#but yeah. coffee. talk to me about this insanity today the inbox is open and i have So Many Thoughts about the belt corruption arc

[the-kipsabian]

i have so many more corruption arc thoughts still left in my brain if you care btw

[geminisholland]

Hi! What would you think about writing a fic where Tom and reader are both working on a show or movie or something, and they have feelings for each other, but they're too nervous to do anything, and then they both end up in a prop closet or something alone, and then ✨stuff✨ happens? If not that's fine!!

a/n: uhhh i got really carried away with this, and am really obsessed with the idea so thank u for sending it over!! also actress!reader is like my favorite trope to read so it really was no shock this was my favorite to write! i also did my best to portray tom as the gemini man he is. also, my inbox is open, send over requests!

warnings: cussing, sexual tension u could cut with a knife, an intense make out sesh (no smut)

word count: 2211

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if u are a struggling college student like me who doesn’t have any money, feedback and sharing my stories is a great way to support me. i love hearing feedback, so feel free to ask me or send any suggestions u may have, my inbox is open. i appreciate every single one of u more than u know. thank u thank u THANK U!!!!!

the long nights on set were beginning to catch up with you and your costars. every day you felt more delusional, surviving only by the caffeine that tom would bring every morning. it was really a routine at this point, you’d sit down in the chair of the hair and makeup trailer, and one minute later tom would stroll in with your exact order.

“and an iced matcha for the diva,” he liked to joke. that was his nickname for you, diva. he thought that maybe you’d pick up on his flirting if he started calling you names like diva, and princess. you payed no mind to him, because you thought he was making fun of you. that he didn’t take you seriously, and that was frustrating, because, well, you had feelings for him. you weren’t entirely sure how he felt about you, though, and it was driving you insane. you’d convince yourself you would be okay without him, that if he didn’t like you back, you’d survive it. but then he would walk in to the trailer, holding your matcha, and calling you diva. you couldn’t push aside the euphoria that rushed through your body every time he called you that. you actually really enjoyed it, but tried to ignore that as the embarrassment of him making fun of you settled in.

tom was really cocky too, but you assumed that came with being an excellent actor, and being quite successful. you’d talk to your friends about him, because when were you not talking to him? when were you not thinking about him?

“he’s so cocky, maybe i don’t actually have feelings for him,” you’d explain. “he walks around calling me names, who does he think he is?”

your friends would groan, because they heard this everyday. they would go from “yeah he sucks” to “aw, you should tell him how you feel, you two would be so cute together.”

you just felt so stuck. you’d act in scenes with him, and would feel the connection, but as soon as the director yelled cut the connection would turn to a code that you couldn’t decipher. you really couldn’t figure him out.

he would abruptly open your trailer door, and yell, “hey princess, let’s get going they’re ready for us!”

you’d roll your eyes, but walk with him to set anyways, because you enjoyed his presence. you were friends, at this point. he would invite you to his place for game nights, and take you out to dinner during particularly hard days. he would show up to your place, unannounced, with a pack of truly’s- just cause. you would give him rides to set, and get him his favorite food when he’s filming. you tried not to think about how often he would send you the “you up?” text, because you didn’t want to convince yourself this was something, when there was a possibility it was nothing.

but, you really liked him. he was tom holland, your celebrity crush. the person you’d call when you’re sad. the person who you’d run scenes with for hours on end, and never get tired of being around him. the person who you could just look at, and feel safe. he was home to you, you just didn’t know he felt the same. so, when the electricity went out during a particularly bad storm in Atlanta, and you and tom were in the supplies closet alone, you weren’t exactly prepared for what was about to happen.

“you really ordered an iced matcha while there’s, like, a borderline hurricane happening outside?” tom exclaimed. he stared at you as you stood up, and grabbed the drink from his hand.

“yes, i really did,” you shot back. “what are you gonna do? call me a ‘diva’?” you smiled at him, and his eyes slowly moved down your body than back up to meet your eyes. yes, he really did just check you out, but you were sure you only imagined that in your head.

“i might,” tom replied, then sat in the chair next to you. “it’s still early, though. there’s time to catch up on the name-calling.”

“i’m looking forward to it,” you teased, rolling your eyes at him. sometimes pushing tom was fun. tom shot you a glare, and you smiled to yourself as you sat back down.

“weather is crazy, huh?” tom observed. “i’m not the biggest fan of big storms like this.”

you looked over at him, noticing the concern on his face.

“i think they’re fun, i absolutely love just sitting at the window, and watching rain,” you confessed. the two of you were looking at each other, the only noise was the rain outside the trailer. your heart was beating so hard, you were certain tom could hear it. just the two of you, alone in a trailer. nothing new, yet something felt wildly different this time. perhaps it was tom’s vulnerability due to the storm happening outside.

the feelings you were marinating in were disrupted by the trailer doors being opened, and the makeup artists walking in.

“so sorry we’re late, the storm is insane,” one of them apologized.

“no need to be sorry, tanya, we’re just glad you got here safely,” you replied. tom nodded his head in agreement, and they started to work their magic on the two of you. while in the makeup chair, you and tom decided at the beginning of filming that you would switch who plays the music every day. so, your day to play the music was today, and even though the two of you agreed on this, tom complained.

“why can’t i just play the music today? you always play the same songs,” he whined. you rolled your eyes at him, trying to ignore him.

“oh god not taylor swift again!” tom groaned. you loved that even though you were the one who was perceived as dramatic, tom was actually the diva.

“tom, shut up,” you said back. “you are so annoying when it comes to this shit.”

you looked over at him, and he was looking at you. his eyes sparkled in the light, and you felt your stomach flutter at the way he stared you down. you looked away, staring back down at your phone to try and recover.

a few moments passed, and the two of you were done with hair and makeup. now was the real challenge, getting to the set during the insane storm.

