungkook when you walked in. She was fully dressed now. You had been so consumed with your short-lived argument that you hadn’t even noticed her putting her clothes on. “Bye,” She hissed, clearly annoyed, and you didn’t blame her for that.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jungkook repeated before turning to do a short jog towards her and putting his hand on her waist. “I’m so sorry. I know this has gotta seem beyond fucking weird.”

“Uhm, yeah.” She scoffed. “What is this? Were you using me to cheat on your girlfriend, asshole?”

“No, no, that’s not it. She’s my… ex-girlfriend.” He paused, probably trying to search for a simple explanation, but there was so no simple explanation for this circumstance that the two of you had put yourself in. “It’s very complicated.”

She let out a small laugh as she rolled her eyes. “Well, have fun figuring that out.”

Jungkook tried to say something else, but she was already pushing her way outside. And you decided to follow her lead, because before he could even turn around to face you again, you had already slammed the bedroom door behind you before sliding down to the floor. You buried your head between your knees, muttering to yourself about how much of an idiot you were between shaky breaths.

[cringesideblog]

here’s my dnf playlist and a complete song by song track-list and why I put them on it.

heatwaves- on here for very obvious reasons. i don’t think I need to explain. but here are some lyrics anyway. “Sometimes all I think about is you, late nights in the middle of June.”

Jenny- again this is kinda obvious. “I wanna ruin our friendship, we should be lovers instead, I don’t know how to say this, cuz you’re really my dearest friend.”

TALK ME DOWN- this one just has the best friends pining for eachother vibe. “I wanna sleep next to you, and that’s all I wanna do right now.”

Dark paradise- kinda has dream smp vibes. but also you could argue heatwaves vibes. “Everytime I close my eyes, it’s like a dark paradise.” “There’s no relief, I see you in my sleep.” “There’s no release, I feel you in my dreams.”

Sweater weather- yeah you know why. you absolutely know why. “All I am is a man, I want the world in my hands. I hate the beach but I stand, in California with my toes in the sand.”

Drop the Guillotine- idk man just vibey. give it a listen you’ll get it. it’ll click. “You sure know how to drop that guillotine on me, though you would never wanna see me bleed.”

Can I call you tonight?- thats on their only for of communication being through the phone huh. (major heatwaves vibe) “powers out and I can’t turn the fan on, so can I call you tonight? trying make up my mind, just how I feel.”-“I hear your voice on the phone, now I’m no longer alone.”

Lemon boy- oh my god this song. geogre do be seeing dream as his lemon boy. “I helped him plant his seeds and we’d mow the lawn in bad weather.”

Yellow- DREAM IS LITERALLY GEORGES YELLOW SHUT UP RIGHT NOW. “Look at the stars, look how they shine for you.” “For you I’d bleed myself dry.”

Like you do- first of all I love this song, second, this has dream being a little too attached vibes. The whole song is just them. “Lost in the blue, they don’t love me like you do, those chills that I knew they were nothing without you, and everyone else they don’t matter now. You’re the one I can’t lose, no one loves me like you do.” “Since I met you, all the gloomy days just seem to shine a little more brightly.”

I saw you in a dream- mega heatwaves vibe. “When I’m awake I can’t switch off,” “I saw you in a dream, you came to me. You were the sweetest apparition, such a pretty vision.”

Maybe you’re the reason- did someone say pining best friend who doesn’t know that they’re in love ? this song. this song right here. “I keep looking for something, even though I know that it’s not there. Maybe you’re the reason. And anytime I try to figure it out, you’re the only thing I can think about.”

The king- DREAM SMP VIBE. “You like me, well obviously, so why you tryna leave when you know that I’m the king?” “Other lovers give you no luck, cuz I’m the only one who’s made you fall in love.” “Playing with your heart cuz you gave me the throne.”

Sweet- an adorable song truly that actually fits them so well. “Watching the, video that you sent me- you know that I’m obsessed with your body, but it’s the way you smile that does it for me.” “It’s so sweet, knowing that you love me.”

Apocalypse- um okay here me out, apocalypse au?? yeah i know it’s cute as shit you’re welcome. “Your lips my lips, apocalypse.” “When you’re all alone, I will reach for you, when you’re feeling low, I will be there too.”

Fear of the Water- don’t come for me this ones kinda sad, beautiful song though. “If this was meant for me why does it hurt so much, and if you’re not made for me why did we fall in love?”

Dreaming of you- two words, heat. waves. but also yeah good song for them in general. “Want you all the time, and now I’m dreaming, dreaming, dreaming, dreaming of you.”

Wires- uhhhhh dream smp vibe, dream villain arc n all . “If he said help me kill the president, id say he needs medicine.” “He said that I should take it in, listen to every word he’s speaking.”

Midnight love- it’s girl in love so, you already know how it issss. “I know I don’t want to, be the one that you run to, when you’ve got nowhere else to go, when you need some love.” “I always give in to give you it all.” “I can’t be your midnight love, when your silver is my gold.”

The beach- SUCH A HEATWAVES SONG JUST LISTEN. “I feel it burning me, I feel it burning you.” “I think I can see the beach, I know what’s underneath. I need you here with me,”

Cherry flavored- the neighborhood just.. they have a dnf vibe. “Cherry flavored conversations with you got me hanging on. Down to earth from all the waiting. Take me somewhere beyond.”

Pretty boy- geogre is a pretty boy. point blank period. “Even if my heart stops beating, you’re the only thing I need with me.” “Pretty boy, you did this with me boy.” “As long as I got you, I’m gonna be alright.”

Bad idea- girl in reddd... but like imagine them casually hooking up and not knowing their in love tho. also I feel like they would definitely think that their relationship is a “bad idea” bc they’re stupid. “It was a bad idea, to think I could stop, was such a bad idea, I can’t get enough.” “Darling your so pretty it hurts.”

Line without a hook- ICONIC!! dream definitely does not think that he deserves george. “You can hold my hand if no ones home.” “All my emotions feel like explosions when you are around” “Oh baby I am a wreck without you.” “She’s a, she’s a lady, and I am just a boy. She’s a, she’s a lady, and I am just a line without a hook.”

Say you hate me- mega dream smp vibes as of recently. with the whole removing geogre as king. “I guess that your friends where right, from the start when they thought that I was a bad guy.” “Can you just say that you hate me? Or that you will never love me?” “Never meant to make you leave, never meant to make you cry.”

Cherry bomb- reminds me of how dream cheated on fundy with geogre. “I’m too close to crushing, and I’m too close for comfort I’m rushing.” “I ask how shes so mellow, she tells me her shades are in yellow.”

This side of paradise- I mean, like, kinda heatwaves vibes, but also just them. “Ask me why my hearts inside my throat. I’ve never been in love I’ve been alone.” “If you’re lonley come be lonley with me.”

Linger- geogre literally has that boy wrapped around his finger and I can’t not see it in this song. But when you look into it HELLA dream smp vibes, lyrics can be switched for either perspective here. “You know I’m such a fool for you, you got me wrapped around your finger.” “I thought the world of you, I thought nothing could go wrong, but I was wrong,”

august- i don’t know what is but this song is for them. it just is. “To live for the hope of it all. Cancel plans just in case you'd call” “So much for summer love, and saying “Us” Cause you weren't mine to lose”

I was an island- i just love the idea of them being hardasses and not thinking they need anyone until the other comes into their life and rocks their world. kinda dream smp vibes “I was a fighter, and I was so brave, but I lowered my sword when you held me and swore you’d stay.” “I was a wolf, dear, apart from the pac But you answered my cries in the dead of the night and told me that you had my back,”

Golden- k this one feeds into the “you’re literally the sun in my sky I’m not worthy” feel “I know you were way too bright for me I'm hopeless, broken” “I know that you're scared Because hearts get broken” “I can feel you take control Of who I am and all I've ever known Loving you's the antidote”

Strong- ummm okay but the “we’re better together” dynamic is them “I’m sorry if I say I need ya, but I don’t care I’m not scared of love.” “when I’m not with you I’m weaker is that so wrong? Is it so wrong, that you make me strong.”

Fly out west- the whole, I need to see you, you’re all I think about, stuff gets me. also heatwaves vibe. “Well tell me do you know? You’re all I dream about. Take it from me I’m too dumb to recognize your doubt.”

Cruel summer- them and summer, you dig? “I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you.” “I love you and that the worst thing you ever heard?”

Nothings gonna hurt you baby- I put this one on here because of how protective dream is over geogre “Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby, as long as your with me you’ll be just fine. Nothings gonna hurt you baby, nothings gonna take you from my side.”

Cardigan- young love, the kind of lover that makes you feel like you are the most important thing in the world to them “when you are young they assume you know nothing, but I knew you-“ “and when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone’s bed, you put me on and said I was your favorite.”

Cry baby- them being in that weird stage where they recognize that it might be more than just senseless flirting and they might have feelings but also being paranoid that they’re the only one with feelings uh- “I can taste it my hearts breaking, please don’t say it. That you know, when you know.” “I know I’ll fall in love with you baby, but that’s not what I wanna do baby.”

Speak now- literally the fundy dream wedding. i rest my case. “I hear the preacher say speak no or forever hold your peace.” “Dont say yes runaway now.”

I love you so- this song is cute on the surface but kinda sad once you look into it. it’s kinda about a codependent love that isn’t going well. “I gotta get away and let you go I gotta get over, but I love you so.” “You were cool and I’m a fool so please let me go.”

In conclusion I’d really appreciate if you could check it out :) <3

[astrobyoph]

This is the long post

Hey guys

This is irritating. Beyond frustrating, idk how to put it.

So someone sent me an anonymous ask — 3 times. Goodness me, THREE times, and when i say time i don’t mean making mistakes in their ask, i wont make a post about that. They sent me

3 different questions

Now i dont know about y’all, but I for one know that you can’t go unnoticed. When i realised this at first i thought I was overreacting, but I got some help from some very amazing people, thank you @glitterythingz @pistoletrose @medusaaaaaaaaaa @vicxy @neptuniant. Analysed from messaging style wise to getting their intuitive feedback, i wasn’t overreacting. I’ll post the receipts below this post, so just scroll down and maybe you can understand what I mean.

It’s really funny to some extent, because don’t forget you’re asking for an intuitive game, how do you think you’ll go unnoticed? I’d never understand that. Despite trying to be nice to cover up your idk, greed? Creators aren’t stupid. And i’m very sure i’m not the only one who’s encountered this. To any other creator, I’m really sorry you have to go through this, i understand your frustration too.

I’m actually not mad because they sent 3 diff questions, I’m mad because they literally think i’m like stupid or something, it feels like an insult to my intelligence and my work. And honestly i felt like just shutting down the entire game right now, but i think that’s selfish of me to the other people who might join. But, this is the last game where Anon is on. Next game, or whatever it is Anon will be OFF, I dont need something like this happening again. I might not hold another big game till August because of school tbh. But when its normal times without games and stuff, anon will be on for people who wanna ask placement questions and stuff.

With this said, I’m really sorry I have to switch up and be harsh because this is frankly just, not it. I’m really thankful for all the support, I really am. Thank you for being so kind to me, especially because i’m new and not the best, I really appreciate your love & stuff. Take care everyone ❤️

(P.S I’ll answer a few asks today slowly, most likely more will be at night though)

[onecanonlife]

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned. 

