#don’t forget if I see you out on that field I’ll kill you and idk if I’ll feel bad about it at all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nightowlwriting · 3 years

Text

summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

483 notes · View notes

phoebe-delia · 3 years

Note

Has anyone asked for song #1 yet? I'm very curious which song you're listening to most.

I really enjoy your writing in combination with the song prompts! Thank you for sharing it with the world!

Hello darling! Thank you for this ask. As a matter of fact, no one has requested 1!

My number 1 song is the explicit version of "Potential Breakup Song" by Aly and AJ.

I know, I thought it would be a Taylor Swift song, too! I will say, this playlist was from Apple Music and I recently started using Spotify more so idk if this is still accurate for my current No. 1 song, but it's still a bop.

This is a bit of a challenge, but I figure if I can write a fic based on "Yeah!" by Usher, I can give this a try. This fic will be *mostly* funny and fluffy but there's some angst with a happy ending.

5 Times Draco Almost Broke Up With Harry

"Tell me something," Draco said shyly, tracing patterns into Harry's bare arm. Sunlight streamed into the living room, dust motes dancing in the rays.

"What do you mean?"

"Something I don't already know about you."

"Like what?"

Draco's expression turned exasperated. "I don't know, Harry, that's rather the point."

"Right...er, okay, here's something you don't know about me. I don't like whipped cream."

Draco looked at him, startled. "You don't?"

"Er, no. I also don't like marshmallows or--"

"What?"

"Or avocado, or eggs."

Draco sputtered. "What is wrong with you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Merlin, here we go."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Every time I tell people the foods I don't like, they get all indignant and huffy," Harry waved a hand. "It's so weird. Like I've offended them by disliking meringue."

"You don't like meringue?! That's it, I'm breaking up with you."

Harry groaned. "I regret this. I regret everything. Just--forget it."

Draco sighed. "No, no I'm sorry. In my exaggerated teasing, I see how I might've struck a nerve."

"It's fine--I'm just tired of people taking my food preferences as a personal insult."

"I take everything you do as a personal insult."

Harry just chuckled. "That you do, Draco, that you do."

"POTTER!!"

"WHAT?"

"GET IN HERE!"

"WHERE'S 'HERE'?"

"TAKE A WILD GUESS, AUROR POTTER!"

....

"Ah, good to see that your tracking skills aren't too hopeless. Now, care to tell me what's wrong with this picture?"

"Er...you're angry?"

"Yes, I am angry--and the reason for that is obvious if you merely look around the room and see if you can identify what might be bothering me."

"You get really formal when you're upset."

"Potter--"

"And you call me Potter."

"If only you would use your powers of observation for discovering the cause and not the symptoms of my frustration, this conversation would be over."

...

"Is it my socks?"

"Your socks, your pants, your shirt, your trousers--all in a heap in the closet."

"So? I haven't done laundry in a while."

"Potter, you do realize there are laundry spells, don't you? So that dirty clothes don't stink up one's closet?"

"...No?"

Sigh. "Alright, I suppose I won't move out this time."

"Oh, what a relief."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Never. Especially not toward you, baby."

"I should hope not. Now, c'mere and let me teach you the spell."

"I can't believe you'd betray me like this." Draco shook his head mournfully, bits of snow falling from the top of his warm hat. "I trusted you."

Harry scoffed. His breath fogged in the air. "I told you this was happening today. It's not my fault you weren't listening."

"Asking me post-coital if I'd like to attend the Weasley Family Brunch is Slytherin-level manipulation."

"Did I ever tell you the Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin?"

"What?" Draco stopped walking, turning to Harry in shock.

"Yeah. Told me I'd do well. But you'd been such an arse to Ron that I begged it to sort me anywhere else."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course. Honestly, I did you a favor. You were practically made for Gryffindor."

"Who knows? Maybe we'd have been friends back then."

Draco glared and Harry snickered.

"You know, Potter, between your little jokes and this stunt you pulled, I'm one insult away from Apparating on the spot and leaving you here."

Harry smiled fondly. Taking Draco's hand, he led them toward the Burrow, its warm light a welcome destination in the icy weather.

"Nah, you won't, you know why?"

"Why?"

Harry smirked. "Because then we won't get to be post-coital together."

Draco scowled. Harry laughed.

"Don't say a word."

"Can I just--"

"Harry."

"But I--"

"Potter. Shut up.

...

"Draco I'm sorry--"

"Harry, what is the one thing I asked you to do when you became an Auror?"

"...Don't be stupid."

"Yes. I asked you not to do anything stupid. I asked you not to impulsively put yourself in harm's way."

"Draco it's my job to protect my partner, and--"

"You don't think I understand that? Of course I do! I can't fault you for being a loyal partner, Harry, but running into a hostage situation without calling for backup is the absolute dumbest thing you could've done! You nearly died!"

"But I didn't! And the case is over now."

"You were in St. Mungos for nearly a week! Do you know how agonizing it was to see you like that? Do you--" Draco's voice cracked and he cut himself off, turning away from Harry.

Harry's heart clenched. He walked up to Draco and wrapped strong arms around him from behind, expecting to be pushed away. Instead, Draco leaned into the touch.

"I know your job has its risks, Harry, but the least you can do is not create them for yourself. You said the Sorting Hat nearly put you in Slytherin; some self-preservation would be good for you."

Harry sighed, nuzzling Draco's neck. "Okay. I'll try."

Draco turned in his arms, looking at Harry with wet eyes. "Good. The last thing I want to do is break up with you, but I couldn't handle it if I lost you any other way, I--" The tears spilled at that. Draco's face flushed in embarrassment, in anguish.

Harry's chest constricted. He pulled Draco close to himself and stroked his hair, letting the other man cry his fears into his shirt.

"I won't let it happen, Draco. I promise."

Draco nodded, his cheek brushing Harry's shirt.

Harry smiled. They'd be okay.

Draco was going to kill Harry.

He was going to break up with him, and then kill him, and then revive him just to break up with him once more.

He cast a Tempus. 8:20.

Over an hour. Over an hour he'd been waiting for Harry to return home. He was beginning to get hot in his tailored suit, despite the cooling charms.

He hadn't heard anything. No Owl, no Floo, no nothing. Either Harry had no respect for decorum or...

Nope. Draco couldn't go there, wouldn't. Harry promised and he always kept his promises.

Suddenly, the Floo roared to life, making Draco jump. Harry stumbled through with a panicked expression on his face, dusting the Floo powder from his formal robes.

"Draco! Merlin, I'm so sorry, I thought I had time and then everything got all screwed up and I got here as fast as I could."

Draco sighed. "It's fine, Harry, let's just order takeaway."

"Why?"

"Well, we missed our reservation. Cerise won't wait for more than thirty minutes."

Harry pursed his lips. "What if I had something else in mind?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

With a smirk, Harry tossed him a hairbrush, which Draco caught with Seeker instinct.

"Harry wh--" His eyes widened as he felt the pull of a portkey, the sound of Harry's amused laughter echoing behind him.

He landed with a thud on a balcony. After a crack, Harry appeared next to him, gasping to catch his breath for a moment.

"Potter, what the fuck?"