“where’s the umbrella, tom?” you asked while you looked around.

“i have no idea,” he answered. you looked up and glared at him.

“didn’t you bring it over here? i could’ve sworn you were holding one when we walked here twenty minutes ago,” you mocked. tom smiled.

“it’s right here, i’m just messing with you,” he replied.

“you’re so annoying,” you remarked.

you grabbed your script and the matcha, then made your way over, talking about the scenes you were shooting today. this was something the two of you did almost every day, you liked to rehearse your lines before getting on the stage. when the two of you arrived, you set down your script, but kept drinking your matcha as you and tom started blocking. this was something you did before every scene, and was what made your days so long. you had to work out every detail of the scene you’d be filming before actually filming it; which was time-consuming, and sometimes frustrating. you and tom were set up at a table for this scene, sitting across from one another.

“y/n, if you could just move your head more towards the right, we’d get a better shot,” the director called out. so you did, and in doing so, your hand moved with you, and knocked the matcha off the table.

“oh shit,” you said, looking back at the director with an apologetic face. “i’ll clean it up, don’t even worry!”

tom sat across from you, laughing at you as you scooped the ice off the ground, and put it back into your cup.

“that doesn’t sound good,” the director replied.

“no, don’t even worry! i’m totally cleaning this up, it’s gonna be spotless,” you breathed out. you were extremely worried, though. the green liquid covered the floor of the diner set that was built. tom eventually started helping you.

“this is ridiculous, y/n, you can’t scoop the liquid with your hands,” he observed. “let’s go get some paper towels, okay?”

you looked up at him with watery eyes, you were worried that you had just ruined a set that took a while to build.

“okay,” you agreed. the director walked up to the two of you, looking at the spilled drink then back at you.

“i’d think paper towels would be more helpful than your hands, y/n,” he joked. “don’t you think?”

you nodded, “yes, tom and i will be right back with those.”

you and tom walked in silence over to the supplies closet, where they kept the paper towels.

“so embarrassing,” you let out under your breath.

“what was that?” tom asked. he opened the door to the closet, and turned the light on. the closet was huge, so both of you went in to look for the paper towels.

“it’s so embarrassing, doing that in front of everyone,” you admitted. “i shouldn’t have had my drink there.”

tom scoffed, “oh please, we all bring our drinks with us when we’re blocking, anyone could’ve done that!”

you nodded in agreement, uncertain of your voice at the moment, so you opted to stay silent. the lights started flickering right as you found the paper towels.

“that was weird,” tom announced.

“yeah, that was weird,” you replied.

the lights flickered again, and within seconds you were in pitch black.

“wow,” you let out. “tom, where are you?”

“i’m right here,” he said. you laughed, because you thought it was a ridiculous answer. you put your arms out, and tried to walk towards him.

“do you have your phone? i need a flashlight,” you asked.

“no, i left it out there,” he replied.

“shit, me too,” you noted. “put your arms out, i can’t find you.”

“okay,” he said. you walked for a few seconds, then ran into him.

“there you are,” you commented.

“here i am,” he said. the two of you were standing so close, his hot breath was felt on your face. your eyes started to adjust to the darkness, and you could see his features now. you could see his lips. oh my god, you could almost feel his body against yours. you felt butterflies in your stomach as you realized just how close he was to you. you could just touch him, you thought. you could, you really could just grab his face, and kiss him. right here, right now.

“should we try looking for the door?” you asked out loud. the silence was killing you, you had to escape it. tom stood still, breathing harder with every second. “tom?”

“you talk too much, you know that?” he breathed out. you were so taken aback by that statement, your breath grew shaky. “every time i try to make a move, you talk. you just-you talk too much.”

you stood there, in the dark, in absolutely disbelief.

“oh,” you let out. you didn’t know what to do, you were frozen. your eyes were completely adjusted now, and you could see tom more clearly. his face, his arms, his hands, everything. his hands moved up your body, starting at your hips then making their way to your face. you brought your hands around his neck, you were breathing so hard you felt as if you could pass out.

“you are so beautiful, y/n,” he revealed. “so fucking beautiful.”

you smiled, although you weren’t sure he could see that. your hands moved to his face, you cupped his cheeks into your hands. tom moved his face closer to yours, cupping your cheeks as well. he placed his lips onto yours, then started to kiss you. like, really kiss you. not a cute, little peck that you would see in the movies. a rough, passionate kiss. the kiss you had been waiting for all this time. one of his hands dropped to your lower back, and he pushed your body onto his. your hands started to move under his shirt, as your tongues started to swirl together. your cheeks flushed as the warmth of his tongue and body encapsulated you. his hand moved off your cheek, and started to move under your shirt to take it off.

the door abruptly opened, and a bright flashlight made you and tom move your hands up to your face. your bodies broke apart, but the damage was done.

“tom, y/n, we need you back on set, they’re about to turn on the generator,” one of your costars said. “oh, don’t forget the paper towels.” they started laughing, as well as both you and tom.

the three of you walked back, and you wiped your mouth, then looked at tom. he smiled at you, then put his hand around your waist.

you leaned into him, then whispered, “we’ll have to finish that later.”

he shook his head in agreement, “okay, diva.”

taglist;

@zspideyy @lilhoodhippie @th45 @lmaotshollandd @hollandfanficlove 

[geniusgub]

“north” preview// spencer reid

I’ve finally reached 200 followers and as a thank you to my lovely, amazing, and supportive followers, I’m posting a preview to my Spencer fic called “north.” 

I also wanted to thank some of my amazing friends for helping me out with deciding what part to post. All my thanks and love go to @thundergunexpresss @spencer-reid-in-a-pool @baubaby @timey-wimey-lovi 

I hope that everyone enjoys. My inbox is always open and I’d love to hear what you have to say about my writing. Thank you for sticking around the madness and chaos and shit posts of my blog🖤🖤

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 1.6k

"Hi, Spencer," Amelia pops up beside me with her stunning smile.