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 4,598)

--------------------

Part Three: Wilbur

Wilbur oversleeps.

He doesn’t mean to. He never means to. But he does, and when he wakes up and finds the sun halfway to its peak, definitely mid-morning rather than the predawn he was hoping to find, it serves as a shock to his system, and all he can think is, shit. Because sure, he’s been pretty fucking exhausted lately, but that’s no excuse. He’s supposed to be the leader here, and leaders can’t lead when they’re sleeping.

And gods above know what Tommy’s managed to get into this morning, or what Dream’s done, because Dream’s been suspiciously quiet over the past few days and there could be an attack at any moment now, and shit, shit, shit.

He fumbles his way through dressing, tries to neaten his hair, fails utterly, and gives up and pulls his beanie on over it. Not very professional, but it’s fine. This is fine. He can’t hear any screams, so nobody’s dying. Probably.

He steps outside of the hastily-constructed house he claimed for his own, and it’s less of a house, really, than a single room with walls and a roof liable to cave in at any second, but it serves for now, and he never claimed to possess his father’s building prowess. There will be time for infrastructure development after independence is secured. But he steps outside, squinting against the sunlight, and finds—everything in order. Everything looks fine. Nothing is on fire, except for the ever-burning camarvan. The walls still stand.

That should be his next step. The walls.

He climbs his way up, surveying the area. The surrounding lands appear just as they were left last night. No ominous structures set up. No fucking TNT cannons. All is calm, peaceful, and he has learned not to trust peace, these past few weeks, but if everything is alright for now, he’ll accept it gladly. Even if it doesn’t last.

He sighs, bracing his hands against the battlements. All too often, these days, he’s found his mind wandering down paths they never would have before. He can’t help but wonder what Phil would think if he knew the full extent of what he’s up to. His father tried so hard, when he was younger, to shield him from war, from the legacy that he and his best friend laid out behind them. And Wilbur cannot blame him for that protectiveness; his first experience of war has only been a few weeks long, and he’s finding he doesn’t care for it, even if he’s discovered a knack for tactics.

The thing is, though, he’s always wanted a legacy of his own.

Phil always said that it would be through his music. He never told him that he had his doubts about that, that he loves his songs but that something in him always calls for more, something just out of reach, just beyond the crest of the next hill. He’s not sure his father knows how ambitious he really is, in the end.

He should probably write him. He’ll do it after the war is over. After he has a country to invite him to see. After he’s built something that his dad will be proud of. And if he leaves out the struggle it took to get it, nobody has to know but him, because it’s certainly better that Phil doesn’t.

“Hello, Wilbur,” Dream says, right by his ear, and he jerks, pulling his sword from his inventory in an instinctive motion. How he missed the bastard’s approach, he has no idea, but Dream is standing right there, right on the walls next to him, covered head to toe in netherite armor, smiling mask firmly affixed to his face. He holds no weapons yet, but Wilbur knows all too well how quickly that can change.

“You’re trespassing on L’Manberg property,” he snaps, trying to disguise the frantic racing of his heart. His feet shift into a ready stance, a movement that’s old hat by now, both from this war and from Technoblade’s training when he was a kid, even though the sword will never be his weapon of choice. “With armor on, too. You’re not allowed to wear armor within our borders.”

He doesn’t know why he bothers to try. Dream won’t obey. He never does. That’s why they’re at war in the first place.

But then, to his shock, Dream chuckles, inclining his head. And then, piece by piece, the armor disappears, accompanied by the familiar clink of metal landing in an inventory slot.

“Right, right,” Dream says, as if he hasn’t just blown all of Wilbur’s expectations out of the water. “Of course. I guess I really should be trying to get off on the right foot with you, here. Congratulations, by the way. I’m sure you were happy to hear the news.”

What is he—?

What is this? Is he trying psychological warfare now? Is that what this is? Because Wilbur has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. Is he supposed to know what he’s talking about? Dream’s acting like he should know what he’s talking about, and he doesn’t particularly want to give him the upper hand by revealing that he does not, in fact, have any idea what he’s talking about.

“Thank you,” he manages, a beat too late, but Dream doesn’t seem to notice, just continues on blithely.

“I just figured we should set up an official meeting of some kind,” he says. “One country leader to another. Get some peace treaties drawn up, write some trade agreements, draw some official boundaries, all of that stuff. I’ll admit, I’ve never done any of that before, but it can’t be too hard, right?”

“Right, I’m sure,” Wilbur replies, nodding along. Because, what?

“It doesn’t have to be right away,” Dream continues, and he just keeps talking. “I can give you a day or two to settle in, get stuff in order. There’s no real rush, but we should get it done soon. I don’t want to leave anything up in the air. That’s not the kind of thing that promotes stability.”

“Of course,” he says.

Dream goes to say something else, and then stops, tilting his head again. This time, it’s less mocking, more curious. “You do know what I’m talking about, right?” he says, and the game is up. Wilbur feels caught, but he breathes deeply, fights off his rising blush, gathers up all his composure.

“I’ll be entirely honest,” he says. “I’ve got no idea what the shit you’re on about right now.”

He’s not expecting that to make Dream laugh. But he does, tossing his head back and carrying on, loud and long, and then it devolves into a tea kettle wheeze. Genuine amusement, then, though at what, Wilbur isn’t sure. He doesn’t appreciate being laughed at, but he can’t help but feel like there’s something going on here that’s going straight over his head. He doesn’t appreciate that very much, either.

“Oh my god,” Dream manages, as soon as he’s capable of speech, mirth still dancing in his voice, “he didn’t tell you? Still?”

Something icy gets its claws around his heart.

“Who didn’t tell me?” he demands. “Who didn’t tell me what?”

“Tommy,” Dream answers, and those claws squeeze. His heart skips several beats, and suddenly, he’s casting back in his mind to the last time he saw Tommy. It was last night, wasn’t it? Just last night? He sent him to bed, because Tommy often tries to take late watches, claims himself capable, but he’s not even quite sixteen yet. Wilbur may have pulled him into a war, but he’s still a teenager, and Wilbur’s going to do his damnedest to make sure he comes out of this as intact as possible. And that means getting enough sleep.

He looked fine, last night. He was fine. He has to be fine.

He’s moving before he realizes it, his hand fisting in the front of Dream’s hoodie.

“If you’ve done something to Tommy, I’m tossing you off this wall right here and now,” he snarls. “Don’t test me, Dream.”

A year ago, a month ago, he never would have pictured himself making a threat like that. Never would have imagined himself capable of following through. But he is different, now, from the way he started, different already, and there is a part of him, a part of him that whispers to him in crows’ voices, that is scared of what he will be by the time the war is done.

“I haven’t done anything to Tommy!” Dream protests, raising both hands, though he sounds unconcerned. “I swear, I haven’t. He gave us a really good chance to, last night, but we didn’t take it. You should thank us for that. It was pretty stupid, what he did.”

“Explain,” he demands. “Explain right now.”

Tommy’s a resourceful kid. He can picture him getting himself in and out of an altercation easily. But the way Dream says it, it’s like he put himself in the situation in the first place, like he sought it out, and what the hell was Tommy even doing, outside of the walls so late at night? The walls are there for a reason. The walls are there for protection. The walls are there to keep his people safe, because maybe he didn’t exactly set out to start a country, in the very beginning, but he’s going to see it through. By all the gods, he’s going to see it through.

If, that is, this kid doesn’t give him a heart attack first.

Dream shoves at his hand, and he lets him go without an argument. Dream takes a step back, putting a bit more space between them, and then leans against the wall.

“Tommy came to us last night,” he says, “and traded his discs for L’Manberg’s independence.”

It’s a simple sentence. A very simple sentence. But somehow, the words don’t make any sense.

“Congratulations, President Soot,” Dream says, and he knows, he knows the bastard is smiling under that mask. “I look forward to establishing relations between our countries,” and he isn’t, Wilbur knows that he isn’t, but he’s enjoying this because he’s just dropped a bomb on him and he knows it, because—

“Leave,” he rasps. “Get out.”

Dream does a little salute, short and mocking, and then hops over the side of the wall. Wilbur hopes he takes damage, hopes he breaks his fucking legs. The sound of water hitting the ground tells him that he doesn’t. He can’t even be upset about it, because his heart has jumped into his throat, pounding in his ears, and all of the words were fine individually, but all together, they’re too much to process.

Tommy gave up his discs. And now L’Manberg is free. Just like that, the war is over. And Tommy gave up his discs. Tommy walked straight into enemy territory without telling him and handed over his most prized possessions, all for the sake of L’Manberg’s independence. And he succeeded. He got it. He sacrificed something dear to him, something that Wilbur never would have asked him to give up, and he did it for them. For L’Manberg.

Giddiness is the first emotion that fills him, and next is pride. Because this—this is above and beyond. He never would have asked Tommy to trade away something so important to him, but somehow, he found it within himself to do it, and he got what he wanted from it. He got what they all wanted. Somehow, Tommy managed to end their struggles in one fell swoop, and they’re not related, neither by blood nor by adoption or anything like that, but Wilbur thinks that this must be the sort of pride an older brother feels when watching the younger grow up, watching the younger go on and accomplish great things.

They are free, and it is because of Tommy. He feels like he’s on cloud nine. He feels like he could fly.

And then reality crashes back in.

Tommy didn’t tell him that he was planning this. Tommy didn’t tell him, might not have told anyone at all, and that means he strolled straight into the arms of their bitter enemies, people who might have killed him without a second thought. No one has died yet, and he always intended to keep it that way, but the thought of Tommy alone, at night, creeping his way into the belly of the beast, sends a chill down his spine.

Tommy could have died. Tommy could have died, and he wouldn’t have known until he woke up this morning, woke up late, and saw the message on his comm. TommyInnit was slain by Dream.

And then, another thought occurs to him: Tommy hasn’t come to him. Hasn’t come to brag, hasn’t even come to just tell him, to tell him that he’s just single-handedly won their independence. And that is not a Tommy-like thing to do, to let something like that go unremarked upon.

Something is wrong. Dream might have lied. He could have hurt Tommy. Tommy could be injured right now. He doesn’t even know for sure that he made it back.

Tommy gave up his discs for L’Manberg.

It still barely makes any sense to him. But there’s no time to make sense of it. He rushes back down the wall as quickly as he can manage, and then it’s off through their settlement, eyes darting around, hoping for a glimpse of him. He checks Tommy’s house, first, the ramshackle, makeshift thing he’s been sharing with Tubbo until they can get better buildings erected, and he’s not there, and Tubbo isn’t either. The camarvan turns up nothing. He’s considering leaving L’Manberg entirely, going to check by Tommy’s other house, the one built into the hill, when Tubbo comes up beside him.

“Morning, Wilbur,” he says, and then frowns. “You alright, man? You’re kind of pale.”

“Tubbo,” he says, and grabs him by the shoulders. Maybe a bit too emphatically, because he suddenly looks a bit alarmed, but he’ll be concerned with that later. “Tubbo, have you seen Tommy today?”