Harry chuckled. "Surprise! Look around, Draco."

Draco's breath caught as he finally took in his surroundings. They were standing on a balcony in Paris, confirmed by the sight of La Tour Eiffel in the distance. The lights of the city twinkled like stars below them. On the balcony were two chairs and a small table with hot food under a stasis charm. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat ready for them. Draco checked the label and confirmed with a gasp that it was a 1989 Chateau Lafleur.

"Harry, I--" Draco turned around but was startled into silence at the sight of Harry on his knee, a hopeful smile on his face and a small black box in his hand.

Draco's eyes went wide. "What?" He breathed.

Harry bit his lip. "Draco, I'm sorry I don't like whipped cream. I'm sorry I forget to do laundry, and that I dragged you to Sunday dinner. I'm sorry that I worry you sometimes because my job is dangerous. I'm sorry I run late to our dates sometimes.

But I promise to give you the avocado from my sandwich. I promise to try to remember the spells you taught me, and to use my manipulative powers for good and not evil. I promise I'll use better judgment in the field. And I promise I'll try to be on time for our dates.

And I promise to do all of this for as long as I can, as long as you let me. And if you do--if you promise to love me for the rest of our lives--I promise to do the same. Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?"

Draco let out a delighted, euphoric laugh. "Yes, yes of course I'll marry you!"

Harry grinned and rose from his knee to pull Draco into a nearly bruising kiss. When they pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together and looked as Harry slid the ring, a simple silver band with tiny emeralds, onto Draco's finger.

As they ate dinner, looking out over the city, Harry gave him a cheeky grin. "So, tell me, how'd I do?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "With tonight? The proposal?"

"Yeah, what'd you think? I hope it made up for me being late. I'm sure you were about ten minutes from breaking up with me," Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco shook his head and smirked. "No, Harry," he raised the glass of wine to his lips. "I'd never do that."

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #drarry squad #kinda flangsty #potential breakup song #5 things #5 things fic

182 notes · View notes

yourfriendlyenby · 3 years

Text

New Hermitcraft reaction as I type (Tango)

Once again skipping the intro because yes

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

“You got meat in your hands?!” phrasing

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

Not Tango begging in front of a literal knight for a bit of food like a medieval peasant or something idk I’ve never lived at that time

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

“Fields of meat!” PHRASING

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

“This is the worst start to a world ever”

Oh come on it can’t be that ba-

“Yeah let’s just jump off a mountain!”

TANGO

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

Alright just pillaging the homes of poor innocent villagers so you can kill them and revive them again and then kill them and revive them again and then kill them and revive them again and then kill them and revive them again alright alright love to see it

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

I thought for a second Tango said “pogger” when Stress jumped off but like what the hell did he say-

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

“I’m in two hearts by the way totally fine” Tango says, at a ledge, with one wrong step meaning either lava or fall damage

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

Welp you heard it hear folks, Tango isn’t a fire elemental he would’ve just melted the snow instead of just drowning in it /j

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

Tango, drowning in powdered snow: HELP The other hermits: *break him out* Tango: Oh thank god I saw the light flash before my- *immediately falls into more powdered snow*

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

Tango: Hey can I have those bees? Mumbo: Yeah sure just give me 8 iron Tango: Alright I have 7 is that okay I’ll have 7/8 of a bee Mumbo okay

*not even two fcking seconds later*

Tango: Hey do you have two iron so I can shear this bee hive?

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

Mumbo: Alright what do you have? Tango: Uhhhh potato, 4 snowballs and my hopes and dreams Mumbo: Alright that sounds good *gives iron* Mumbo after Tango crafted the shears: WHERE IS THE POTATO AND 4 SNOWBALLS?!

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

Tango: If I shear this without putting a campfire under it won’t they kill me? Me: Tango I swear to god Mumbo: Just go for it Me: MUMBO DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM Grian: *just fckin destroys the beehive* Tango: *tries to shear Grian after that* Me: ...honestly what else was I expecting from the hermits

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

Mumbo: If you want me to kill him I am absolutely fine with that but I need food Tango: uhhh I have 2 steak Mumbo, finally remembering what it was like to kill after killing Scar: GRIAN YOU’RE GETTING IT

I love them

Mumbo: Tango I’m sorry I failed

yup love them

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

“Are we at the murdering stage is this what’s happening?” Tango I believe that stage crossed a long time ago

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

“First thing I need is 120 honey blocks”

You need what

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

“I just need to shear with the honey combs-”

Tango are you really going to shear that without a campfire because I see no campfire in your hotbar

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

Okay he had a campfire thank god

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

“Are you discussing my face?” Zedaph hon I’m sorry but you look like an amog- *gets shot and dies*

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

Not Tango forgetting to grab jungle wood for cocoa beans-

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

“I’m your neighbor now” Why is that so threatening I-

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

A bee just appeared in Tango’s bee farm

It’s actually secretly a fae or something jkjk

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

Me: *sees Impulse holding an amethyst block* Impulse I swear to god don’t eat that

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

Okay I thought for a sec Wels was just gonna give Tango an efficiency V unbreaking III silk touch pick like damn son you flaunt around in netherite armor on the first day once and all of the sudden you’re king of the world aight jkjk

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

“I’ll just follow you around like a creepy person” you say that Wels but that’s how I am with any of my friends ever

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

“Plan Bee Apiary” Sorry Tango but when you said ‘Plan B’ my mind thought of like planned parenthood or something

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

“‘Tango, Tango save me I’m dying to snow!’ I mean seriously can you imagine falling in snow” alright Tango let’s roll that clip back like 10 minutes ago

“I think I’ve fallen in the same snow Zedaph fell in”

Tango-

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

ZEDAPH’S JUST FALLING DEEPER AND DEEPER IN SNOW WHILE TANGO’S TRYING TO SHOVEL HIM OUT HELP MY LUNGS-

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

TANGO JUST PUNCHED ZEDAPH BACK INTO HIS SNOWGRAVE I CAN’T-

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

“IT’S SO DEEP!” that is what they have said

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

Loving the treehouse thing, weird coinkydink actually I drew a treehouse thing a bit ago and now I’ve seen like two hermits

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

“Sorry for the long break”

Me who was catching up on season 8 the entire time: you don’t gotta apologize for anything honey-

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft season 9 #hermitcraft season 9 spoilers #tangotek

10 notes · View notes

thejudgingtrash · 3 years

Note

Can you explain to me how Rachel was annoying in the series?

Well, I’ll try to keep myself short for this one (lol no, this took an hour to write). Also, let’s not forget that they’re all kids, but I’m basing this off from when I read the series as a fourteen year old because my opinions haven’t changed much (for better or for worse).

I’m not the biggest fan of Rachel. I have to admit that portrayals of her by Simi, Kit, Logan, Apollo and all the others helped to shape her into something cooler than what she had been in my foggy memories but I actually went back to take a look in the books (well, TTC + BOTL so far) to refreshen my mind about events that have happened.

Also, you should browse through @blackjacktheboss's blog as she’s a) hilarious and b) says whatever I say in like a single sentence lol. But your ask is about me and my opinions so here we go:

What I didn’t like about Rachel was that she’s rude and bold (DON’T GET ME WRONG, I love that in female characters!!!), but she doesn’t have Annabeth’s excuse of survival of the fittest (literally running off as a traumatized seven year old) and introducing us into the world of the Riordanverse.