I take a refreshing breath as soon as I see her, smiling back. "Hi, Amelia," I push myself out of the booth in an attempt to greet her properly.

"Okay," Amelia holds her hands out in front of me, as if stopping me from coming any closer, "so I was thinking about you when you were off at work-"

That's nowhere near the end of her sentence, but it catches my attention the most. I couldn't stop thinking about her, but she was actually thinking about me. It's not one sided. I've never been successful with girls but I did something to this one to make her think about me.

"Or more specifically," she corrects herself, "about how you don't like shaking hands and I totally agree with you. I looked up statistics on handshaking and it's so disgusting. So," she enunciates the word with a huge smile, "I came up with alternatives,"

I raise my eyebrows. "Alternatives?"

"Yeah! For handshaking," Amelia tells me. "So we could high five, but that wasn't my favorite option. We could fist bump, or we could elbow bump, or we could do like," she holds up her hand with her pinky out, "almost like a pinky promise but then I thought that it's still technically touching hands, but we're not covering as much surface area as a whole handshake would. And, of course, I'd assume that hugs are off the table, which is fine." Amelia let's out a little breath and then a giggle. "That was a lot all at once. Sorry about that,"

"No, it's okay," I nervously tuck my hands in my pocket and make a mental reminder to keep my feet still. "It's actually really, um, it's really sweet that you put so much thought into how to greet me,"

Amelia presses her lips together in a shy smile. "I should go order my tea. I'll-"

"Actually, I-"

"Spencer!"

I let out a small laugh at the perfect timing. "I noticed your order the other day and I ordered for you already, if that's okay. I hope it is,"

Despite it being five incredibly long days after our first meeting, Amelia is just as stunning to me now as she was before. Her skin is glowing and her eyes are still harnessing the beauty of the ocean. Her hair is up in a bun today with some pieces still falling out to frame her face. She's wearing a black turtleneck with a plaid skirt, black stockings, and the same black heeled boots as before. There's no camera around her neck today, but I see the straps of her leather backpack around her shoulders and I assume it's tucked away in there. She looks different, sure, but I still have to keep myself from swooning.

"That's really sweet of you, Spencer, thank you," I can swear Amelia's cheeks are red.

"Sit, I'll go grab them," I gesture back to the table before rushing off to grab both of our piping hot drinks, rushing back before they can cool off too much. I sit back down and slide the cup over to Amelia, which she grabs with a grateful nod. "So how are you?"

Amelia takes the first sip of her tea as I pull off the top of mine and blow gently. "I'm pretty great, actually. The weather isn't so nice out today, but it makes for some beautiful pictures. What about you?"

"I'm," I weigh my options of what I could say for a moment, "happy to be here,"

…

"Tomorrow, same time? As long as you don't get a case today,"

"That sounds like a plan to me," I stand at the same time Amelia does, putting my messenger bag over my shoulder and leading her out. I make sure to hold the door open for her and let her out first to be a gentleman. "So I'll text you or call you later and let you know if I get a case,"

"I'll be waiting," she says as she buttons up her coat and then puts her back on, smiling at me.

We're facing each other in front of the door to the cafe, just waiting for the proper goodbye. I hold up my hand with my pinky sticking out, and I'd do anything to immortalize the smile that comes to Amelia's face in that exact moment.

"I knew you'd like this one," she murmurs, wrapping her warm pinky around mine. "I'll talk to you soon, Dr Reid,"

"You know, you can call me Spencer," I say, almost refusing to let go of her hand.

"I'll think about it," she smirks, pulling away and going walking the opposite way. I watch her go, too entranced by her to even move. She has a certain youthful bounce to the way she walks that makes me want to run right up to her and sweep her off her feet.

But I shake my head at my own intrusive thoughts and force myself to turn around and get to the metro. I can't afford to be late again. I can't afford anyone asking questions.

///

The world has a funny way of working, and I've noticed that many times throughout the years. Nothing ever works out the way I think it will. After all I've seen, I expect to work myself to death and die alone. I'm a loose canon and it's obvious. I keep myself reined in, but that won't last for long. I don't deserve to be loved.

But then Amelia waltz's into my life. She comes bouncing in with her black heels, vintage cameras, tea bags, nose piercing, beautiful smile, and equally stunning laugh. She makes me feel like a normal person. She doesn't treat me like an FBI agent, or like someone who has endured trauma, and maybe that's because I haven't told her about any of trauma, but I intend to keep it that way for as long as I can. Amelia comes laughing into my life with her denim skirts that aren't appropriate for the cold weather, curly blonde hair wrapped in patterned scarves or tied back in scrunchies, love for red wine, entrancing blue eyes, and her affinity for strawberries.

It's impossible to not fall in love with her and I hate myself for that. She makes it easy, so maybe it's not my fault that I can't get her out of my head. Maybe it's not my fault that I look at the empty spot on my desk and wonder what it would be like to have a picture of her there. Maybe it's not my fault that I hold her pinky in mine for far too long when we say our goodbyes. I wish I could blame my feelings all on her. I wish I could blame Amelia for how fast I'm falling for her.

I fall in love with the energy she radiates. I fall in love with the way she speaks of her creative process while painting a new piece or drawing a new picture. I fall in love with the way she claims she has a foolproof formula for finding hidden treasures in any given thrift store. I fall in love with the way she talks about her artistic and creatives processes. She speaks of everything with such passion and fire in her eyes that it draws me in. Amelia has taken to setting an alarm on her phone so that I make sure I leave on time for work and every few days, she makes sure to show up before I do so that she can order both of our drinks so that it's not always me ordering for her and "wasting my money on her hot, flavored water."