Tubbo’s frown deepens. “I was coming to see if you knew where he was,” he says. “He was being a bit off last night. Think he had a nightmare or something. But he’s not with you?”

“No, he’s not.” With every word out of Tubbo’s mouth, he feels his own panic grow. It is one thing for Tommy to hatch some sort of plot and not tell him. That is—well, it’s not fine, but Tommy doesn’t tell him everything. But to keep Tubbo out of the loop? To, presumably, visit him before leaving and yet still not tell Tubbo what was going on? It’s unlike him. Very unlike him.

“Okay, well, he’s got to be around here somewhere,” Tubbo reasons, his brows creased. “L’Manberg’s only so big. Should we go look for him together, then?”

“Right,” he says. He breathes, in and out. Tubbo’s a good kid. Very sensible. Very down to earth. And he’s right, of course. Tommy has to be around here somewhere. Any other possibility is out of the question. “Right, of course, let’s go look.”

So they do. They take a systematic approach, first checking all the most likely places and then combing every inch of their land in a grid formation. Tubbo’s suggestion, again. But that turns up nothing, either, and he can feel the panic creeping back in, because what if he actually didn’t make it home? What if he was out there in the dead of night, distraught and alone, and something took advantage of that? What if some mob looked at him and recognized him for an easy kill?

He’s not dead. He can’t be dead. There would have been a notification. But he could be injured somewhere, incapacitated, in pain and all alone, and he can’t let that happen, can’t let Tommy be hurt like that on his watch—

“Oh, wait,” Tubbo says, and pulls on his sleeve. “There he is.”

Wilbur jerks, and stares in the direction he’s pointing. And sure enough, Tommy’s there, right in front of the camarvan, and Eret too, it looks like. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt relief as pure as in this moment.

“Gods,” he breathes, and starts toward them, calling out, “Tommy!” And as he approaches, he gets the sense that something is off.

The first thing he notices is Eret’s expression. Pure, unbridled confusion, mixed with what perhaps might be something like anxiety. And the reason for that is clear enough: Tommy is holding their face very firmly in his hands. Which is bizarre, and Wilbur blinks a few times to make sure he’s seeing this right, because Tommy doesn’t—he doesn’t just do that. That is a gesture reserved only for people he is very, very close to. Tubbo gets that treatment. He’s been on the receiving end a couple of times himself, but not often. And he knows that Tommy and Eret get along just fine, are friends, just like all of them are, but he really didn’t think that the two of them were close enough for this. And judging by the look on Eret’s face, they didn’t think so either.

And Tommy is just standing there. Not speaking, not doing anything else. Just staring Eret in the eyes—or the glasses, rather—with a startling intensity.

“Tommy?” he asks, as soon as he’s close enough that he doesn’t have to shout. “Is everything alright?”

And Tommy startles. Withdraws his hands from Eret’s face as though he’s been burned. Turns to look at him, and Wilbur freezes in place, because just for a second—

There is fear on Tommy’s face.

He doesn’t understand what could have caused it. But it is undoubtedly there, only for a moment before it is smoothed away into something more neutral, if strained. And he hates it, hates it viscerally. He never wants Tommy to look at him with that expression on his face. It makes him feel sick to his stomach.

“Ayup,” Tommy says, and his voice sounds—rough. Like he hasn’t slept at all. “Morning Wil, Tubso.”

It’s casual. Far too casual for what Wilbur has just learned, for the panic he’s felt for the past half hour or so, unable to find this kid, this kid who is basically his brother, for all he pretends to protest against the moniker. Tommy is his family. Tommy is his family, and he risked everything last night, gave up everything for the sake of Wilbur’s everything, his grand ideals, his great vision, and now he’s standing there like nothing at all has changed.

“Ayup, Tommy,” Tubbo says. “You feeling any better this morning?”

At Tommy’s side, Eret shifts uneasily. Their expression is still one of concern, and Wilbur wonders exactly how long Tommy had been standing there like that, or what their interaction even was to get them to that point in the first place. It’s confusing. He’s confused.

“I’m great,” Tommy says, and—no, no, they’re not going to do this.

“Tommy,” he breaks in, and Tommy stiffens. “Tommy, last night, why did you—you just—why wouldn’t you tell me?”

It’s not quite what he should be asking, but it’s what comes out. And his voice is annoyingly desperate, and he hates showing off so many emotions like this, especially in a public space, but he can’t stop himself.

“What about last night?” Tubbo asks.

“Last night?” Eret echoes, and looks to Tommy, who blinks, his gaze darting between the three of them but landing on Wilbur most of all, and it’s like he’s nervous, almost, anxious about how he’s going to react, and—does he think he’s going to be angry about this? Perhaps he is, but only in the sense that he’s angry that Tommy took such a stupid risk. Below that anger, that anger born of fear, his pride burns bright. Surely, Tommy must know that?

“I—look, I knew you’d say no, alright?” he says. “But I knew that I could do it, so I did it. Simple as that.”

Simple as that, he says. As if he didn’t give up his greatest possessions. As if he didn’t win them the war, win them their freedom, win for them the reality of the values that this country was founded upon.

“What’s going on?” Eret asks.

“Yeah, does this have something to do with what you were saying to me the other night?” Tubbo says, and then looks at him. “Wilbur, what are you talking about? What happened last night?”

Tommy sighs, and says nothing. Wilbur swallows, and maintains eye contact with him as he speaks, searching for some kind of reaction.

“Dream came to me this morning,” he says, and does not miss Tommy’s flinch at the name, “not even an hour ago. He said—he said that we were free. That the war was over, that L’Manberg was its own nation, that he wanted to set up a meeting for diplomatic ties and whatnot. He called me the president. And, um, he said that you won it for us, Tommy.” He pauses, just for a moment, trying to get his emotions under control. He mostly fails. “He said that you came to him, last night, and you traded your discs to him for L’Manberg’s freedom.”

“You did what?”

Tubbo’s voice is dismayed and disbelieving all at once. And Tommy flinches, draws into himself a little, and that’s not the reaction Wilbur would have expected, but literally none of this is what he would have expected.

“Yeah,” he says, sounding quiet, a bit defeated. “Yeah, I—I did. I knew he’d take the deal. And I just wanted—I wanted the war to be over, yeah? Before anybody got hurt. And I knew this would work, so I just went and did it.”

“You couldn’t have, though,” he finds himself saying, before he even know what he’s going to say next. “Maybe you could’ve guessed that he’d go for it, but—Tommy, what if they’d killed you? Taken what they wanted and killed you right then and there? I just—” He breaks off running a hand through his hair, remembering too late that he’s got his beanie on. His fingers dislodge it, and he readjusts it with more fervor than is necessary. “I just can’t believe you did that without telling someone. Without telling—” Me, he wants to say, but holds himself back. No matter his feelings regarding Tommy, the deep respect and even deeper love that has grown in him over the course of their friendship, he doesn’t have a monopoly on Tommy’s attention. Perhaps he would have preferred for Tommy to tell him, but he’d have settled for Tommy telling anyone.

“What, are you worried?” Tommy says, and Wilbur only spares a second to wonder why he sounds so disbelieving, because—

“Yes,” he bursts out.  “Gods, Tommy! Dream came to me with this and my first thought was that you’d died! Or that you hadn’t made it back, that you were out there somewhere, alone and needing help, and I didn’t—Tommy. Tommy, please tell me you thought of this. Please tell me, tell me that you were prepared, at least. Tell me that you—” He cuts himself off again, shaking his head hard, and under any other circumstance, he would be kicking himself for the display, for the outburst of emotion, for the lack of eloquence, but he thinks he can be excused for the moment.

Tommy’s mouth works for a second.

“Oh,” he finally says, weakly. “Um, right. Sorry, Wilbur. No, I had it handled, trust me. Sorry, I didn’t, um. Didn’t mean to scare you like that. Sort of just—did it, y’know?”

“It’s okay,” he says, even though it kind of isn’t, because Tommy’s continued to shrink into himself, and he doesn’t want that. “It’s okay, Tommy, I’m just glad you’re okay. And, gods above, what you did—” He steps forward, then, unable to help himself, and takes Tommy by the shoulders. Tommy stares at him with wide eyes. “I never would have asked that of you. I couldn’t believe it when Dream told me. And Tommy, I—I’m so, so sorry. But I am so damn proud of you. You hear me? So damn proud. I know what that must have taken, for you to do that. And I’m so fucking proud of you.” He smiles, then, wide and a bit watery. He’s not going to cry, he’s not, but emotion is rising up in his throat, thick and overpowering. “You did it, Tommy. You won us L’Manberg.”

Tommy returns the smile, if a bit tentatively. “Yeah,” he says, “I guess I did, didn’t I?” And then, the smile widens, and he puffs out his chest, putting his hands on his hips. “I hear that makes me the leader now. You’re speaking to Mister High President King Lord Innit, so show me the respect you owe me, eh?”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” he replies, but he’s laughing. “No, no, enough out of you, go, take Tubbo and go get yourself whatever you want out of our rations, you’ve fucking earned it, Toms.”

Tommy offers him one last grin, and then he ducks out of his grip, grabbing Tubbo’s hand and dragging him in the direction of their storage. He can hear Tubbo’s voice already, high and offended at the fact that Tommy went and did this without telling him, and perhaps all is right with the world after all. Some things do not change, even when everything else does.

He went to sleep last night a rebel, a general. He woke up a president. How about that?

“Do you think he’s alright?” Eret asks, and he starts, almost having forgotten they were there.

“Probably not,” he admits. “Not entirely. Those discs meant a lot to him. But we’ve got time to figure it out.” He turns to them, then, makes eye contact with himself in the reflection of their sunglasses. “What was he doing with you, before we walked up?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” they reply. “He came up to me, sort of yelling a bit? Punched me in the shoulder a few times. Couldn’t figure out what that was about. Then he thanked me for something, and then he hugged me, which was a bit odd, and then he did the, uh, thing, with the holding my face? And then you and Tubbo arrived. I honestly don’t know what any of that was about at all.”

He hums, and looks out after the boys, at their retreating backs. As he watches, Tommy slings an arm around Tubbo’s shoulders, his other hand gesticulating wildly.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he says softly. “It’s Tommy. He makes it his job to be unpredictable.”

“You’re right about that,” Eret says. “I suppose congratulations are in order, President Soot?”

President Soot. It’s got a nice ring to it. He is the leader of a free country now, and it is thanks to the kid he sees as a younger brother, whether he’ll admit as much out loud or not. He is the leader of a free country, and that means there is much work to be done.

But he gives himself a moment longer, and smiles at the way the midday sun shines in Tommy’s hair.

It’s all for them, after all. Land is just land; as long as he can give his loved ones the freedom they deserve, that’s enough for him.

[afoolnottoloveu]

moonlight ♡

Summary: Spencer wants to go to sleep, but Reader doesn’t wanna break tradition (WC: 1.6k) {Masterlist <3}

Pairing: Spencer Reid x (intended she/her but technically gender neutral)!Reader (could be read as platonic or romantic!!)

TW: none!