Percy was on his way, had shit to deal with and Rachel pretty much interrupted him from the get-go and thought getting her answers was more important than letting Percy just rush forward. Yes, this is Rachel’s entrance into the series and the net Riordan threw into the sea, to make us little fish adapt to her. But it still didn’t sit right with me, probably because I would never interact that way.

I get why she did that, but it’s the way how she did it that’s just making me go ???

Even if I was seeing weird things, I wouldn’t set out to distract/interrupt someone who is incredibly busy to get my way. Rachel’s dick move seems like a Karen boomer type of thing to pull off, but guess that’s up to you.

If I were her, I’d either film/try to photograph the monsters via phone (if that’s possible) or internet stalk enough to find the other person (note: despite Riordan’s stupid rule of not being able to use phones, demigods still can use computers/the internet, I guess). Percy was national news like a year or two ago in the timeline, so it shouldn’t be that difficult to find more stuff out about him, even in like 2008 or so. Let him have a spot on Perez Hilton's shitty gossip blog, for the OGs reading this.

Annabeth was used as a tool of exposition to introduce us to CHB, the demigod life and how things roll around there. She barged into Percy’s mission as a nuisance first but a necessity second in TLT.

However, in comparison to Rachel, Annabeth was transformed into a fully-fledged protagonist within a span of a chapter or two. Rachel needed another separate book after her first appearance, so we don’t just know Annabeth better, we know that she’s an important constant throughout the story as of Rachel seems… almost random? Is she truly necessary as a character?

This doesn’t come from a shipper perspective, this is coming from a character design perspective and adds to the feeling that the way she has been introduced to me as a reader just seems off.

Yes, BOTL makes sense with her as a reborn Ariadne, but technically Sally could’ve done the job as she’s a clear-sighted mortal as well lol. Then again, Sally is an adult, went to college, had a job, was unfortunately probably working it up with Paul, did the cha cha slide with him and had overall better shit to do.

Then Rachel as the oracle, which is just super weird in general. Wasn’t Apollo himself responsible for issuing prophecies in the OG myths? Or did he both, have the oracle of Delphi as his spokesperson and issue important stuff to Team Olympus? Am I mixing things up? I’m getting sidetracked, my bad.

Either way, this oracle gig might be the only time I’d say Rachel might be important in the future (badum tzz), but Riordan fumbled the bag in the follow ups series so there’s that. Did she even appear in HOO? Can’t remember and also don’t care.

Rachel is used as one out of three choices in regard to his love life that Percy can make. Calypso literally got introduced into BOTL and was admittedly Percy’s biggest what if… But the general gist doesn’t sit right with me. We have three possible routes with Percy and the others:

Rachel: somewhat normality in the mortal realm

Annabeth: the danger and thrill of the demigod life

Calypso: ambrosia and nectar. a hint of immortality

(On one hand, literally why but on the other hand, mad props for Percy who has literally three romantic leads in the same book.) I’d cancel one of them at least out and since Annabeth isn’t going anywhere, I’m taking Rachel. Sally could literally been Percy’s anchor to a normal mortal life as she had intended until it didn’t work out anymore when he became twelve and his monster alerting scent grew stronger.

Calypso and Annabeth would’ve been the perfect opposites where each of them had a strong case. The demigod life within the realms or mortal or the demigod life ascending to Olympus/immortality. Sounds cooler and is way simpler. Three people is way too much, this truly feels like a shonen anime harem thing and it’s defo not my cup of tea (and while some Annabeth sideships aren’t my thing (Lukabeth go cry in the corner, no one likes you, WTF, Connabeth you fugly), it’s super unfair that Annabeth solely has Percy (fuck off Luke) to rely on in regards of romantic endeavors).

Rachel almost feels redundant? The option to walk away from all of that… which isn’t really true as Rachel really tries to push and insert herself into the story the very first time we meet her? But that’s just me, I’m certain that others are saying they’d kill off Annabeth or kick Calypso (I mean yeah) into the curb.

Big ALSO:

Why does Percy need another white and uber-rich love interest?

I semi-joked on Dez’ post (@sawasawako) with this response about Annabeth needing to keep up with powerful Rachel, but the core still stands.

We already have an affluent Annabeth (granted, we don’t know exactly how the Chase’s riches are divided, whereas it’s clear that Rachel can just make anyone drop dead by saying who she is. Annabeth needed that weird lotus casino credit card to make that happen, so Miss Harvard Legacy doesn’t wield that Dare schmoney. Also don’t think Annabeth can just up papa’s money and go…? Idk).

Why do we need another person needing to upstage this?

Like Rachel has to triumph in regards to standard and prestige as if it were a badly written Jane Austen AU. For what reason…? Why not make Percy friends and acquaintances with someone who comes from a normal household for once, not super rich brats (Piper, Annabeth, Rachel, technically the Graces with their TV starlet mother amongst others).

Moreover…

Important question: why should Percy actually be impressed/attracted to that? He’s dirt poor and has been sent to (boarding) schools filled with stupid rich people since he’s been twelve, probably even younger than that. As if that’s the very first thing Percy would look out for or be wowed or something. He’s used to rich douchebags. I think he’s more surprised that someone used their money for his benefit for once and not to crash daddy’s new Mercedes again.

Like seriously… Rachel did that weird art project thing in BOTL with her covered in gold and posing like it’s a super normal thing to do? Even for rich snobbish kids standards? That sounds weird to me. I don’t know, maybe Riordan’s been streaming the new Gossip Girl reboot on HBO Max on repeat and thought this girl is on fiyah (performed by Alicia Keys).

Rachel trying to separate herself from her money just comes off as super hypocritical when she’s using the very same funds to finance her lifestyle. I get it, trying to make amends and make a difference with the damage you have done but... your father still doesn't give a shit about the environment or YOU, sweetie. Kick him in the balls for once! Then you can go out about your art projects.

The concept of Percy having friends in the mortal realm is cool, but why does Rachel almost have to compete with Annabeth with her wealth and art stuff?

No seriously, the comparisons are constantly there, out and about. Roaming freely on the finest grass, needing to be feed delicious locally sourced carrots and stuff.

Annabeth is Athena’s kid. Athena is the goddess of wisdom, weaving, justice, warfare yada yada and arts and crafts. So definitely something which would affect Rachel, right (someone write that Athena messing with Rachel because she can AU and tag me please!)?

Annabeth wants to become an architect which translates to fancy building designer who is driving engineers like Leonardo Eugenio Valdez Cortes insane irl because the maths and physics don't work like that in the working field trust me I'm an engineer, which could/should be considered an art form.

They even shared some common ground while talking about architecture and design in BOTL!

Furthermore, they both share broken homes with absent parents (granted that all demigods go through that). Wealthy families at that as well. Shitty fathers that don’t care about their daughters well-being. Rachel however, is super powerful and influential in an unseen level in the mortal world. She isn’t like Matt Sloan (?) who truly messes up by destroying shit to get his father's attention, but she’s still in that circle and can easily demonstrate that. Making deals with her father and what not. We rarely see Annabeth doing that. Did y’all forget the fucking helicopter Rachel brought along in TLO?