Amelia and I keep up our morning coffee meetings for two months. We meet as much as we can, only taking the time off when I'm not away on a case. It's actually normalizing my sleep schedule too and I'm getting more sleep than I have in two years- or since Maeve died. When these meetings started, I used to not be able to sleep out of pure excitement of knowing I'd be able to see Amelia again. But then she started to text me the night before, sometimes to remind me to set an alarm so I'm not late or to remind me to bring a magic trick to show her (magic tricks are now common occurrences in the mornings) or to just say how she's looking forward to seeing me tomorrow. Most people usually aren't excited to see me specifically.

The word date never surfaced in any of our conversations. I'm not sure if any of these would be considered a date. Typically, dates happen at night, but these coffee meetings happening bright and early in the morning. And maybe I'm too scared to even bring up the word date because then that will solidify what we're doing, if we even are doing anything. I'm too scared to admit that I'm falling way too hard for Amelia.

I wish I could man up and ask her out for real. I want to be able to see her outside of the confines of this tiny cafe just a block away from my apartment. I want to be able to see her out on the town, laughing and bouncing on her toes in the adorable way that she does. I want to maybe be somewhere with her where we're not just sitting and drinking tea or coffee. I want to know even more about her. I want to know everything. I know I feel something strong towards her and as much as I don't want to admit it, I need to figure out what it is before I go insane.

[sirius]

Could I please have a young Sirius black x reader with the prompts 9, 14, 38 ,44 and 50? Thank you! I love your writing!

9. “You hurt her, I stab you, okay?”  14. “Take a deep breath and please calm the fuck down.”  38. “I need to punch something, preferably their face.” 44. “Don’t talk to me, I need coffee first.”  and 50. “Jesus Christ Godric Gryffindor, I forget how much I hate exercise.”

(Could you do29, 34 & 54 with Sirius ??) 29. “It’s too early for this, just go back to sleep.” 34. “You are so sweet, and I am so sorry.” 54. “I don’t know why I bother.”  

(Heyy could you do 26 and 9 with Sirius?) 26. “I’m not quite sure how it happened, but it did.” 

this is just one clusterfuck of Sirius prompts from cute nonnies who dropped them into my inbox. I hope you enjoy. p.s. soz its really late and I'm a lil drunk and i have to get up early tomorrow so the ending is a little rushed. sorry!

p.s.s. jealous!sirius, amirite?

Waiting for Sirius Black to ask you out is torture, and sometimes you feel like beating him to it, but that’s not how it works. You can’t jump to the end if you haven’t passed ‘Go’ yet. There were so many damn rules in this stupid game, and you have had enough. 

And, unfortunately for your friends, your impatience has manifested itself into a grouchy, grumpy mood. Stomping toward your table at the Great Hall, you hold up a hand to Mary and Marlene, who had both opened their mouths to greet you cheerily.  

“Don’t talk to me, I need coffee first,” you grumble, sinking into the seat beside Lily and pouring a cup of steaming, black coffee.

“She has her coffee black like her soul,” Marlene remarks, and Dorcas snorts into her cereal.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” Lily carefully asks as she watches you take a sip of coffee.

“Just peachy,” you remark, your lips twisting into a sardonic smile.

“You’re in such a good mood today, I could hardly tell!” Emmeline quips, dryly, as she reaches across and snatches a piece of toast.

“Seriously, (Y/N), is something up?” Mary asks and you drop your spoon into your porridge.

“Can you please choose your words more carefully, I don’t want to be reminded of the problem.”

Flickers of confusion flit across the girls face, but Lily understands you immediately. As the girls resumed a tedious conversation about Quidditch (it was more like a heated debate between Marlene and Dorcas), Lily turns to you with sympathetic eyes.

“What did he do?” Lily murmurs.

“It’s what he didn’t do…” you grumble and Lily lets out a sigh, “I don’t know why I bother anymore, Lils. There have been millions of opportunities for Sirius to get his head out of his ass and ask me out but he just…maybe I was wrong. Maybe he doesn’t like me that way…”

“No, I think you’re wrong there,” Lily shakes her head pensively, “It is obvious that Sirius likes you, even James can see it.”

“You and your best friend James,” you grin and she slaps your shoulder.

“It’s not like that,” she insists, before adding, “And don’t change the subject. Look, I think Sirius is just hesitating for some reason…”

“Or, he’s just being a git.”

Lily bites her lip and nods. “Boys are gits. We should move to Iceland together and live in a log house.”

“That sounds more romantic than my love life,” you reply, with a sigh, “wish it was that easy.”  

“It can be!” Lily grins, “I can get the fake passports and everything,”  

“Yeah, but I don’t think these twits will be able to survive without us,” you quip, tossing a nod toward your four friends, “More specifically, without you.”

Lily snorts, shaking her head with a grin. Marlene and Dorcas have finally stopped bickering and Mary is gazing at the two of you suspiciously.

“What were you two talking about just then?” she asks, her brow raised.

“We’re illegally moving to Iceland, wanna come?” Lily remarks casually, like acquiring fake visas and committing fraud wasn’t as big as a deal as it should be. She pops her spoon into her mouth and hums around it.

“Iceland’s rather far,” says Mary, smashing her banana with her fork, “Besides, Marlene would go insane if she didn’t get any dick for more than three seconds,”

“One more word out of you and I’m punching you in the tit,” Marlene snaps, but a loose grin hangs from her lips.

“That’s why Dildo’s exist, Marlene” you retort, wearing a sly grin “So that you can get the D without the Dude.”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun…” a voice says from behind you and you turn to find The Marauders standing behind you. James and Sirius wear matching smirks while Remus’ brows are knitted together and Peter is blushing bright red.

“It’s not supposed to be,” you reply, coolly, staring at Sirius as you say it, “Not for you, anyway.”