A/N: i was supposed to post this on the 29th.. we dont talk about it its okay its fine everythings all good, I ALMOST FORGOT thank you to gracie for beta reading this!! she’s the first one on the taglist at the end if you wanna check out her amazing work as well mwah, n e ways enjoy :0

Playlist Pairing: it’s not a singular song this time, listen to the inspo playlist here! 🌘

_

You rushed up the stairs, praying to some deity that you would catch him before he sent himself to bed or was too immersed in some book to answer the door. JJ had called you 7 hours ago, so it wasn’t surprising that you somehow didn’t notice the time passing, plus the fact you had to get gas for your little trip.

Rapping at the door insistently, you were delightfully startled when Spencer opened the door only a few moments later. He was still in his work slacks and button up but tie-less. A quick glance behind him and you could see he had been making himself tea, and the satchel by his feet couldn’t have been dropped more than 10 minutes ago.

“Peanut?”

You were too elated that you had caught him to respond, instead opting to attach yourself to his torso. “You’re back! Oh my gosh, I was so worried you wouldn’t make it back in time, but luckily JJ called me that you were getting back today, but that was over like 7 hours ago, and then I got worried I wouldn’t make it here before you went to bed--” you rambled, but Spencer quickly brought you back down to Earth by removing you from his torso.

“Y/N! What’re you doing here?”

“We’re going on a drive, duh!” you said, before grabbing his wrist and making it halfway out the door before being pulled back.

“Now? I just got home from two back-to-back cases, and it’s almost midnight.”

“Spence, we can’t break tradition now! Unless Mr. Eidetic Memory forgot what tomorrow is--” you interrupt yourself with a very exaggerated gasp, earning an eye roll from Spencer.

“Of course I know what tomorrow is but--” Knowing he would only go on and on to list reasons why he shouldn’t come with you, you used your last resort, the “puppy dog eyes.” All Spencer did was stare at you, both of you knowing fully well that he was capable of resisting, but he didn’t like to. After a whole minute of unnecessary intense staring at each other, Spencer let out a groan and turned around to walk away, which you thought meant that he was going to bed. Instead, you were pleasantly surprised when you heard him half-yell from across his apartment, “I’m just getting my keys!” You squealed excitedly, knowing what was ahead of you both that night.

~

Your car was small, a basic silver Toyota corolla you named Carrie. She smelled of gas and was decked out with teddy bear head pillows and keychains that you asked Spencer to buy, hanging from the rearview mirror, (but only from the cool states). You even kept a tan knitted blanket in Carrie, which Spencer was now wrapped in.

You couldn’t help but notice Spencer’s infatuation with the moon tonight, as he took a long sip from one of his two cups of hot cocoa you guys had picked up on the way.

“Is it a full moon?”

“No,” he said--not in a rude way, just quietly and quickly, like he didn’t want to take his focus away from the moon or it might disappear.

So, you let him be. He was most likely tired, and despite tomorrow, which most people would be restless for, he probably just wanted rest. You almost felt guilty, but your tradition was important to you, and you could only hope that it was important to him as well. 

“Did you know the full moon is one of the most powerful symbols in astrology? It can represent one’s emotional instincts, habits and private aspects of one’s personality. It’s said that while the sun sign of someone represents their head, their moon sign represents their heart. Though, most astrologists say the moon is heavily compulsion-based. Similarly, someone’s sun sign depicts their actions, but their moon sign depicts their reactions,” he told you, still gazing, almost longingly at the moon.

“I didn’t take you for an astrology type of guy, Doctor.”

“I have knowledge in many areas, Y/N, I thought you knew this by now.” You snickered at the understatement. “If the moon smiled, she would resemble you. You leave the same impression of something beautiful, but annihilating,” he quoted.

“Plath--are you flirting with me, Doc?”

“Never, peanut.”

You rolled both your eyes and the windows of your car. Hopefully the blanket and cocoa was enough to warm him. All you wanted was to not blow out his eardrums as you turned up the music. Night Changes by One Direction was playing, and you reminisced on the fact that he originally had never heard of the band, causing your binge session, which consisted of watching their documentary and listening to all 5 of their albums straight. He told you he thought they were okay and he saw the appeal. What he didn’t tell you was that his favorite album was Midnight Memories, but if the way he was humming along to the song now was any evidence, you could’ve been a profiler.

You two listened to your playlist, made specially for the tradition, (Spencer insisted you always pick the music on these trips, since you weren’t very interested in classical piano) and besides the melodies, a comfortable silence encompassed the car for the most of the ride. As the road started to incline and your destination started getting near, you broke it.

“Can you believe-” you started, earning Spencer’s gaze from the sudden conversation, “Can you believe the audacity the calendar has, to change dates in the middle of the night, just like that, while we’re sleeping?” Spencer couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled out from him. “Like tomorrow… You’re gonna wake up and, and you’re gonna be one year older.” When you said this, you couldn’t help but steal a look at him. He wasn’t making eye contact, just fidgeting with his fingers, but the small smile was there.

“Just like that,” you finished, as you pulled onto the edge of a hill. 

When you showed up at his apartment the night you got your driver’s license, you found this spot. This was your guys’ cliff. The one you guys found on accident, when your car ran out of gas on your first night of the tradition. The same one you guys have had a handful of picnics at and late night rambles about both of your favorite things. Covered in the blanket of light that the moon so graciously provided, it was perfect, and it was both of yours.

Parked atop the hill, you turned off the car and turned to Spencer, who went back to admiring the stars. You were just about to tell him that you would be right back, but you decided he was a little busy, and so you quickly shuffled to grab the box he wasn’t aware was hiding in the trunk.

He finally noticed your disappearance when you came back with a lavender gift box in your lap and an excited smile on your face. “Oh Y/N, you know you didn’t--”

“Save it, Spence. Just open your gift,” you demanded, shoving it into his arms and the smile on your face only lingering. He rarely received real gifts, only for Christmas. You were essentially his only non work friend, and he told everyone at work that he never wanted nor needed anything.

He repeatedly blinked, yet carefully removed the lid. He first saw the small brown envelope which contained a gift card for the local coffee shop near his apartment. Underneath that and the matching lavender tissue paper, he found a tie of no other color than purple and two pairs of socks, one of colorful stripes and the other of baby tardises. (You knew nothing about Doctor Who, but he appreciated the references.) The whole time smiles adorned both your faces. The last item was a copy of The Alchemist. It was one of the main books you two had bonded over, and only a few weeks ago, someone had spilled coffee on their copy. Spencer was against buying another one, saying he could literally recite it in his head word for word if he ever wanted to again, but you stubbornly insisted that it didn’t have the same sentiment, (and of course you were right).

He took the book out the box and held it by the spine as he flitted through the pages, taking note of the annotations, your annotations. When done, he closed it and only opened the cover, finding your heartfelt message. 

Dear old dear old Spence,

I know you’re probably gonna read this in .02 seconds, and probably right in front of me at that. Unless we broke tradition. But I trust that I convinced you. (It was the eyes, wasn’t it?) Regardless, I wanted to wish my very, very best friend a happy birthday. You alone are so strong for going through all that you’ve gone through, stuff that no one should have to even imagine. You are one of the strongest people I know. You need to know that I’m proud of you, Spencer. I’m beyond grateful for you, for having such a caring, resilient, and just incredible friend as you. I hope I don’t need to remind you that I will be here for you, through anything and everything. See you in 500 years :)

Love, with all my heart, Peanut

In only a handful of seconds, he shut the cover once again, and the happiness (and slight gleam) in his eyes became painstakingly evident. “This is your copy?” He asked, mostly rhetorically, because he knew it was. At this point, he was lightly sniffling between words. “Thank- thank you, peanut,” 

“It’s no problem Doc,” you smiled and lightly punched him on the shoulder, “happy birthday, Spencer. I’m glad we didn’t break tradition.” And by the look on his face, well- you were no profiler, but you could safely assume that he was just as glad.

-

Taglist: @bxbyspxncer @goldenxreid @prettyboy-reid @rottenearly @rainsong01

[mrs-nate-humphrey]

I am curious: what are your favorite scenes from your main ships (date, dair, derena...)?

scenes involving milo don't count, sorry!

for me, it's really not just scenes, but body language & just in general, how they are with each other, you know? dan and serena grin at each other and hug SO much, you can tell that being around each other in s1 made them both so happy, and even after that glow fades the way they look for comfort in each other... top level stuff. the way blair looks at dan... we never see her as radiant at any other point. she was not looking at anyone else like this. and gosh, dan and nate. they're both so comfortable around each other that there's absolutely nothing weird about like. discussing that one ex girlfriend whom they both share AND both were in love with. there is literally no other duo who trusts/enjoys each other's company so much that they're comfortable in a love triangle. (probably because they're more in love with each other than with the girl, but that is not the point. or is it?)

anyway, more specific answers. under the cut. this is one of the longest answers i've ever written on this blog possibly but you KNEW that would happen when you sent this ask, didn't you? (affectionate)

derena: i tagged one of my ds reblogs as 'the grumpy one is soft for the sunshine one' and like. look at them! this hug from 1x10 kills me in the best way. they are both the literal embodiment of :D when they see each other! i love 1x10 as a whole moment, their entire thing at cotillion is so sweet and they're both so happy. the fact that he is talking about his chemistry teacher during this kiss in 1x07. that bit at the end of 1x05 when they talk about their siblings (being there for their sibling because of fallible parents being a derena parallel makes me simultaneously really sad and really soft, tbh). 1x05 gives me SO MUCH SECONDHAND EMBARRASSMENT but the way they walk off together arms around each other does something to me - these are two people who are still getting to know each other but who really like what they see, and who trust each other and. are just having a good time together! back when derena was my OTP, the 1x11 "your story's about me?" was absolutely a fave, too, and i still adore it, albeit in a different, more nostalgic way. i like a dan who writes cute stories about serena. no empty shell sabrina van skoneker bullshit. she is so much like you, daniel! you'd be shattered if she did this to you. don't do this to her. tbh, most derena moments from s1 are just A+ romance. the bit in 2x02 in the jitney is so funny, they're SO bad at being exes. the bit in... 3x03 i think?? i don't remember... on the contrary. when they're talking about dan's fling w/ georgina and serena's relationship with carter, the ease with which they talk and how happy/supportive they are of each other's new relationships... yeah. love to see it.

i also really like any instance of them having honest/open conversations. 1x13, talking about how serena is concerned about blair. 1x08, serena talking to dan about feeling jealous of vanessa. this bit from the touch of eva or whatever that episode is. 4x04 i think. this is the conversation everyone is trying to get dan to have and he's avoiding EVERYONE else. derena interactions in 3x21 (can't find a gif right now) - the fact that dan is with serena when her dad abandons them, the fact that he goes all the way there with her. 2x07, "i'm really glad you're nate's friend. he really needs someone like you right now" (though i'm cheating, that's technically a d/n moment too klhdflkgf). there's a bit in s4 where he's advising her against having an affair w/ colin, i don't remember the ep number, but the way he takes her side so easily and naturally and puts due blame/responsibility solely on her professor... yeah. 4x10 i think this ep is?? idk. but like my tags say, im sentimental about this moment because while what dan was doing was irresponsible, sneaking her out of the ostroff, he was the only person in this episode who was actually talking to her and listening to her and taking her seriously. nobody else was doing that!!