Pan saying Rachel is just as important as her father has multiple meanings to me…

(Sidenote: I do think it’s hilarious that Annabeth is jealous/annoyed of Rachel that her remarks were she’s cute right and Percy went??? Or when Tyson said Rachel’s pretty? Or that time when Annabeth actually defended Luke and his weird behavior (because Kronos was slowly taking over, don’t forget that kids!), because f that rich artist nepotism kid that Rachel seems to be, right?)

Another note: Percy thinks Rachel is annoying in BOTL for a while and it took a while for him to admit that and he spent way more time being annoyed/jealous (for once, Lordy) at Luke for him to even notice lol.

I guess it’s really hard for me to exactly pinpoint what’s bothering me. I believe Rachel's persona just doesn’t seem to hit right, because it feels like a knock-off Annabeth who just simply isn’t a demigod, yet has two cool powers, but in even richer who still needs to be part of the story for exactly what reason?

The jumping around from the richest in the series to the poorest in the series is kinda bothering me as if the middle class doesn’t exist, like I’ve stated earlier. Why didn’t Riordan mix it up with Rachel, giving her more nuance the minute they met, not towards the end? Have her be Percy’s platonic friend from the get go. No weird oh wait she is kinda cute in the middle bullshit.

This kinda drifted more into a Perachel vs Percabeth essay, which really wasn’t my intention. Don’t worry kids, I’m criticizing Annabeth (and her stans) enough already.

And I do think that others in the fandom have softened my views on Rachel as a person like I’ve stated in the beginning. So friendship!Perachel is popping! But I do think that there are some valid points that I’ve made.

Also not gonna lie, Rachel issuing the new prophecy in TLO kinda dampened the end of PJO series but that’s more Riordan’s fault than hers.

TLDR: I’m just not a huge fan of this overbearing, uber-rich, excessively flaunting being that Rachel sometimes displays. She’s flawed, she’s broken at times, has a semi-interesting background story (although it has been done over and over again throughout the series and should be changed up for once) which is great, but it is still annoying.

We don’t need an anti-Annabeth who feels like a weird caricature of the real Annabeth.

Also if this seems super incoherent, repetitive, or whatever, I'm sorry, massive headaches + mental health going down the goo lagoon does this to ya, I hope I made somewhat sense!

#Mel answers #pjo #percy jackson #rachel elizabeth dare #rachel dare #Annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo Meta #percy jackson and the olympians #pjato #ttc #botl #tlo

42 notes · View notes

goldnratio · 4 years

Text

Inconvenient Interruptions (Spencer Reid x reader)

Summary: the team has to catch an unsub at a nightclub. spencer is paired up with female reader. they flirt, dance, and confess some feelings.

Warnings: briefly mentioned killings, some touching and kissing, microscopic teen wolf and beetlejuice references, a little ooc Spencer I think, and some guns at the end

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I’m thinking of doing a part 2 that’s smut but idk yet,,, this is a hot mess but enjoy :))

—

Going undercover wasn’t so bad, you’d done it plenty of times while working for the BAU. Usually you’d go by yourself - with the rest of the team and local cops outside - or with a partner, and that sometimes meant you’d portray friends or lovers. Having been paired up with everyone on the team at least once, you’d probably say that you preferred pairing up with Spencer Reid. You were comfortable with the whole team, but you felt different with Spencer. You liked him, and you only hoped he felt the same. If not, then all the casual flirting back and forth would have just gone waste.

This case involved another serial killer, identified as forty-one year old Adam Raeken, that was going around Los Angeles, California and preying on all types of young couples. He seemed to have favored night clubs; abducting a couple from one club, and disposing their bodies somewhere near a different club. So far, he managed to abduct and kill six different couples without getting caught, and your team was hoping to catch him before he got a seventh.

After learning when and where Adam would strike next - around 9:30 PM at a club a few miles from the LA police station called ‘Dante’s Inferno’ - every available unit was going to be deployed.

Turned out, ‘Dante’s Inferno’ was a pretty big club, both in size and popularity. In an effort to try and catch Adam without causing a mass panic, every officer and agent was to go in plain clothes, along with the law enforcement waiting outside.

Even though the informant gave a rough time estimate, the team got there when the bar first opened at 8:00 PM to keep tabs on everyone who walked into the club.

—

Hotch made you and Spencer partners, assigning you the task of focusing on scoping the bar area for Adam.

You’d chosen a short, red bodycon dress that hugged your curves with matching heels and a loaded gun in your bag, acting coy with Spencer while you all waited for Adam to show up.

“What’s a girl like you, doing in a place like this?” Spencer said as he got comfortable in the bar seat next to you.

You take a sip from your non-alcoholic beverage and grin, “You use that opener with all the ladies?”

“Just the gorgeous ones.”

“Well to answer your question, I’m looking for someone.” Your smile feigns innocence, except Spencer can see the humor in your eyes.

“Really? A pretty girl looking for someone? I would’ve guessed someone here would be looking for you.”

“Most days, but tonight is special. He’s unique.” You wink at Spencer and he laughs.

“I’m sure he is. With a woman like you after him, he’s a lucky guy.”

You sigh dramatically. “That depends on if I find him tonight,” you take another sip from your drink, “if not, I’ll have to go home all by myself.”

“Oh please, I’m sure any man in here -“

Static coming from your earpieces interrupts him.

“Reid, (Y/L/N), if you could focus on the case, please.”

“Sorry, Hotch,” you blush, looking away from Spencer.

“Yeah, sorry, Hotch,” Spencer cleared his throat, “we’ll focus.”

“You can flirt off the clock after we’ve caught Raeken,” Emily teased.

You saw her down at the end of the bar with JJ and stuck your tongue out at her. JJ tries not to laugh as Emily fake gags.

“Ladies, if you can keep it together for the rest of the night, you can have your pick of a wine bottle from my cellar,” Rossi chuckled.

“Got it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You bet.”

No one saw, but Hotch rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

You quickly scanned the other people at the bar and a portion of the dance floor, making sure Adam hasn’t showed up early.

Your attention directs back to Spencer when he puts a shy hand on your waist and leaned in close to your side without the earpiece and microphone, so close that you felt his hair tickle and his breath hot on your skin.

“You know, we were ordered to come in plain clothes.”

Two can play this game, you thought.

Placing one hand on the back of his neck to play with his curls and the other on his bicep, you lean forward towards his earpiece-less side. “Plain clothes just means ‘not a uniform.’ This look like a uniform to you?” You softly squeeze his bicep, sitting up and taking another sip from your beverage.

Spencer simply shakes his head and smirks. “I just realized I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress.”

“I don’t think a dress, much less one like this, would be...appropriate…in the field.”

“I think I could imagine a few places it would be appropriate,” Spencer countered.

“Yeah?” You hum, “like where—“

“Alright it’s nine o’clock. Make sure you are on alert in the next twenty-five minutes so that we’re ready if he sticks to the time,” Hotch interrupts.

A series of ‘okay’s’ are heard in your earpiece.