“Shame,” Sirius sighs, slinking into the seat beside you, “I was thinking if you weren’t busy…”

Was this it? 

You wait with bated breath as Sirius’ lips curl at their edges. And then a laugh burst from between them and tinkles in the air and your heart sink through your chest, hitting the ground with a hard slap.

Lily groans and face palms. Even James looked disappointed.

“Well, this is nice and all, but I’m going now,” you say, very quickly, collecting your books and rising from your seat.

“I just got here,” Sirius remarks, his arms spreading out beside him.

“Exactly!” you snap, mincing toward the door. You need to get out of here, away from Sirius and his stupid face and stupid eyes and–

“(Y/N)!”

Ignore him, he’s a twat

“(Y/N), wait!”You stop, expecting to find grey eyes imploring you to stay. Instead, you find brown eyes wide with nerves.

It’s Adam Bones. One of the cutest boys in school. You are completely speechless as a soft smile forms on his lips, ones that many girls dream of kissing.

“Oh, hey Adam,” you smile, trying to cover the flutter of nerves in your chest, “What’s up?”

“Well, as you know, there’s a Hogsmeade trip planned before Christmas and…well…I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me?”

You consider him, eyes sweeping over his boyish features dressed in blue and silver. You have been studying with Adam in Charms ever since Professor Flitwick assigned the two of you together. He really was cute but…Sirius…

“You are so sweet,” you sigh, “and I am so sorry…”

“I get it,” Adam shrugs, looking rather defeated, “Maybe another time?”

“(Y/N)?” You spin around at the sound of your name that has just left Sirius Blacks lips, “What’s going on?”

“You’ve met Adam, haven’t you?”

“Once,” Sirius eyes him with a wicked glare, “And that was enough for me.”

“Ignore him,” you drawl, “He’s got a medical condition called ‘being an asshole’, it’s incurable and he can’t help it.”

Adam smiles again, but this time it’s more strained, like he’s holding back something. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Why?” Sirius snaps, jaw clenched, “Why are you seeing (Y/N) tomorrow?”

“What are you, her keeper?” Adam scoffs and Sirius takes a step forward.

“Answer the damn question,” Sirius growls through a clenched jaw. Sirius is glaring fiercely at Adam, and you don’t have to ace Divination to know where this conversation is heading. You step between them and gently push on their chests with a light touch.

“Why don’t we all take a deep breath and calm the fuck down,” You snip.

Something flashes across Sirius’ face, anchoring him to the ground. He looks at you, his eyes darting over every stern line on your face, before he turns back to Adam, fierce aggression raging in his eyes.

“You hurt her, I stab you, okay?” He growls, a predators warning.

Adam’s eyes narrow on Sirius, maliciously. “Are you threatening me?”  

“It’s not a threat, it’s a promise,” Sirius grits, “and I always keep my promises.”

And just like that, Sirius storms away, fists curled at his sides like he wants to punch something.

Later that day, you were walking down the hallway towards the Library when you heard voices echoing from around the corner. It took you a moment to realise that it was Sirius and you were just about to turn in the opposite direction when you heard your name thrown into the conversation.

“I need to punch something, preferably his face.” Sirius roars, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.

“Is this about (Y/N)?” You hear Remus Lupin murmur, “Because if it is, it’s your own damn fault. You could’ve–”

“–but he didn’t,” James Potter finishes, “He should’ve–”

“–yet he didn’t.”

“Can you two stop talking about me like I’m not here? I’m aggressive and angry and I want to tear this school in half…”

“There’s a name for that,” James says, “it’s called Jealousy. And you wouldn’t be feeling this way if you had just–”

“–but you didn’t,” Remus interjects.

From your left, you hear footsteps echo down the hallway, and you start as they approach you at a rapid speed. Panicking, you step out into the hallway, catching the attention of the three Marauders who are lingering outside Filch’s office.

“(Y/N)” Sirius murmurs and you turn in the opposite direction, pacing away from him quickly. “(Y/N)! Wait up!”

You don’t slow down. You don’t even turn to look at him.

“(Y/N)!” he huffs, before adding, “Godric Gryffindor, I’ve forgotten how much I hate exercise…”

His dry wit manages to bring you to an abrupt stop and Sirius nearly crashes into you.

“You know, you were a real jerk to Adam before,” you snap and Sirius narrows his eyes.

“Adam was a jerk to begin with,” Sirius mutters, bitterly.

“You can’t say that, you don’t even know him.”

“Oh, but I do,” Sirius says, before adding, “are you sure you want to date someone you hardly know?”

You gape at him, “Adam and I aren’t dating,” you snap, “Besides, it’s none of your– look, it doesn’t matter. Just–Just go back to your friends and your ignorance before Filch comes, I thought I heard him just before,” you mumble, sourly, before leaving Sirius in a cloud of his own confusion.

It’s four in the morning when you wake up, and it’s not your alarm, but Sirius Black, standing at the foot of your bed and hissing your name.

“S-Sirius?” you murmur, groggily, “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he whispers, “we need to talk.”

“It’s too early for this, just go back to sleep,” you mutter, flopping flat on your stomach.

“No, (Y/N), I need to talk to you, please…” There is something in Sirius’ voice that is pleading with you, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say your name with such desperation before. You turn and squint at him. Every inch of his handsome face is etched with anxiety and washed with moonlight. He’s the only person you know to look so handsome while anxious.

“Okay,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes, “Okay, one sec.”

You slip out of the covers and pull your night gown on before following Sirius down the stairs and into the common room. He sinks into the couch, you sit beside him.

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier,” he begins, sincerity weaves between his words, “I really am. I was a jerk and–”

“–It’s okay, Sirius,” you begin, “But I think Adam deserves the apology more than I do…”

Sirius winces, “I guess you’re right. But that’s not the only reason why I wanted to talk to you…” You gaze at Sirius curiously, watching as he screws his courage up and strings it into words, “I’ve been meaning to tell you this for months and I don’t know how to say it so…here it goes…”

Could this be it?