i probably have more moments i'm not remembering, but we're only 1/3 into this answer and LOOK AT THE WORDS, good lord, i'm sorry.

dair: my favourite dair episode is hands down despicable b (5x21) which i have heard is an uncommon answer. i just love the conflict resolution of it all, okay!!! 1x04 & 2x08 are like. standard answers any dair shipper will give, and i'm no different. i love dan being able to give blair advice and blair actually taking his advice even though they're not friends yet!!! be right back, yelling at the intimacy of it all!! 5x16, with their getting together (this little kiss and dan being so startled by it), blair admitting a flaw she genuinely does have and dan saying it's not awful because it's her, which is just. romance at its finest. those vows, good lord. 5x18.... they're having fun! blair showing up at the loft in lingerie for dan... the delight on her face.... (i know this moment blows up in their face but when she's there she looks so happy and proud of herself and this was like THE moment when i was like. oh. dair is really the heart of this garbage show huh).

i think for me, the thing that really sells dan & blair together is the serena of it all. both of them love serena more fiercely than anyone else, and that is what brings them together. (fwiw i definitely think nate loved serena this much and this deeply, too; the writers just wanted to pop the serenate balloon, which even i think was extremely unnecessary and ooc.) but (& i have so much meta about this) their relationship grows beyond serena. their entire s4 arc is SO good. i love how comfortable around each other they are, in such an adult way, in the sense of like. they both bring so much stability to each other? morgan tagged this edit "the marrieds" and like. yeah. b offers to help him shave. they're having breakfast & reading the paper together.

all the love declarations we got that weren't a simple 'i love you.' be your charming wonderful self (how could she not love you/ tell me what would make you happy, dan) i told chuck he doesn't have my heart anymore (you spent your life earning the keys to set you free when you were free all along!!!!) dan's pep talk to blair in 5x21 (already linked a gifset earlier, here's another one if you want i guess). there's definitely more... but honestly, the way the dair arc was executed was so good - while i do have my complaints, i also think keeping those aside, it was SO close to perfect. i love dan & blair's banter and gradually becoming closer and closer and closer. it felt very organic and real and GOSH. the way penn & leighton looked at each other while playing dan and blair...... it's just SO MUCH.

date: this is the hardest, because it's. *screams*. maybe you saw me losing my mind over those 2 seconds of nate handing dan a waffle? i love almost every scene with these two, even the hellish s6 breakup scene. my favourite episode for d/n (& also favourite gg episode in general) is 2x06 - i love the homoerotic subtext of it all. nate pretending to be dan because dan's name is the first name that came to his head. dan flirting w/ nate while tied to that thing, in his underwear. them becoming friends. and 2x07 as a follow-up to that! dan getting nate to live in the loft with the humphreys for a while. i am so soft.

4x09 is a terrible episode in general, especially for serena my beloved, but the d/n moments in that one? off the CHARTS. this weird overly macho flirting, in some ways THE most iconic d/n line. this entire finish each other's sentences nonsense. someone (i think it was ana but im not sure?) compared the energy of those scenes i just linked to the book blairenate love triangle resolution, blairena choosing each other over nate in the books, date choosing each other over serena in the show (if only! RIP.) after the saints & sinners ball, this cute little moment of 'youre the only one who understands me. please tell me they went home together. i mean. how could they not have.

3x07, them watching vampire porn together. a tag i used on ao3 (& also on here, once) is 'nate brings out the himbo in dan'. here is a prime example. 'is she levitating?' i don't fucking know, dan, what do you think?? (i was telling my partner that that's what i love abt dair vs date. around blair dan is an intellectual, a librarian, an art historian, a museum curator. around nate it's like dan is competing to be #1 himbo on the show. can my girlfriend actually fly? i don't know, dan. i can't believe you're seriously asking such a question.)

3x12 pep talk. (sorry about the shitty quality!) essentially nate telling dan that he (dan) is hot and that he shouldn't talk himself down so much.

dan making nate gay in his book. you know. his book from which blair found out he was in love with her. nads (who i will not tag in this billion word long gushy meta, because i value her sanity) once called inside "wish fulfilment' and. i mean. yeah

nate checking dan out at the derena wedding continues to be hilarious. hilarious in the same way as dan sexually fantasising about nate. canon really went 'let's give ivy some special easter eggs' and i appreciate them a lot!

i love the way they are around each other - so quietly attuned to each other. i showed my sister my date!husbands gifset, and she was like. yeah they're so married. and it's just stuff like how dan looks for nate over his shoulder, it's not even an active action, it's as easy and natural and intuitive as breathing, checking to see if nate is still there.

oh, that wasn't as hard as it could've been! okay. cool. im SURE there's more things i could scream about, because it's DN, the fact that they're non-canon makes me THAT much fiercer about them than dair/derena, to be honest. so many dots to connect!! anyway.

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

A sequel to "A Forgotten Memory"

Alex is once again tasked to continue his mission in pursuing the threat that had caused hundreds of missing persons turn up dazed the next day. But now he isn't alone, join him along with the elite Task Force 141 as they hunt down Nero, discover the secrets behind his plans and put an end to this memory erasing nightmare.

Chapter 1 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

"Resurgence"

"Alex"

CIA Warcom

Boracay Island, Philippines

Alex basked himself on the warm sandy beaches of the Philippines. He wasn't able to enjoy his vacation after the Nero mission, because he was sent immediately to Urzikstan and Verdansk immediately followed. And now that all of those were over, he now laid down on a beach chair and let the ocean breeze blow on his relaxed state.

Philippines was a nice country, the people were hospitable, the food was delicious and unique and the scenery was beyond amazing. Despite his metal leg, people still looked up at him the way they look at tourists and he was all of the hospitality and attention from his fellow Americans who are also on vacation to locals who were just amazed on how the leg works.

It's been a lot of months ever since Samantha forgot him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they'll meet again, that's why no matter many women try to show interest in him, he shrugs them off politely by pretending he has a girlfriend. A simple lie that he built for himself in hopes of a miracle of meeting her again.

He always brought her letter with him, some edges of it got burnt from the time he manually detonated a C4 explosive to destroy a gas factory, It was almost torn and faded, but he couldn't leave it somewhere safe. He wanted it to be with him wherever he goes. 

'Don't you dare forget about me'

His phone rang. He quickly fished it from a small pouch he bought that the locals made and immediately answered.

"This is Alex speaking." he chimed.

"I'm sorry to bother you at this time of day Alex, but I have a feeling you'd want to jump in on this." a British accent so familiar informed him over the other side of the line, It was none other than Captain John Price or Bravo Six, a comrade he once fought with back in Urzikstan.

"I'm all ears." he said, sitting up straight and letting his metal leg sink in the sand.

"Looks like your boy Nero is back on the grid. That Sneaky bastard kidnapped the Daughter of the Head of Defense, again." Price relayed.

Alex's heart thumped faster, his breathing became quick. He wished to meet her again but not like this. Not her being in harm's way all over again.

"Shit. Count me in. But.." he hesitated. He wanted to help but remembered he disobeyed CIA orders back in Urzikstan, making him unable to provide support.

"I've talked to Laswell. She's creating a special assignment for you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means welcome to the 141, Alex." Price said as he cut off the call, followed by a message regarding his departure to their base.

~

Alex can't help but worry about Samantha's condition. They've played with her memories multiple times and he thought that it would all be over after she decided to alter everything about them. Guess the enemy didn't know and they're still after her.

The soldier leaned on to the small circular glass pane as he looked at the clouds pass by. His hands were fidgeting each other while his non-metal foot bounced up and down at a fast rate. His seatmate, who happens to be a teenager, noticed his distracting leg movement but ignored it as rock music blasted from his ears. He was a completely different Alex right now and he believed that he'll be back to normal as soon as he sees Samantha safe and within his grasp.

When you have a heavy metal stick as a leg, customs is going to be the most annoying place in the world. Everyone looked at Alex as soon as he passes the metal detector and everyone else's eyes were on him. Of course with a few more safety checks and a whole lot of explaining, Alex was good to go. 

"So, you're the one they call Alex" the heavily British accented driver mused, breaking the silence of their ride to the 141 base. He was looking at him via the rearview mirror, chewing on what Alex hoped to be gum.

"Yep. That's me." he replied, turning to the view of the British streets which confused him a lot as it was the opposite of American or even Global streets.

"Heard they thought you were dead back there. In Georgia." he added. He was quite the chatterbox but CIA Agents are all about the information.

"Yeah. Tried to manually detonate the C4. After that… I just ran for my life." Alex answered, his head was realizing why he did it. What pushed him to think that he could make it out alive. Was it because it's for the greater good? The idea of freeing Farah's country from the harm of the gas? The idea of a chance to meet Samantha all over again? Or something he couldn't explain.

"Well, we're glad to have you back, Alex. But it's a shame it's no longer in the CIA." the driver waved as Alex opened the door and unloaded his stuff.

"As long as it's still about saving the world." he replied, making the driver smile. 

"That's what we do, right?" he agreed as he entered in his car leaving Alex in front a quiet gray building, the Task Force 141 Base, his new home.

Alex pushed the heavy doors open revealing a large hall, multiple round sofas were embedded to the ground and a huge staircase that split left and right greeted him. Multiple heads turned as he opened the said door and slowly walked his way to the nearest person who happened to be panting from exhaustion by the sofa. His metal leg clanked on his every step as the soldiers begin to recognize him. They smiled as soon as Alex's eyes met theirs and some even waved, Alex met them from several missions from the past, some were from the Demon Dogs and his previous designations, Delta Force.

"Where's the briefing room in this huge building?" he asked the soldier in a black t shirt drenched in sweat as he spun his towel trying to keep up with his breathing. He didn't speak but he nodded in acknowledgement and pointed to the hallway on the left. Alex left him a thanks and he walked his way to the direction where he pointed.

Just a few steps after the beginning of the hallway, the people from the main hall cheered and laughed, this made Alex turn around and he saw a young blonde man with spiky hair dash across him, he looked like he's on his way to your destination as well.

"Excuse me! Sir!" he yelled and Alex immediately halted. The young man panted in front of him and took a few seconds to breathe before he countinued his words.

"I'm Gary Sanderson, and I was supposed to guide you to the briefing room. You must be Alex." he reached out a hand and Alex shook it, quietly making your way to the room.

The huge door slid open and they found themselves in a dimly lit room, a huge screen loomed just by the wall and chairs were placed around a long circular table. Alex could spot a few familiar faces, faces he once saw and fought alongside with in Verdansk. There was the balaclava boy, Ghost, the Mohawk Man, Soap, their Captain, John Price and a few big heads from the United States. There were also new faces like Gary, who was now discussing something with another new soldier, a female soldier who sat by Price and a few new more who were already sitting on the chairs. There's also someone missing, Kyle Garrick, he pondered where he was.

The former CIA quickly saw Gary rush to Price's seat and whispered something causing him to lean on his chair, stand up and walk to his side. 

"Glad to see you back in the fight, Alex." he muttered, patting Alex's shoulder.

"I won't skip out on this mission, this one's close to home." he replied, patting his back in return.