“and (Y/L/N), Reid? Just because you’re not talking into the earpieces, doesn’t mean we can’t hear you.”

This time, it’s a series of your teammates’ laughs in your ear.

“Right, sorry...again,” Spencer answered.

You gave a small laugh and issued your second apology as Spencer excused himself to use the restroom.

—

As soon as he got in the restroom, Spencer took out his earpiece. Right before he walked into a stall, the restroom door opened and revealed none other than SSA Derek Morgan, who also took out his earpiece.

“Reid, my man!” Derek clapped his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Who knew you had that kinda game in you, buddy?”

“Oh my god, Derek, please don’t do this now,” Spencer deadpanned.

“Do what?”

Spencer can’t help but give him the ‘seriously?’ look.

Derek smiled. “Look, kid. All I’m going to say is that it��s obvious you’re both into each other, you should go for it.”

“That’s just it, I don’t know if she really likes me or it’s just the friendly flirting or the fact that we’re technically undercover right now!”

“Kid, I’ve gone undercover with (Y/N) before, and trust me when I say that her flirting with you is real. And I’m sure you’ve noticed that she doesn’t ‘friendly flirt’ with anyone else other than you.”

Spencer sighs. “You really think she’s into me?”

“Of course I do. You’re a great guy, Reid. You two deserve each other.”

“Thanks, Derek...but is that it because I came in here to actually use the restroom.”

“Oh,” Derek laughs, “my bad, Reid. I just came in to wash my hands but I’ll let you get to your business.”

“Right...see you out there.”

—

When Spencer made his way back to the bar, the last thing he expected to see was a man trying to hit on you. He walked a little faster to you and noticed how your eyes lit up when he got there.

“Oh look! Here he is!”

The mystery guy looked at Spencer, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of this man making a move on you while he wasn’t there.

“Who are you?” He asked Spencer in a bitter tone.

Spencer took a step closer to you and put an arm around your shoulders, “Her boyfriend.”

Luckily the man got the hint and left, and Spencer’s arm loosened up on your shoulders.

“Sorry I left, I didn’t think anything would happen in such a short time.”

Reaching for one of his hands and you give it a quick squeeze. “It’s not your fault, and um, thank you.”

“No problem.”

You both sit in silence - as much silence that’s possible at a crowded club with music that’s blaring, until you hear a familiar beat. You glance at your watch, it's almost 9:10 PM and you realize there’s time to have some fun.

“Hey,” you look up at Spencer, “you wanna dance?”

His instincts almost kick in to say no. But then Derek’s restroom advice is ringing in his head, ‘you should go for it.’

He gives you a hesitant smile, “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Okay, just a sec.” You reach for your earpiece. “Hey guys? Spence and I are gonna scope out the dance floor.”

“You sure you’re not going just to dance with Pretty Ricky?”

Spencer blushed.

“Yes, Derek. We are also going to dance, we have to blend in.”

“Just stay focused,” Hotch reminds you.

With Hotch’s semi-blessing, you grab Spencer’s hand and lead him to the middle of the dance floor.

At first, Spencer is a little stiff, but you’re patient with him as he tries to find a rhythm that works for him. In any other circumstance, Spencer would’ve lost his mind trying to dance to music so loud that he can feel it in his bones while surrounded by sweaty bodies. He can only tolerate it because you’re with him.

Only because it’s his large hands that have a tight grip on your hips.

Only because it’s his long fingers dangerously close to the curve of your ass.

Only because it’s your hands in his hair.

Only because it’s his eyes your gaze is burning into.

Only because it’s your body moving in sync with his.

The upbeat music lasted a few good songs, but the music transitioned into something slower. It sounds like R&B, but you lose focus with how Spencer’s hands feel on your lower back, practically burning through your dress. And how good he smells. And how handsome he looks in the club’s colorful lighting. You almost forget why you’re in the club in the first place.

Your hands are on his shoulders, slowly traveling to the back of his head to thread your fingers in his hair as he leans forward to bring his face closer to yours. Neither of you say anything while you stare at each other, both too afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing.

You don’t know who leans in first, but you can feel Spencer’s nose brush against yours and his lips are just millimeters away and -

“All agents, I have eyes on the target. I repeat, I have eyes on the target.”

Crap, it was finally 9:30.

You quickly pull apart from each other, despite the disappointment evident in both of your faces.

“Copy that. Where’s he by?” You’re looking around the dance floor but don’t see him.

“Raeken is approaching the bar. Remember to proceed with caution, we want to avoid casualties.”

You double check the dancing crowd to make sure there’s other plain clothed law enforcement, not wanting to leave anything to chance.

“Let’s go get a drink, all this moving made me thirsty.” You kiss Spencer’s cheek, and his face is flushed as he follows you to the bar.

Adam’s already ordering a drink, so you settle a few seats away. To avoid suspicion, you order drinks for yourself and Spencer, but he looks tense and you’re hoping no one notices.

You wrap your arms around Spencer’s neck to get closer so he’ll hear you. “You’re too stiff, follow my lead.”

Moving just a few feet closer to Adam, you purposefully drop your drink, gaining the attention of the people around you.

“Oh no!” you pout.

When Spencer asks the bartender for a rag, he sees Adam staring at you with a dark look in his eyes. Spencer doesn’t like it but he has no choice but to stick to whatever plan you have.

Spencer turns back to you and helps you clean up your spilled drink. Fortunately, the cup was plastic and not glass.

Once the mess is cleaned up, you thank the bartender for the rug and ‘accidentally’ bump into Adam.

“Sorry about that,” you fake giggle.

He smirks at you, his eyes never leaving your body. You fight the urge to arrest him right there.

“No worries, gorgeous.” He takes a sip from his own drink as you walk back to Spencer.

You hug him again, and his hands gravitate towards the middle of your back. “Is Raeken looking?”

Spencer nods.

“Okay, good. Sorry about this in advance.”

That’s when you lean in to kiss him and you lightly push down on his arms. Luckily, Spencer gets the idea and moves his hands to your backside and squeezes. He relishes in the taste of your mouth and the sound of your moan, until you break the kiss.

He has to remind himself how to breathe when you ask him if he wants to get out of there, just loud enough for Adam to hear. You wink at Adam as you walk past him, anticipating him to follow you as you lead Spencer to the club’s exit.

“Hotch, he’s leaving with Reid and (Y/L/N).”

“Start to make your way towards the exit, we’ll catch him outside.”

Some officers stay inside, while the rest of your team is following you three out.

Outside, you’re surrounded by police cars to ensure the serial killer’s capture, who was just a few seconds behind you and Spencer. You quickly throw on some vests you were handed and pull out your gun.

Adam walks out of the club and the look on his face is priceless.

“Adam Raeken, freeze!”

He tries to make a run for it back into the club, but your team is already blocking the entrance, guns pointed straight at him.

In a matter of minutes, Adam is cuffed, being read his Miranda rights, and in the back of a cop car.

Before heading back to the LA precinct, you want to talk with Spencer.

“Hey Spence,” you pull him to the side, “can we talk really quick?”

“Of course, (Y/N).”

You walk away from the crowd of law enforcement and onlookers leaving the club.