“(Y/N), I really like you…”

It is. Finally.

“… A lot. More than a lot, like I can’t even begin to describe how much I like you but anyway, the point is is that…I like you. I’m not quite sure how it happened, but it did. And then I realised, it’s always been you, all those other girls were just a distraction, because I thought you didn’t like me that way and I didn’t want to ruin what we have. And, well, I was wondering if–”

Sirius didn’t have the chance to finish, because you had leant forward and crashed your lips against his, as reckless as a tidal wave throwing itself against the shore. Sirius recovered quickly from his shock, and he began to kiss you back, his hands wrapping around your waist as you threw your arms around his neck. You moaned into the kiss as you felt the warmth of his lips crash over you, filling you up like golden sunlight. He tasted like redemption, like hope, like fresh rain trickling over your tongue. He is beautiful. And he is yours.

Finally, he was yours.

[resetmypatientviolence]

Picture to Burn (Seth x MC x Matt)

Picture to Burn-- Part 1 of this fic series (I think?)

Word count: 1,499 Pairing: Seth x Terrance [MC] x Matt

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Language; Matt doesn’t actually make an appearance, FYI

Summary: How was Terrance supposed to leave Seth alone in after the disaster of a comedy show? For that matter, how could she NOT kiss him? She didn’t think anything of the paparazzi’s stolen picture until the next morning when everybody wants to know about her “Mystery Man”. It would all be okay, maybe even great, if she also didn’t have the same secret moments with Matt Rodriguez, the actor with a heart of gold.

Suggested Song Accompaniment: Bad at Love-- Halsey

Note: I have a name for my Drake x MC x Liam fic series (finally), “Supposed to Be” which you can find here. The 3rd chapter is coming soon! Thank you for your support of my writing! Enjoy!

Terrance pulled her head up, reluctantly; blonde curls falling over her bare shoulder, tank top strap slipped off her shoulder. The water Seth got for her before he headed back to his apartment was untouched. She groaned. At least her head wasn’t swirling. She had worse mornings.

 Propping herself on an elbow, she grabbed the lukewarm water and drank it in big gulps, last night coming back into focus. Seth’s disaster of a show. The kiss in the dressing room. The first round of drinks. Then another. Then another bar. Then back to her apartment, ordering pizza, and drinking beers and watching D-grade movies. Kisses, and lots of them, some small and others deep and steamy, peppered between everything.

 Finished, Terrance smiled to herself, setting the glass back on the nightstand. Seth was drunk too, but he still tucked her in, Terrance giggling the whole time, and gave her water. She touched her lips. She didn’t want him to go, stalling him with insistent kisses, but she grew too tired to keep up her resistance. Though, what were they waiting for?

 Looking at the door, she sighed, quietly. Nothing was official with Matt… or him… but why did she feel so conflicted and guilty when she looked into Seth’s eyes? Why would she be breaking somebody’s heart eventually? Could she… not? “Or you can just stop kissing cute boys…” she muttered to herself, dragging herself out of bed. She came here to act, after all. Not be caught up in confusion, even if nothing was official. It felt so small town.

 It was a quiet morning—she still had time before she had to be on set. Coffee brewing, Terrance showered, and changed, entering the kitchen just as the pot beeped. “Ugh, finally.” Pouring herself a cup, she sat on the counter and pulled out her phone for the first time. She used to scroll through it half asleep in bed… but ever since her newfound fame, she needed to be sharp—focused. Who knew if a another surprise interview would appear the morning of?

 As the new usual, notifications everywhere. Thousands of followers. She posted a picture of her coffee. Likes, instantly. She exhaled, slow. It was… she didn’t know how to feel. Matt couldn’t even relate. A text, from Chazz, well, multiple.

 Ter! Is that your neighbor??

 Girl!! Spill!

Text me the second—and I mean—the second you wake up!!

Puzzled, she tilted her head. I do live by people, yeah.

 In the picture!

What????????

 “Oh, shit.” The photographer. Matt. Chazz sent the photo, accompanied by an article from TMZ. Hollywood’s Newest IT Girl and her Mystery Man—CAUGHT!

 She rubbed her temple. There was no denying it was her, hair, smile and all. Their lips, barely touching, pulling away from the kiss, but the photographer still got the shot. Seth’s hands wrapped around her back, gripping the fabric of her dress, like he never wanted to let her go. She gulped and set the cup on the counter.

 The tabloids picked it up. Want to know everything about him and you. My inbox is exploding. On my way to now to take you to your shoot—you have some answers to give.

 What if there isn’t any?????

 WTF TER?!

 She slouched, sinking lower and lower into herself. “Shit,” she breathed. None of this would have mattered, of course, if she hadn’t been tangled up with Matt.

 Matt was... amazing. New, fast paced, grand, and yet, genuine. It was like she could see through him and he to her. He wasn’t just an actor, he was a person who just wanted to feel normal once in a while. She knew he liked how she grounded him and made those parts of him flourish in their short time as more close than friends—and coworkers—should be.

 Seth was also… amazing. Soft, gentle, funny, and familiar. Like home. That might be the Midwest connection, but it was deeper than that. She lost herself in his blue eyes and she would do anything to protect him, and him to her. With him, she felt at home, at ease, comfortable in the insanity of her new life.

 Nothing was official with either. But, somehow, she felt that she picked the two men in Hollywood who might actually care if she was conflicted between two people. She should have told them, but life was coming at her all too fast. She just wanted to see them when she could and see if there was a connection for something more there. If there was. And for Matt… she could only hope he didn’t pay attention to the tabloids anymore. She’s rather tell him in person than have him see… that. The picture.