"Yeah, heard this was your last mission before the Russian Gas." 

"Yeah. It's a loose end on my side." Alex nodded, crossing his arms.

"Good thing Shepherd had some sense in him. Not unlike your CIA heads, huh?" 

Alex nodded. He remembered he did an illegal thing against the CIA, and that was siding with Farah's forces, who were reclassified as global terror groups at that time. He silently thanked he could still step back in the fight along with the good guys even after that event.

"Yeah. I might have to thank him soon enough." Alex murmured and Price guided him to the briefing which was about to start in a few minutes.

~

"Before we start our mission briefing, I'd like to welcome each and everyone of you to the 141. A group of the most elite warriors from around the world tasked to eliminate terrorist threats lurking in the shadows. One of which, goes by the name Nero…" General Shepherd's voice was deep and serious, while the screen showed a photo of the guy they're after. His face looked punchable, as manifested by the way Alex clenched his fists while he stared at his soulless eyes.

"… whose goal is still unknown. He poses a threat as he has been out in American soil, which we believe is the one behind the multiple missing and reappearing person cases across the country." he continued, eyeing Alex. He knew a little bit about the case, maybe because he read his report.

"Since he poses no evidence of terrorist activity as of now, we are assigned to rescue and locate the daughter of Richard Coleman, America's Head of National Defense. We don't know why she was kidnapped but we believed it is or ransom or threatening purposes." The general explained, pacing back and forth, his shadow covered the screen.

Alex wanted to say something. Something about the details surrounding the case. It was written on his report. But then again, maybe the general already knew about the alteration, and since Samantha doesn't remember any IP Address, it was no longer worth noting.

Samantha's face was projected on the screen. Alex's heart began to beat faster, she looked different now, a little chubbier, longer hair and her smile felt happier. It was heartbreaking that she got caught in the crossfire again. After all those efforts of making her life normal.

'If our paths would cross again, I hope you'll remember me the way I remembered you before I take this operation, A good memory that's supposed to last forever. '

'Don't you dare forget about me.'

Her words echoed in his mind, using the same voice she had when they were together. 

"I will save you again if I had to.." he promised to her mentally, as he tightened the clench he was already doing.

"Our intel reports that twelve hours ago, local informants spotted an unknown flying vehicle just by the Georgian Border, local authorities confirmed that this wasn't one of their aircraft and we believe it could be the getaway vehicle of Samantha Coleman and her captors… We are still looking on to this so for the meantime I want each and one of you to be fully alert and ready for deployment."

Everyone else fell silent. It meant they agreed at what the high ranking official said. A few more words were exchanged such as new additions to the team, aside from Alex. He didn't seem to focus much on the second part of the brief as his mind worried a lot about Samantha. If his instincts were right, she's probably sedated once again, taking a trip down her own memory lane.

Chapter 2 : F.N.G.

[jeontaehui]

what would you say is/are taehee’s love language(s) and how has it been shown through her interactions w the members?

taehee’s top two love languages would be acts of services and words of affirmation !!! she’s willing to go out of her way to help someone, and so she always always puts others before herself.

taehee likes knowing that the people around her are happy and comfortable, like that one time she woke up earlier than the others just to make sandwiches for superm when they slept only three hours after filming the ‘tiger inside’ mv, or those times when she and hyuck were caught arguing over the bill in restaurants or who gets to pay for convenience store items by fans. taehee’s manager just watches behind them with an amused gaze, sometimes she’d go and pay for the herself and the two would complain once they realize. she’s also there to cheer and comfort the members with her words! jungwoo says that taehee somehow always knew the right thing to say, something that would also give motivation and assurance to the members whenever they feel nervous or anxious. she’d help ease sungchan’s nerves before his debut stage, even offering to help him practice his lines for the interview. the members appreciate the little post-it notes taehee would leave on their laptops or bags, with little messages saying stuff like ‘don’t forget to drink water!’, ‘get home safely!’ or ‘you did great today <3’ taeyong, mark, and a few others have admitted keeping those notes somewhere tucked safely in their rooms, a dimpled smile growing on the girl’s face at their confession.

now taehee would be a little bit more subtle about quality time and giving gifts. the members would mention it during a radio show or for tmi questions, and you’d see her deny them or get shy. usually, it’s because the dreamies always expose her for these kinds of stuff. “noona is actually very observant, 진짜,” jisung says, “renjun hyung and i really wanted to see this movie, but we kept pushing it back and forgetting about it because of our schedules.” while renjun agrees with him, understanding hums come from the other people in the room, except for taehee who had a small smile on her face. he continues, “then when we were on the way home, i think it was the day before our day-off, noona sent tickets to that movie to renjun hyung.” “she bought the tickets?” the host asks. this time renjun answers, “yeah, when she gave them to me i was surprised because we don’t remember talking about it with her.” they all look towards the said girl, prompting her to explain, “i just watched the trailer on youtube and thought that the kids would want to watch it. i asked if they had already so the tickets wouldn’t go to waste when i buy them, and they said they hadn’t so..... tickets!” her sheepish chuckle by the end causes the boys to coo at her, hyuck and chenle specifically. 

“ah noona is so cute~” 

“taehee noona, thinks about others so much but she doesn’t want to admit it,” hyuck adds, “we came home one day, this was with 127, and the older members were a bit tired, but i wanted to watch a movie. i asked around and no one wanted to watch, but then noona was like ‘okay, i’ll watch with you.’” the older girl eyes him suspiciously, but it was clear that she was flustered with how they were telling nice stories about her. “why are you all saying nice things about me? do you want something too?” as mark chuckles with her, hyuck continues. “noona doesn’t watch movies or dramas that much, but she’ll watch one with you if you want company.”

moving on, taehee is a bit hesitant on giving physical touch / skinship (because of *certain fans*) but she has this habit of linking arms with the member beside her whenever they walk in the airports or go out during their rest days. the only time she’ll ever go beyond that point is when she’s babying jisung !!! she’ll boop his nose, hold his face in her hands, hug him from the back, etc. she’ll jokingly lean in for kisses on the cheek and the maknae would always shy away from her. other than that, she receives skinship pretty well from the other members as long as they’re the ones to initiate it. the boys, especially the hyung line, would ruffle or pat her hair as a sign of endearment. some members like mark and jeno would wrap an arm around her shoulders or waist when talking in front of the camera or taking pictures. it’s also very obvious how hyuck likes holding her hand or playing with it (even if he sometimes gets pushed away by her), the same way taehee likes floofing or patting his head in between shoots. in jungwoo’s relay cam though, taehee’s more affectionate side shows when she’s sleepy. everyone knows she’s not one to initiate skinship, that’s why it was quite surprising to see her cuddle half-asleep with jungwoo and mark in the video. 

other examples of taehee’s love language with the members is that when she’d tease them or fluster them with her infamous pick-up lines !! she’d always show them off to mark knowing how much he gets flustered over it, but since he’s kind of used to it already (it’s been about eight years, give or take), he’d either a.) carry on with the conversation like nothing happened; b.) roll his eyes at her, though with a knowing smiling on his face; or c.) fire back with another one, but he’s most likely to go with a. it’s also a known fact that taehee doesn’t actually mind the younger boys speaking informally with her, she only makes them do it when they’re in front of the camera. jisung would sometimes just call her ‘jiji’ in vlives and it honestly makes the girl’s heart melt! 

[rmtndew]

Begin Again ~ Chapter 7

Summary: Walter Marshall is a dedicated homicide detective doing his best to balance his work life with being a single father to a teenage girl. Fiona Sparks is a woman doing her best to take care of everyone and everything around her, except for herself. Neither has had the best luck with relationships, but once they meet, they’re willing to give it another shot, this time with each other. (It’s basically just romantic fluff) 

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This is a sequel to ‘All I’ve Ever Known’. I started writing this because I needed an escape for some personal stuff going on and my coping mechanism included giving Marshall all the love that man needed, and imagining him being the softest boyfriend to me, then passing those details on to Fiona (my OFC).

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

This is the final chapter for ‘Being Again’. I want to thank everyone who commented and shared my story, and sent me messages. You have no idea how much it means to me! I appreciate y’all so much! Thank you! 🥰

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Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 (Final)

When I woke up the next morning, it was like the night before had only been a dream. Like it was too good to be true. But when I checked my phone, I had a text from Marshall that reminded me it was absolutely real. 

Marshall: I hated leaving you. I hope you know that. Those few hours of sleep that  I had with you were some of the best  I’ve had in ages. You say I make you feel safe, but you make me feel calm in a way I’ve never felt. I hope you have a good morning. I’ll call you later.

After I read his text, I felt myself starting to cry. It wasn’t a sad cry. It was a happy, cathartic cry. Like I couldn’t contain everything I felt for him, and it had to release somehow. I’d never shared a bed with a man simply to sleep before. My past boyfriends had always expected something in exchange. Having Walter just be there was new to me. What I felt for him went beyond attraction. I didn’t know if I could ever put it into words, I just knew that it nearly hurt to feel it all. But I didn’t want it any other way.

The rest of my morning went much better than the previous days. I checked in with Mom but did my best not to worry about her. I went to the store, bought groceries for the week, and even splurged on some new candles. Then that afternoon, I started prepping for dinner. I had an idea in mind and hoped it would work out. 

At a little after seven that evening, with only ten minutes left on the oven timer, I called Marshall. “I have two questions,” I said once we exchanged ‘hellos’. “Although I think I already know the answers to both.” 

“And what would those two questions be? Or would you prefer to give me the answers first?”

“Well, I think the answer will be a yes, and then a no.”

“I’m very curious now.”

“Okay, so question one: Are you still at your office? And question two: Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“Am I that predictable?”

“Only in this one specific instance,” I said. “But it brings up a third question that I don’t know the answer to.”

“Which is?”

“Would you let me bring you dinner? I overcooked and I won’t be able to eat it all, and it’s not the best as leftovers.” 

He was quiet for a moment. “Could I come to you instead? I think an hour’s break might do me good.”

“Of course you can come here. I’ll keep it warm and we can eat together.”

“Alright. See you soon.”

After I hung up, I pulled out the new fall scented candles I’d bought that day and put them on the dining table, flocking the vase of flowers he’d bought me the night before. I wanted the house to be warm and inviting, but I didn’t want him to know that I’d planned any of it. I was pretty sure that the only way I could get away with spoiling him a little was if he thought it was an accident. He may have been the one to ask to come over, but I knew that if I’d mentioned coming to him, he wouldn’t want me to go out of my way, and would come to me instead.

He was there in less than half an hour, which made me think a little speeding was involved. I nearly teased him about putting on his siren to get there, but I couldn’t get the words out fast enough. As soon as I closed the door behind him, he had me pressed against it, his mouth on mine in an almost bruising fashion. It was different than the enthusiastic urgency so much of our makeout sessions at his place had involved. Something else was driving him. Whatever it was made him pull away almost as quickly as he’d started. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. He tried to take a step back, but I wouldn’t let him. I grabbed his sides, doing my best to hold him in place. He wouldn’t look at me. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

Once I was convinced he wouldn’t run away, I moved a hand up to his face. I didn’t try to make him look at me. “What are you sorry for?”