“Listen, about the kiss and everything I said at the bar, I’m sorry again for springing that on you. It was completely unprofessional of me and unfair to you.”

Spencer cleared his throat. “No uhh, don’t worry. I’m sorry about what I said at the bar too, but the kiss thing was okay, really, I enjoyed it.”

You giggle and he immediately realizes what he said.

“Wait I didn’t mean that - I mean - Not that I didn’t enjoy it, because to be honest, I did and -“

He’s surprised by the feeling of your lips on his, and he’s already kissing you back before he brain can even process it.

You pull back with a small smile on your face. “Spencer, I like you too.”

He sighs in relief, “Oh good, if not this would’ve been awkward.”

“Totally,” you laugh in agreement, “but um, since the case is over, do you maybe wanna get a cup of coffee or something when we get back?”

“I’d like that, yeah.”

“Okay, great! I guess we can-“

“Hey, Romeo! Juliet!”

Your’s and Spencer’s heads whip to the direction of the voice, belonging to a very smug Derek Morgan.

“You two done over there? Because we’ve got a case to wrap up and a plane home to catch!”

You yell back, “In a minute!”

Spencer’s yelling, “Alright! We’ll be right there!” at the same time.

“We can talk more about this,” you gesture between the two of you with your hands with a grin, “later.”

You’re both wearing smiles on your faces as you walk shoulder-to-shoulder, back to your team, trying not to think about the numerous questions they’re about to ask.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg imagine #alexis writes #dr spencer reid #reid x reader

477 notes · View notes

jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 3 years

Text

You Can Run... (S2, E11)

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode are below. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:03 - Baby!Malcolm and baby!Ainsley playing together is so cute. <3

0:05 - Malcolm is playing with Batman (the hero) and Ainsley is playing with the Joker (the villain). But Ainsley wants to play with Batman. Coincidence? Foreshadowing? I’m torn.

0:20 - ....I can’t tell if this is regular “kid fake crying to get sibling in trouble”, “bad fake crying because kid actors are still just kids who are learning”, or “Ainsley is a psychopath and she’s never been able to cry properly fake crying”.

0:50 - “I’d much rather stay at home with my favourite guy.” UgH. Excuse me while I cry myself to sleep. No wonder Malcolm has so many Daddy issues. This broke my heart. Malcolm clearly idolized Martin. Martin was his hero. :(

1:35 - “Where are you? Talk to me.” This hurts because it makes sense. Malcolm’s one constant in life was his father’s voice. For better or for worse. It reminds me of anxiety disorders/depression. Part of you doesn’t want to heal. You don’t know what to do without the pain and fear. You don’t know who you’d be. The unknown is scarier than the pain and misery. That’s Malcolm right now. He knows Martin is bad for his mental health but he’s afraid to lose Martin because without Martin’s voice Malcolm has no idea who he is.

1:55 - I can’t decide if I love or hate Ruiz. She’s really combative? Like Malcolm didn’t say “You’re here to take over” aggressively. At all. I respect the hell out of her for being a total badass and good at her job....but she’s also kind of verbally aggressive? And pretending she doesn’t know Martin is Malcolm’s father? Like - I know she was probably trying to break the ice but it was really unprofessional and kind of a dick move? IDK something about Ruiz just kind of rubs me the wrong way (no this isn’t sexism. I’m a woman working in a male-dominated field. I respect the hell out of career-driven women. This is purely just something about her personality that bothers me.)

2:41 - Oh yeah. Gil did not like the joke about Ruiz not knowing The Surgeon = Malcolm’s father. Look at Gil. He’s annoyed but he’s also worried af about what that little comment did to his already mentally fragile profiler.

3:22 - Just how many times has Malcolm played that voicemail since the end of 2x10? It looks like Gil’s already heard it. Dani’s probably heard it. How many times did Malcolm listen to it - desperately searching for clues? This is not good for Malcolm’s mental health. He needs a hug - not to listen to his manipulative serial killer father on repeat (although, that’s kind of the show isn’t it?). Also, where’s the “we’re the same” part of the message? Did Malcolm delete the end of the message? Maybe so he doesn’t become a suspect?

3:32 - Look at how utterly furious and concerned Gil is. Guys. Guys. Papa!Gil is BACK. <3 <3 <3 <3 Oh how I’ve missed him. Seriously though, Gil looks absolutely livid (at Martin) because he can see how upset Malcolm is and he knows it’s all Martin’s fault. Plus the concerned looks he keeps shooting at Malcolm? <3 My heart <3

3:39 - “Of course not.” LIAR. I truly believe this episode is an excellent example of a character “knowing something as fact in their heads but feels the opposite way in their hearts”. Malcolm is still a little boy desperate for his father’s love. Problem is, Malcolm is also a highly educated adult man who knows that his father is incapable of truly caring about him.

3:55 - Gil watching Malcolm’s hand shake. <3 I have no words. Gil looks so concerned. We’re getting so close to a full Malcolm breakdown and I’m here for it. If we get a full on intervention and/or hospital scene I will be the happiest person alive.

4:15 - A couple of things 1) look at how Capshaw is glancing around the room when Gil, Malcolm, and Jessica are talking about how Daryl tried to kill Jessica. Capshaw is showing equal amounts of disdain, envy, and guilt. 2) Gil making a joke just to make Jessica and Malcolm smile is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Gil is single handedly, emotionally, holding these two together and it’s the content I’ve been desperate for.

4:42 - <3 <3 My heart is melting. <3 Gil’s little smile when he looks at the picture of baby!Malcolm and baby!Ainsley. Look me in the eyes and tell me Gil isn’t their dad. I’ll fight you.

4:50 - “All the kooks will come out. I know the drill.” Poor Jessica. She’s really been through a lot of crap. :(

4:55 - Did Gil shoot Capshaw that suspicious look because he was about to show blatant physical affection to Jessica or because he suspects Capshaw knows something about Martin? Maybe both?

5:00 - Sooooo Gil and Jessica just flirt openly in front of Malcolm now? ....Look at Malcolm’s reaction to their little moment. That boy has heart eyes. <3 Forget Brightwell - Gillica is the ship I will die on.

5:50 - I promise you. Jessica’s eye roll+huff when Malcolm says he’s going to stay with Capshaw for a minutes is defensive. She’s knows that Malcolm is trying to get information that will help recapture Martin. But right now? She just wants a hug from her son. She wants to keep him in her sight; where she knows he’s safe.

6:12 - soooooo Capshaw is definitely a psychopath and she’s 100% acting in this scene. Look at her. She’s angry but she’s trying to act calm. She’s trying to justify everything she did but it never quite connects. She’s just a little bit....something. Vacant? Insincere? Malcolm seems to believe her though...because she told him exactly what she knew he would sympathize and empathize with...the next two episodes are going to be incredible.

7:00 - Damn. Malcolm looks so destroyed in this scene. He looks scared, sad, angry. This boy is riding an emotional elevator that only goes down. I’m just waiting for it to hit the ground.

7:14 - This is fake. Capshaw’s “crying” here? How completely put together she seems? Fake. She’s trying to act distraught and guilt-ridden but she just seems too put together and angry to make it believable.