 Another text notification. Not from Chazz. Matt. Her heart leapt to her throat. She was about to open it when the knocking started. “Coming!” She slid off the counter and nervously rubbed her hands together.

 She opened it and there was Seth. He offered a smile. “Hey, Iowa, got some more coffee?”

 She nodded stiffly. “Yeah, help yourself.” He walked in and she popped her head out into the hallway… just making sure nobody was there. There wasn’t.

 Terrance bit her lip and joined him in the tiny kitchen, picking up her still warm cup. She really should write a book on how to feel like a shitty person within one minute. Bestseller. “Umm… so…” she started. “Thanks for the water, it was a lifesaver.”

 Seth chuckled, eyes crinkling. “Always, Iowa.” They paused. Her phone on the counter with Matt’s text. “So… that picture….”

 She shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Seth, I didn’t know that he’d follow me and get that and…”

 “No, no, it’s okay. Well, I mean an invasion of our privacy, but look at this.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed her the screen, filled with notifications too. Texts, emails…. She squinted her eyes and cocked her head.

 “They figured out my mystery man, huh?”

 “Clubs are asking me—asking me—to do stand up for them. Can you believe it?” He sounded incredulous, but Terrance saw the smile on his lips. It warmed her heart. Well, maybe one good thing came from the picture. Could that outweigh the bad?

 She kissed him on the cheek, smiling. He raised his eyebrows but then smiled, truly. “I’m happy that that happened, Seth. You deserve it.” He sipped his coffee, free hand tucking a wild curl behind her ear.

 “The next thing… what do you want me to do next?”

 “Hmm?”

 “If people ask, I’ve got tabloids wanting to interview me, to give the scoop on you, us, and… it’s not my place to speak for you, if you want to say anything.” Her phone buzzed again. She broke her gaze from Seth’s blue eyes. Matt’s name, again. She frowned, heartbeat speeding. Oh god oh god oh god.

 “I… it’s a little crazy, isn’t it?” she said, shaking her head. “Just a kiss and bam, suddenly everybody cares about my personal life. I shouldn’t be complaining… but…” Terrance trailed when his happy smile was gone. He stared into his coffee. She grit her teeth and replayed her words. Just a kiss.

 Seth was still quiet. Her phone, buzzed, again. “Listen,” she said, moving next to him, nudging his side. “Please don’t talk to the tabloids. If… if this is something, let’s have this move at our pace, okay? Not what Hollywood wants.”

 He nodded, looking at her now. “Will do, Iowa.” Then, he cupped her face, fingertips lingering on her skin before he kissed her lips, so gentle. So unlike the one kiss in the hallway of their apartment the moment they entered it last night…. Terrance shivered. “For the record, I do hope that this will be something, someday,” he said after the kiss.

 Me too, Terrance wanted to say, but couldn’t because she wasn’t sure of the truth herself. Instead, she kissed him, biting his lower lip exactly how he liked it. A small moan from the base of his throat. And suddenly, she was writing the sequel of How to Feel Like a Shitty Person in One Minute, aptly titled How to Become a Bigger Piece of Shit Than You Already Are. “I think you have some new jokes to write up, Mystery Man,” she whispered.

 He laughed, eyes twinkling, bright with possibility. “That I do, Iowa. Have a… er, story to tell when you get back from your shoot today.”

 Terrance picked up her phone. It buzzed. Again. The third book of her human shit trilogy was on its way. “I’ll have a novel by the end of this movie.”

 Seth grinned. “See you later, Terrance.” He kissed her cheek and headed out. Instantly, the ease, despite the situation at hand, disappeared. Terrance grit her teeth, and stared at her phone. Now or never.

 Taking a deep breath, she swiped, opening up Matt’s messages.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the fiction. All rights go to Pixelberry Studios.

[spideyxchelle]

I know you probably have a lot of headcanon request. But if you would mind I'd love something along the lines of peter and mj are dating or on the verge of dating and Liz comes back. And then idk mj thinks peter is still into Liz and starts to pull away and peter is kinda like.. ??

this prompt has been sitting in my inbox haunting me forever now and i hope i do it justice, i’m not sure i did, tbh. music insp. 

there is nothing worse than an almost-something, an almost-could-have-been. and MJ knows that better than most how that feels. 

perhaps we should start at the beginning. shall we? 

for the rest of sophomore year (because homecoming is at the beginning of the school year) peter and MJ got close as hell. because of decathlon at first….and a little secret getting out.

MJ found his webbing formula in his school notes during a study session for chem and, for obvious reasons, had a lot of questions. and when peter tried to answer (see: fumbling) she didn’t buy his shit. so Ned had to learn to share guy in the chair duties. except MJ was better at eating snacks and offering witty commentary than geeking out over spiderman. because even if peter was a real superhero or some shit, he was still the same guy who had a mullet in the 8th grade. and c’mon.

the summer between sophomore year and junior year was the moment for peter and mj. their friendship was on a path, a one way ticket of inevitability. and where it ended they both kind of knew. 

they’d spent the whole year being friends, sharing laughs and inside jokes and becoming invaluable to one another. peter had lost count of how many times mj had patched him up after a mission gone wrong. or how many times she’d stolen his snacks during movie marathons. 

their touches burned, their glances lingered a bit too long…..and their smiles felt private and personal. even Ned found himself leaving the room whenever they had one of their awkward, fully-loaded moments. 

and MJ started to watch their every interaction. like, maybe today was the day they took the plunge. 

almost-something, an almost-could-have-been. 

because in august liz allen toomes moved back to new york city. 

she had gotten into Columbia, MJ heard from Cindy, and classes started in August. which meant the summer of almosts or could-bes can to an abrupt halt. their moment had passed. liz was back in town. and MJ knew there wasn’t even a contest between the two girls. 