“I didn’t mean to be that rough. I shouldn't've -”

“Shh. No,” I cut him off. “I’m not fragile, honey. I can handle a rough kiss.” He finally lifted his eyes to mine, but the look on his face was conflicted. It hurt me. I put my other hand on his face, cradling it gently. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I just desperately needed to feel you.” He dropped his forehead to mine. “This case...the more we find out…” He let out a breath and put his hands on my waist, pulling me closer to him. “It doesn’t matter.”

He held me tighter against him. His hands felt so needy. I was afraid to say the wrong thing and make him self conscious. I stayed exactly as I was, holding his face, and let him press me further against him. Whatever had happened in the case since we’d spoken on the phone had gotten to him. He was usually so big and tough and strong, but he stood in front of me, soft and vulnerable. After a few moments, I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed me back, then let me take the lead, keeping it slow and tender. I pushed my back against the door and let him melt into me. When it felt like all the tension was gone from his body, I took one of my hands from his face and moved it down to one of his hands on my waist, holding it. 

“Let’s go eat, okay?” I said.

He nodded, holding my hand, and followed me as I walked to the kitchen. When we reached it, he stopped at the entrance and looked around. The lights were dimmed and the candles were lit. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

“I didn’t,” I lied. “I used to do this for myself when I lived alone. Sometimes I’d put on music, or, if it was raining, I’d open a window and listen to it. I thought tonight would be a good night to try it again.” I rubbed my thumb over his hand. “And now I get to share it with you.”

“Your candles are better than mine,” he said, finally giving me a small glimpse of a smile. 

“I can help you shop for new ones. How’s that sound?”

He nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Good.” I kissed his shoulder. “Take a seat. I’ll make you a plate.”

“You don’t have to. I can do it.”

“I know you can, but I want to,” I said. “Will you let me?”

He chewed the corner of his mouth for a second. “Yeah,” he quietly relented.

“Thank you.”

He sat at the table and I pulled the food from the oven, where I’d been keeping it warm. Spinach and cheese stuffed chicken with roasted vegetables. I made us both plates, then got us drinks before sitting down. I sat right beside Marshall, rubbing his back with my left hand while we ate. A few bites in, he seemed to brighten a bit. 

“This is fantastic,” he said. “But I don’t believe for a minute that it doesn’t taste good as leftovers.”

I smiled. “That might have been a tiny lie so you would let me feed you,” I said. “Do you forgive me?”

He put his hand on my knee. “I do.”

“Good.”

He let out a breath and sat back in his chair. “You don’t know how much I needed this. I’ve been staring at the same evidence for hours, trying to figure out what I’m missing, and I can’t seem to find it.” He licked his lips. “Our victim, he wasn’t a good person. He had an extensive history of domestic violence. I keep looking at the pictures from the crime scene and comparing them to the ones in the police reports of his ex-girlfriends, the ones they filed after he’d beaten them, and I can’t imagine one of them or someone in their families shooting him twice and walking away. After what he did to those women, anyone who shot him because of it would have had more passion behind it. This was too cold and calculated for that. So if he wasn’t shot for what he’d done to them, then what was the motive?” He ran a hand over his face. “And that’s what I’ve been asking myself the last three hours, and what I would have been asking myself through the night if you hadn’t intervened.” 

“Maybe stepping away from it all for an hour will help you refocus.”

He nodded, gently squeezing my knee. “If nothing else, I’ll be thoroughly distracted,” he said, finally giving me a proper smile. 

I smiled back. “I’m happy to distract you for as long as you’d like.” I gave him a kiss. “Now eat your vegetables and you can have dessert.” He raised his eyebrows at me and smirked. I blushed, burying my face in his shoulder. “Tiramisu. I bought a tiramisu. That’s the dessert.” 

“Good. Because although another type of dessert would divert my attention far more, I’d prefer for it to last longer than an hour.” 

I was still blushing but managed to raise my head to look at him. “Really?” I asked. He nodded. “I’ve, um, I’ve never had dessert last that long.” 

He looked nearly appalled. “Never?” 

I shook my head. “Maybe twenty minutes. And that’s being generous.” 

“You must be the only one being generous is that’s the longest it lasted.” 

“You’re not wrong.”

“When it’s time for us...would you let me change that for you?”

My cheeks burned. I averted my eyes. “You don’t have to.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I know, but-”

He took his hand from my knee and moved it to my chin, lifting my face to look at him. “Fi, none of it should be about ‘having’ to. It should all be want. I’m asking because I want to. You should only answer with what you want. Neither of us should feel obligated,” he said. 

I bit my lip for a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” I said. “I want to try letting you change it. But I get in my head a lot, so I can’t promise I’ll be good at it.” 

“You don’t have to be. That’s not the point.” He let his hand fall from my face down to his lap. “You and me together, that’s the good part,” he said. “But when the time comes, we’ll talk it through, yeah? Make sure we’re on the same page.” I nodded. “Good girl.”

My blush deepened, but I smiled at him. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Something horrid, I’m sure.”

I laughed. “I was thinking it must be the opposite. You see, Detective Walter Marshall, I quite adore you.”

He smiled back. “Do you now?”

“I do. I hope that’s okay with you.” 

He nodded. “It’s more than okay,” he said. “It’s also mutual.”

My smile spread wide. “So you like me, huh?” 

“Yes, Miss Sparks, I do.”

“I’m starting to question your taste, mister.”

His head fell back and he barked out a laugh that shook his whole body. “Normally that would be a good call, but not this time,” he said. “Besides, you can’t date a mess like me and question my taste.” 

I pressed a kiss to his cheek, letting my lips linger for a moment, enjoying the scratching-tickling of his beard against them. “You’re my favorite mess,” I said as I pulled away. 

He smiled at me. “Good, because it doesn’t get much better than this,” he joked.

I brushed a curl back from his forehead and let my fingers skim across his brow. He’d meant it as a joke, but sitting there with him, I couldn’t help but think it was true: It didn’t get much better than that.

I knew that Walter was tired. He kept yawning - and apologizing for it - during dinner. I kept telling him it was fine, that I understood, but he still seemed slightly embarrassed by it. After I cleared the table, I was going to get the tiramisu from the fridge but paused by the coffee pot on my way. 

“Do you want me to make you some coffee, Walt?” I asked, turning to look at him.

He’d been dozing and jolted awake, looking almost surprised at his surroundings before his eyes landed on me. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. You need some sleep.”

He nodded, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eye. “Yeah. I should probably go.”

“Or you could stay. You said you slept well last night, and I’d be worried about you if you drove home this tired,” I said. “And, you know, I kind of enjoyed it, too.”

“This isn’t an act just so I can get in your bed again.”

“I know.” I walked over to him and ran a hand over his hair, brushing it back from his face. I tilted my head towards the doorway. “Come on, bear. Go on up. Your sweatpants are folded on the chair in my room.”

He stood up in front of me. “Let me help you clean.”

I shook my head. “I’m not cleaning tonight. It’ll be there tomorrow. I’m going to set the coffee maker for the morning and lock up. That’s it.” 

He gave me a look that was the closest to pouting as I’d ever seen on him. “I’ll wait with you.” 

He followed me back to the coffee pot and wrapped his arms around my waist as I filled it with water, then put in a new filter and coffee grounds. As I set the timer, he left slow, open mouth kisses down my neck. I may have been complimentary when I was sleepy, but Marshall, as it turned out, was clingy. And I didn’t mind it one bit. 

“Let’s lock up,” I said to him. 

He buried his face in the crook of my neck and let out a breath. He stayed that way for a moment, then said, “Okay.”

He let me go and we snuffed out the candles, then he stayed close as I locked all the doors and turned off the lights. Going up the stairs, he held my hand, trailing behind me because the stairwell was too narrow for the two of us to walk side by side. When we reached my room, I gently nudged him in. 

“I’m going to the bathroom. Go get comfortable and I’ll be back in a minute,” I said. 

He just nodded his reply.

I continued down the hall to the bathroom. I had a laundry basket of clean pajamas to pick from, so I had a quick pee, then changed before piling my hair up in a bun. When I went back to my room, Marshall was already in bed. He was on his side and looked asleep. But after I turned off the light, I got in bed beside him and he immediately scooted closer.

“Do you want me to hold you?” he asked sleepily. 

“I was kind of hoping we could switch and you’d let me hold you,” I said. He cracked his eyes open and looked at me, the crease between his eyebrows visible in the dark. “Not in a backpack, koala type deal, like you hold me.” 

“How?”

“Like this.” I placed his arm around my middle, then gently guided him until his head was resting on my chest. I pulled the covers up around us before wrapping my own arm around him, lightly rubbing his back, leaving my right hand free to rake through his curls.

“You’re not wasting any time taking me up on my offer to play with my hair, are you?” he mumbled.

I smiled. “Nope. Is that okay?” He nodded. I let my fingers sink to his scalp and lightly began scratching it. After just a few seconds, his body weight seemed to double as he relaxed, melting into me, and the mattress. “Is this comfortable for you?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. “We can switch if it’s not.”

“No, s’good,” he said, his words slurred. 

I kissed his forehead and continued to scratch his scalp. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Holding him to me, I could feel his breathing slow and even out as sleep claimed him in a matter of seconds. But even after he fell asleep, I didn’t stop. I held that big bear to me and loved on him as much as I could, hoping that even in his sleep, he could feel it. My plans to spoil him that night had only included cooking dinner and getting him to relax for an hour. What I got was so much better. I had never cared for a man as much as I cared about him. All I wanted for the rest of my life was the deep peace that welled up in me as I held him. 

I woke the next morning with a hazy, dreamy feeling. I was warm and wrapped up and for a moment, I thought I was at the beach, stretched out on a towel under the sun. I expected to smell the ocean air, but when I breathed in, it was something else. Something better. Something that gave me the feeling of butterflies in my stomach. That feeling slowly began to peel the layers of sleep back from my mind, and as I began to wake, I felt the feeling of fingertips grazing up and down my back. Then I felt a kiss on my forehead. Soft, warm lips lingering on my skin, finally waking me up.

I opened my eyes and all thoughts of the beach disappeared. Gray sunlight streamed in from my window, lighting up my room enough for me to see Marshall’s face as he smiled at me. 

“Good morning, darling,” he said quietly. He was on his side, just inches away from me. 

“Good morning,” I said. 

I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the light, and taking in the form of the beautiful man in front of me. His head was propped up with one hand, his bare bicep next to my pillow, and roughly half the size of my head. His chest was mesmerizing as it rhythmically rose and fell. I’d never been attracted to chest hair before, but Marshall changed all of that. Without a second thought, I reached out and ran my fingers through it. He hummed contentedly. 

“How did you sleep?” I asked. 

“Like a rock.” His hand stilled at the small of my back. “How about you?”

“Amazing. You’re deceptively comfy for someone so stout.”

He laughed. “Am I?”

I nodded. “I like it.” 