7:25 - How much do you want to bet that Capshaw is either 1) after Martin because one of her family members was killed by the Surgeon, 2) some sort of already established serial killer/psychopath who thinks killing the Surgeon will make her a serial killer legend?

7:30 - Malcolm being kind is everything. <3 Ugh. This little cinnamon roll is such a sweetheart. <3

8:12 - I’m on Malcolm’s side. Ainsley can’t think about work? Bullshit. Ainsley is somehow in on this whole thing. Istg.

8:21 - “Dad is out there and I don’t know. I’m just not okay.” ....this whole exchange between Ainsley and Malcolm felt forced? Like Ainsley is really off here. It seems out of character that Ainsley would admit that she’s not okay so calmly. She’s too passionate (generally speaking) to just be this calm right now.

8:24 - Ainsley is way too calm for the daughter of an escaped serial killer. Malcolm looks utterly terrified. Ainsley just looks....indifferent. Sure, maybe she’s processing things different or she’s in some state of shock but I find it unlikely.

8:41 - Awwww. Looks like Gil let a Whitly near his car. <3

8:51 - Awwwww...Malcolm literally jumping into the ambulance is adorable. <3

9:00 - “So it’s official. The Surgeon’s killing again.” THE LOOK. The look that JT, Dani, and Gil exchange everything to me. It’s concern. For Malcolm. For what they know this is doing to him. It’s fear. For what may happen next.

9:19 - “Dude.” Some people think JT is being a dick to Malcolm here. I disagree. Sure, it’s not what Malcolm wanted (or needed) to hear. BUT the way I interpreted that ‘dude’: JT is concerned about Malcolm. JT knows that Malcolm is having a hard time right now and JT is worried that Malcolm is reverting back to ‘scared little boy who doesn’t want to believe his dad is a killer’ instead of his usual ‘profiler-mode’. I don’t think JT is upset with Malcolm. I think this is JT acting like Malcolm’s big brother.

9:26 - “I’m not saying I believe it. But I’m sure he believes it.” Gil isn’t buying that. Look at his face. Gil knows Malcolm is struggling to separate his complex feelings about Martin ‘Dad’ Whitly and Matrin ‘the Surgeon’ Whitly.

9:33 - Again. The phrasing here may have been a little blunt but I think this is JT trying to remind Malcolm that his dad is a monster who doesn’t love him. It’s not a pleasant thing but it is a reminder that Malcolm needed to continue working the case effectively.

9:38 - JT and Dani exchanging looks of concern when Malcolm raises his voice (and again when Gil sends them to canvas the area for missing cars) <3 WHERE IS MY INTERVENTION?!!? <3

10:01 - “You think I’ve lost it.” :( This breaks my heart. It’s not enough that Malcolm has been on a downward mental health spiral this whole season. Now, Martin escapes and Malcolm is so fragile that he can’t tell the difference between concern and disapproval. He genuinely can’t see that Gil, Dani, and JT are concerned about him. He’s interpreting their concern as distrust and disapproval. :(

10:30 - .....where’s Gil’s car? Did he leave it with Dani and JT?

10:45 - “He lived here with my mother before I was born.” Excuse me? What? My brain is short circuiting. I want more details. I find this information utterly fascinating. Were Jessica’s parents alive? Is it a Milton family home or did Jessica and/or Martin buy it themselves?

10:51 - “If my father was a serial killer I may have fortified my house a little better.” .....no. This felt wrong. I don’t like that Gil said this. Why would Malcolm fortify the house more? Martin was literally chained to a wall. PLUS Gil’s been to Malcolm’s place before. If Gil (the cop) was concerned about safety he would’ve said something to Malcolm about it before now.

11:44 - I want to punch that US Marshall in the face. Don’t you dare suggest that Malcolm should’ve seen this coming or that he has anything to do with Martin’s escape. I also love this interaction. It really shows the story of Malcolm’s life: his colleagues don’t trust him because of who his father is. Malcolm’s skill is never enough for the cops/FBI/law enforcement to trust him because Martin is a serial killer. Shouldn’t it count for something that Malcolm is the one who turned Martin over to the cops AS A 10 YEAR OLD? ALSO - WTF did Malcolm have ammo for his antique weapons??!?!?

11:54 - Look at Dani and JT. They look ashamed and concerned. Almost as if they just realized that they’re the only ones in the precinct (other than Gil) who have ever given Malcolm a chance.

12:02 - The hand tremor <3 Damn. Someone hug him. He is so close to a full mental breakdown. I can’t wait.

12:17 - “I’m not fine.” I. Am. So. Proud. Our broken boy just told the truth about his mental state. Look at Dani. She’s shocked and she’s more concerned than ever. Malcolm admitting he’s not fine means he’s really really not fine. This is bad. Malcolm is going to lose it soon.

12:35 - “You were in control” I understand why that would be comforting for Malcolm. HOWEVER, when it’s said like that Malcolm probably draws the parallel between himself and Martin (the manipulative control freak). :(

12:55 - Malcolm expressing his self doubt is shattering. He’s being so vulnerable with Dani right now and I don’t even care about the Brightwell ship at the moment - I’m just proud of him for opening up to someone.

13:03 - “Usually his voice is in my head all the time” Yes. Because even though Martin was chained to a wall, he was still in control. The constant phone calls. The verbal chess games. The traumatic memories. Malcolm has never been able to escape Martin. Ever. Now 2/3 of his regular Martin exposures have disappeared and Malcolm doesn’t know how do go about daily life without the constant harassment.

13:40 - There’s no way Jessica was actually in enough pain to ask for a painkillers. Jess overheard Malcolm and Capshaw talking and she came to ask Capshaw about it.

14:14 - “I feel like I’m in Hell’s waiting room.” “Been there for 23 years.” Ouch. Capshaw is lying through her teeth but Jessica? Jessica is being sincere. My heart breaks for her. Also - the fact that every time we’ve seen Jessica bond with another woman (Eve, Capshaw, Birdie) that woman is a manipulative woman trying to use Jessica’s connection to Martin for her own personal gain is very upsetting. I petition for Jessica to bond with Tally and/or Dani.

14:40 - Look at Capshaw’s face when Jessica mentions Martin’s open casket. She’s hopeful. Like she just found a potential partner in crime. Or at least she just found another reason to justify what she’s about to do to Martin.

15:15 - I can’t anymore. It’s been driving me CRAZY that Dani’s curls are extremely different sizes in almost every other scene this episode. Sometimes the curls are reasonably tight and a little frizzy, Then in scenes like this one her curls are big, loose, and clean. Her hair is gorgeous both ways but the inconsistency is really bothering me.

15:52 - Americans - help me out. Is this a thing? Do your bowling alleys serve alcohol? Specifically wine? My Canadian ass is curious (our bowling alleys serve pop and bottled water. And maybe fruit juice).

15:52 - Look at how cautious Malcolm is as he approaches the boy. He’s afraid. Afraid that he’ll see evidence that the Surgeon is killing again.

16:45 - Who did Pete steal those clothes from? It wasn’t the EMTs.....did he raid Malcolm’s closet?!?!?!