which is why she pulls away. full stop. 

at first, its easy to pull away. peter doesn’t even try and fight it. she’s busy. she has to watch her little brother. she has a family thing. the lies come easily. 

slowly, it becomes harder. because peter starts to figure something is up. especially when they go back to school. because they have classes together and MJ still finds excuses to avoid him. in the same-fucking-classes. 

and her pulling away hurts. because he’s sure she was an almost-something, an almost-could-have-been. and he can’t put his finger on the pulse of what went wrong, of how he fucked this up. 

so, he does the worst possible thing. he asks liz. 

since she’s moved back, they’ve gotten close. ish. as close as he can be with someone he used to have a pathetic crush on and the daughter of the girl he put in prison. he and liz are insanely complicated. but good friends. considering. 

and she’s a girl. maybe she’ll understand how a girl thinks and feels. because he sure as hell can’t figure it out. 

he shows up at her dorm room and does an adorable, little snapchat about getting lost at Columbia (which MJ totally sees and doesn’t help the situation). when liz sees him, she notices his face and posture and immediately asks, “what’s wrong with you, peter?” “i’m having….girl trouble?” he offers sheepishly. she pauses, then pushes her door open more so he can come in. they get comfy in her room on her questionably springy twin mattress. “don’t you think its a little weird asking me for girl advice?” “i’d ask may…but she just tells me i’m great and then we eat thai food.” “okay,” she laughs, and he briefly remembers why he liked her so much. 

she was kind. he would have done anything for her, once. but everything that felt like worship with liz is also why his feelings faded. while MJ, his feelings were different. she frustrated him. sometimes he wanted to scream at her. but he wanted the hard times with her. almost as much as he wanted the good times. and he REALLY wanted the good times. 

“so?” peter waits for all of three seconds for blurting out, “i like MJ. and i thought she liked me.” liz blinks, obviously taken aback, “michelle?” “yeah,” peter stutters, “i just…do. “ “you don’t have to defend it to me, peter” he bounces his knee and asks, “so what’s the trick, the secret? how do i…..uh…make it happen?” liz pats his his knee in a forced effort to make it stop shaking, “there’s no secret, peter. sometimes you gotta just put it all on the line and hope it works.” 

he remembers the last time he did that. it was with the sweet girl with the gentle eyes sitting next to him. “i’m sorry,” he says surprising himself, “and i know i say that a lot…but i am sorry. for everything. for ditching decathlon, for leaving you at the dance. for everything.” for her father. for what he did to her family. even if he didn’t mean to. he thinks about mr. toomes more than he admits to Tony. he thinks his mentor suspects. 

liz kisses his cheek and it feels like a goodbye. maybe they needed this, he thinks. closure feels as good. “you should go talk to her.” “yea,” he nods, “i should. its been…weeks, though.” “you’ve got now,” liz says gently, “and that’s all you can have.” 

they spend the rest of the night talking. and whatever left over feelings he might have had for liz melt away. because knowing her, knowing her beyond the pedestal he put her on, makes everything so much clearer. she’s great. but so not for him. 

he needs his albeit it somewhat grumpy, brilliant best friend. he needs her challenge, her spirit. her smile. her random trivia on the diamond industry and its cruelty. everything. 

the next day he finds MJ in her favorite cafe. its more a library with coffee than an actual cafe but its so MJ it hurts. the books are worn and tattered. and he can hear MJ’s voice in his head saying that these books are used, they’re loved. they’ve lived. 

and he wants that for them. he wants to live like these books. 

he sits across from her in her reading nook. he doesn’t wait before he starts speaking, “why don’t you talk to me anymore?” she startles, narrows her eyes and replies, “i talk to you, parker. like right now. see?” “don’t fuck with me, MJ,” he says stronger, “you know what i mean.”

his words make it hard for her to look away. whenever he straightens his spine and talks up at her like an equal it always catches her attention. he demands her respect. and damn him, he has it. “i don’t know what you mean, loser.” 

“i thought we meant more to each other than radio silence.” “the summer is over, peter.” “we were friends before the summer, MJ.” “and we’re still friends.” “i thought,” and he channels liz, live for the moment, “i thought we were more.” 

and MJ scoffs, “you never….you….don’t act like….oh shut up.” “why?” he challenges, “i’m trying to figure it out, MJ. i’m trying to figure out what happened between us. we felt so close.” “you were literally with liz last night.” 

and it all clicks. the last few weeks. the end of the summer. her pulling away. all of it. 

peter stands, pulls down his shirt indignantly, “i was with liz to talk about you. because you’ve been ignoring me. because i like you. okay? find me once you’ve worked this out, MJ. the cold shoulder sucks, fyi.” 

MJ spends the whole night playing over the last month or so over and over and over again in her head. that line they were teetering on feels more and more real the more she thinks about it. and she was right. it wasn’t one sided. but she’d let liz’s appearance shake her unshakeable confidence. because peter parker made her damn vulnerable. fuck him. he was so wonderful. and it was a problem for her. 

the next day, she sits next to him in chem and she sees the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. 

“don’t make a big deal out of this,” she chides him. his hand finds her under the lab table and they tangle their fingers. he smiles even bigger. “what did i say?” she mumbles. “yea, yea,” he squeezes her fingers, “i heard you.” 

they talk about it after school. and there is a bit of an argument. which ends in their first kiss. because she is talking so much and peter is O V E R it. he gets a string of curse words for his presumptuous move. which ends in their second kiss because MJ wants to stop talking of her violation this time. 

when she sees Liz three weeks later, its with Peter on her arm and she feels her face heat up but she’s so glad no one can tell she’s blushing. Liz smirks, “alright, MJ?” “i got there, okay?” “with a little push,” peter nudges her. she knocks him back, “i got there, though. gimme some credit.”