I leaned forward and kissed his chest, the hair tickling my nose. His hand moved from my back as he reached up to cradle my head while I continued to pepper his skin with soft kisses. When I made it to the juncture of his shoulder and neck, he tilted my head back and captured my lips in a slow, lazy kiss. He pressed my back into the bed and was over me, surrounding me, as he kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, wanting to hold him as close to me as I could. He left me panting as his mouth moved from mine and kissed across my jaw and down to my neck. There was a spot behind my ear that he knew was my weakness, and he went straight for it. He nipped at it with his teeth before kissing it, and I went boneless against him. 

“I love it when you do that,” I breathed. 

His lips ghosted over my ear. I could feel his hot breath on me, sending a shiver down my spine and goosebumps across my skin. “I love doing it to you.” 

“It’s a shame I don’t live alone anymore. I could get used to waking up like this more often.”

He nosed my ear, kissing the underside of my jaw. “I live alone,” he said. “For the most part.”

“Are you bragging?”

He laughed. “No. Just letting you know that the next sleepover could be at my house.”

“A sleepover? Can we stay up all night telling ghost stories?” I joked.

“Anything for you, my love.”

“Anything is a dangerous promise, mister.”

He looked down at me. “And yet I mean it.”

I smiled. “You really do like me, huh?”

He pressed his forehead to mine. “I really do,” he said. “Actually, I…” He made his grunting-humming sound, then shook his head.

“You what?” I gasped jokingly. “Do you like like me, Walt?”

He looked me in the eye, smiling at me. “You’re the only one who calls me that, you know?”

I played with the hair at his neck, twirling a curl around my finger. “I didn’t know.” 

“I’m fairly sure most people don’t even know I have a first name.”

“I feel pretty special that you told me, then.”

“You are special.”

“And that’s why you like like me, right?” I teased. 

He let out a long, measured breath. “That’s why I love you.”

My heart felt like it stopped completely. “Are you serious?” I whispered.

He suddenly looked nervous. “I am. Is...is that okay?”

“Is it okay that you love me?”

He looked so boyish as he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yes, it’s okay.” I took his face in my hands. “Yes, yes, yes!” I said, peppering kisses all over it. “It’s…” I couldn’t even think of the right word. 

“Not too soon?” he questioned, though his worry seemed to be fading some after my reaction.

I shook my head. “No. Not at all, bear. It’s right on time.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Is it, now?”

“It is,” I said. “Because I love you, too.”

The smile he gave me right then made my heart flutter like never before. There were no worry lines on his face, no concern, just happiness. I wanted to cry at how beautiful it looked on him. “Do you really?”

“More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

He kissed me and it was like he was trying to pour every ounce of love he felt for me into it. It was so overwhelming that, finally, I did cry. Marshall held me and kissed the tears from my face.

The morning before, I thought that I couldn’t put into words what I felt for him. But right then, the words came so quickly, it was like I’d been saying them all along. 

“I love you,” I whispered. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

[craftypeaceturtle]

Distanced, part 2

Summary: How are these useless students coping with life?

Note: This is a group chat fic, my first one so this might not be that good! Also this contains swearing. Eventual intrulogical. 

Part 1 here!

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MESSAGES: To Remus Prince (Presentation)

Friday, 13:02

Hello, sorry to interrupt, but I just want to ask where you gathering your sources? Are there any particular databases you’re using? Thank you.

Remus Prince: I’m just going through the read list.

The reading list? But that only has one text that could be anything remotely useful for this topic!

Remus Prince: ye but it’s a starting point

Remus Prince: like u can read it and then read whatever it references.

Are we allowed to do that?

Remus Prince: wha

Remus Prince: DUH! 

Surely that must count as plagiarism or something of the sort. You can’t use someone else’s sources.

Remus Prince: u sound so stupid

Remus Prince: u’ll read the book it references and form ur own interpretation.

Remus Prince: u’ll get different quotes

Remus Prince: u’ll be using it for a different argument

Remus Prince: why would u not be allowed to read texts!

MESSAGES: To Remus Prince (Presentation)

Friday, 14:13

Okay I emailed Dr Smith and he said it was fine. Thank you for the advice.

Remus Prince: OMG

Remus Prince: You actually told the teacher on me!

The teacher agreed with you? You’re not in trouble.

Remus Prince: THAT WAS MY SECRET!

Remus Prince: now the teachers actually think I’m capable

If it makes you feel better, I did not mention your name.

Remus Prince: you really had to double check?

Maybe I was being a little paranoid but I don’t think you understand the crisis I’m currently having. I typically spend hours running around the library and searching random titles to figure out suitable texts. When all this time I could have just been using the references! I am beyond furious and relieved at this new technique to research. 

Remus Prince: ah of course

Remus Prince: you totally came across that way in the 2 messages you sent

My world view has been fractured, I think that justifies not texting much. 

Remus Prince: why did you apologise

Excuse me?

Remus Prince: HAH

Remus Prince: now who sucks at reading!

Remus Prince: You said sorry in the first message.

I wasn’t sure if you were in a lecture or class. It’s polite.

Remus Prince: nah

Remus Prince: I’d answer even if I was.

That is not nearly as comforting as you are intending. How far along are you in your research?

Remus Prince: honestly?

Remus Prince: I’ve read five pages in on a book on the reading list. 

Remus Prince: I’ve done like nothing.

That’s indeed some amount of research. Again, as long as you are done by the 15th then whatever it takes.

Remus Prince: See you said no judgement but I picked up a lot of judgement

We have already agreed your reading comprehension is not the best.

Remus Prince: HAH

Remus Prince: so what are u up to?

Actually working on the research project.

Remus Prince: im bored

Remus Prince: I’ve been sitting waiting for my washing machine for like 9 hours 

Remus Prince: maybe later I will do work

I sincerely doubt it has been nine hours. How come you’re washing your clothes at such an awkward time?

Remus Prince: Awkward?

I can’t think of many students who would wash their clothes in the middle of the week day with classes. 

Remus Prince: every1 washes their stuff on the weekend

Remus Prince: plus everyone knows the weekend is for doing nothing. Might as well get all my jobs done now.

You really plan to do nothing during the weekend?

Remus Prince: hells ye

Remus Prince: maybe, at most, I’ll send Dee to campus coffee

As long as you’re done by the 2nd. Though I really should congratulate you on your superior taste to coffee shops.

Remus Prince: ?

If universal opinion existed, then Campus Coffee being the best coffee shop would be considered one. For whatever ridiculous reason, both Patton and Roman don’t really like it. 

Remus Prince: really

Remus Prince: I thought I saw Ro go in.

Roman occasionally practises lines with his other theatre colleagues and that is always where they meet up. But he never buys a drink as he is apparently a literal man child and cannot cope with a drink that isn’t just chocolate and milk.

Remus Prince: RIGHT??????

Remus Prince: my roomie V likes to pretend he takes coffee but he can only drink hot choc. 

Remus Prince: He doesn’t deserve coffee anyway

Exactly! Have you talked to Remy there?

Remus Prince: YE

Remus Prince: He practically forced me to be his friend with how incredible he makes coffee

Remus Prince: He’ll even add energy drink to mine!

Okay maybe that is a little strange. But I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment. He finally convinced me to leave my usual order of a white coffee and I have not regretted it. 

He doesn’t actually add energy drink to your coffee right?

Remus Prince: ye he does but don’t worry he bullies me for it

Remus Prince: The entire time I sit and drink it he’ll be holding up his phone with 911 dialed.

That seems fair.   

Remus Prince: without being so incredibly forward

Remus Prince: do you want me to grab you a coffee now

What do you mean?

Remus Prince: Well im bored

Remus Prince: and it’s your fault for talking coffee

Remus Prince: now I really want coffee

Remus Prince: I’m now heading that direction.

I’m sorry but I cannot meet up right now. I’m doing work and then I want to be prompt coming home to help my roommate.

Remus Prince: fair thought id offer

MESSAGES: To Remus Prince (Presentation)

Friday, 14:20

If you’re still willing, I am sitting in the library and I would truly appreciate it if you could drop off the coffee. 

I can pay.

Obviously this is up to you. 

Remus Prince: soz was walking

Remus Prince: ye I can do that

Sorry for not being able to sit around, but I do appreciate this. 

Remus Prince: ur fine

Remus Prince: what u want

Firstly, it is “you’re”. Secondly, without sounding like a cliche film character, just say my name. Remy makes an effort to give me a slightly different order every day to “widen my tastes”.

Remus Prince: wow

Wow?

Remus Prince: For the very epitome of the nerd stereotype, did you really hit me with that “just say my name and they’ll know” trope?

Please, I can be cool.

Remus Prince: Are you begging?

Remus Prince: Also

Remus Prince: what do you look like again?

I’m sorry?

Remus Prince: reading comprehension! Fairly simple question.

I am wearing a black polo shirt with a blue tie. Caucasian with shaved hair. 5′10. 

Remus Prince: how efficient.

May I ask why?

Remus?

Remus Prince: Soz I just got our orders. 

Remus Prince: I’m really bad at faces.

You could have simply asked where I would be. I’m on the second floor, computer room 209. There’s a few others here but I’ll wave once you walk in. 

Remus Prince: okay maybe that would’ve made more sense

Remus Prince: shutup.

I know I have stated this before, but we have indeed talked before. You will recognise me. 

Remus Prince: listen I’m not fucking around.

Remus Prince: I am genuinely shit at faces

Remus Prince: it was one question prick

I apologise. I didn’t realise. 

Remus Prince: Hey I’m here, now heading up. 

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MESSAGES: To Padre!!

Friday, 16:00

Greetings wonderful Pat! Did you perhaps end up baking today like you said you would?

Padre!!: Heya Ro! Yeah, we made cupcakes! We didn’t fancy making icing but we did have choc chips!

AW YEAH! Just wanted to check so I know whether to buy cake. Anything I need to pick up while I’m here?

Padre!!: All good here. 

Padre!!: Logan saw Remus today.

hE DID????????

Padre!!: Yeah, he brought him coffee. Some special coffee, not his white coffee.

ASJKDGA

(also how on this great big boundiful earth do you know his usual coffee order?)

Padre!!: Because that’s what family does!

Why would he bring him coffee?

Padre!!: I have no idea. Logan didn’t really talk about it. 

He didn’t talk about it?!?!?!?!?!?!!?

Padre!!: I don’t know what to tell you. He got all quiet. He makes it sound like they don’t even like each other but he still brought him a coffee. 

EWEWEW

YOU DON’T THINK HE’S TRYING TO MAKE A MOVE

Padre!!: I don’t know. It sounds like it but Logan said they had a bit of a tiff in the texts.

... a tiff?

Padre!!: Like a small argument.

No I knew what it means, I meant it in a “omg you’re so adorable for describing a disagreement as a tiff”. 

Padre!!: I want to joke around Ro but I am a little worried about him. He acted fine after the coffee and he said they didn’t talk. It just seems like such a weird thing to do! I’m worried Remus would try and pull something. This sounds exactly like how all those stories you tell begins. 

Lo’s not an idiot. 

He’s a nerd. 

There’s no way he would fall into his trap. He’d let us know if something wasn’t right. 

Padre!!: Good point.

I’ll be home in like 5 mins. I’ll run.

Padre!!: You don’t have to Ro.

Padre!!: I’m just overreacting.

Padre!!: Ro?

Padre!!: You better make sure you’re still looking both ways even when running!