17:15 - Pete was 10 when he found a quasi-sanctuary from his abusive father. So was Malcolm (in the sense that Martin was arrested and physically removed from the home).

17:40 - I love this about Malcolm. Pete helped Martin escape. Pete is a killer. But Malcolm is standing there talking to Pete like they’re friends. Malcolm genuinely empathizes with Pete’s childhood. It’s messed up but it’s also beautiful. Malcolm truly has a good heart.

18:00 - And now Malcolm is scared. He’s just remembered that Pete is a serial killer and he’s in danger.

18:15 - Look, Pete’s a bad guy. But his childhood? Damn. That sucks. :(

18:33 - “Tell me where Martin’s headed.” Not “The Surgeon”, not “Dr. Whitly”, not “my father”. “Martin”. Because Malcolm doesn’t know “Martin”. He’s met his father/dad - the man who loved him and cared for him during the first 10 years of his life. He’s met “The Surgeon” - the man who chloroformed him, manipulated him, and emotionally abused him his entire life. He’s met “Dr. Whitly” - the man who tried to teach him about the human body as a child and the man who gives him valuable medical insight on cases. But Malcolm’s never met this side of Martin Whitly and he doesn’t know what to expect. So he’s calling him “Martin”.

18:56 - Malcolm, you moron. Pete can see that you’re already suffering.

19:07 - I’ll be honest. I was kind of shocked that they killed off Pet like this. I knew Christian Brole was a guest star so obvious something would happen to write his character off the show but....this was intense.

19:16 - “Bright I saw it too.” Thank you, Dani. Calm this boy down. He’s about 10 seconds away from being arrested for being a moron at a crime scene.

19:30 - “It is my job to find my father.” This runs deep. Malcolm isn’t just talking about how it’s his job to profile where Martin might be. This is Malcolm admitting that he’s been subconsciously looking for his father for 23 years. He’s just a little boy who keeps visiting a serial killer in prison because he hopes that one day he’ll find the father that loved him (or at least acted like it). :( Someone hug this boy. <3

19:44 - I found how Malcolm pushes Dani off of him interesting. He’s clearly furious. He clearly is not in the mood to be touched but as soon as Dani starts manhandling him he sort of calms down? He’s not calm but he gains better control of himself. He listens to Dani when she guides him away from Ruiz, (he’s not perfect by any means) but he walks away and you can see his body language relax slightly.

20:11 - I kind of feel bad for JT. Gil and Jessica have blatantly flirted in front of him twice now (2x5 and now). That’s got to be awkward for him. hahaha

20:14 - “Where is Ainsley?” Good question Gil. Malcolm (who is on the verge of a panic attack) is working himself ragged to find Martin. Jessica is terrified and going through old photos to see if she can find anything that might give a clue to Martin’s whereabouts. But Ainsley? Not only is she calm - she’s not reporting on the prison break. She’s not actively trying to find Martin and she’s not terrified. Why? I honestly think (hope) she’s working with Capshaw.

20:20 - That look Gil shoots JT. Yep. Gil definitely suspects that Ainsley’s involved. I’m pretty sure Gil has pieced together what happened to Endicott and now he suspects Ainsley.

20:30 - hahahaha the way that JT stares at Gil as Gil leaves the room. hahahaha. He’s like: “This is awkward. I don’t want to babysit your rich girlfriend (and the Mom of the most annoyingly endearing profilers in existence). I am uncomfortable and I hate that you’re leaving me here alone.”

21:05 - I LOVE THIS SCENE. EVERYTHING ABOUT IT. I love how Dani is slouching in Gil’s chair like she owns it. I love that Malcolm is sitting on the couch like a scolded child. I love that they’re talking about Gil’s birthday.

21:32 - “I’m already drafting an apology letter.” “That’s not enough.” SAY IT LOUDER DANI. This. FINALLY we get someone calling Malcolm on his passive suicidality. Yes, Malcolm is driven and obsessed with the case (any case). But he also risks his life needlessly to solve them. As though he thinks he’s not worthy of saving. As though he believes he deserves to suffer for what he did to The Surgeon and for what The Surgeon did to his victims. Malcolm is passionate and dedicated to his job. But he doesn’t care about his life enough to protect it. That’s passive suicidality in my books.

21:43 - “For a killer who has done nothing but make your life a living hell.....he’s not worth it.” THIS. Malcolm doesn’t hear this enough. People always suspect him of being like Martin. People rarely take the time to realize that Malcolm was just a little boy who was traumatized by the things he found out about Martin. Strangers judge and treat Malcolm like a criminal just because his father is a publicly bad person. It’s been happening for so long that Malcolm believes he’s a bad person who isn’t worthy of happiness.

21:52 - Poor Malcolm. His little face. :( He looks so sad, angry, and scared all at the same time. This is another case of “the logical part of my brain knows I’m acting irrationally but I can’t stop it because the emotions are too big and strong and everything hurts.”

22:05 - “I’m sorry.” MALCOLM WHY THE HELL ARE YOU APOLOGIZING TO DANI?!? Because you yelled at Ruiz and now Dani’s worried about you? Dude. You’re having a mental health crisis and a really really bad day. You don’t need to apologize right now. Dani doesn’t want your apology. She wants you to take care of yourself.

22:25 - “Jury’s still out.” Ouch.

22:32 - Oh look. Another old person with a landline. hahahahha

23:11 - JT being a sweetheart to Jessica. <3 I love this man. This is so cute. I feel like this is the first time JT’s truly seen Jessica as a full human with a personality as opposed to Malcolm’s rich mother and Gil’s love interest.

23:18 - “I get a call like that once a week.” OH HELL NO.

23:30 - I love the fact that Jessica and JT are bonding over the fact that they’re both being harassed and judged for something outside of their control.

23:41 - SOMEONE IS CALLING TALLY?!?! NO. NO. NO. NO. I’M FURIOUS.

24:04 - “I don’t know. Why did you pretend no one was on the phone earlier?” I love this line. Jess didn’t tell for the same reason JT didn’t. They’re independent, strong people. They don’t want bother other people with their problems. They’re embarrassed that this is happening to them and on some level they probably think (wrongfully) that they deserve it.

24:46 - Oh look. All of Malcolm’s worst nightmares are coming true on the same day. The look of pure terror on his face. <3

25:20 - I want more Gil + Ainsley scenes. I find them fascinating. Ainsley looks like she resents Gil (probably because he spent so much time with Malcolm instead of her in the 90s+00s). Gil looks remorseful, sad, concerned, and fatherly. Like, even though he didn’t spend a lot of time with Ainsley - he still loves her. Because he loves Jessica and Malcolm so he loves Ainsley by extension.

25:30 - “People always suspect him” THIS. Ainsley is trying to manipulate Gil into believing she’s innocent by drawing parallels between her actions and Malcolm’s. What Ainsley doesn’t seem to realize (and why Gil is so cold when he says “People always suspect him”) is that Gil watched Malcolm grow up. He watched the cops question him in 98′ because they thought he was a suspect. He watched Malcolm grow up as people bullied him and locked him in closets because he’s the son of a murderer. Malcolm was fired from the FBI for being the Surgeon’s son (and punching a sheriff). Ainsley though? She forwarded her career by televising Malcolm’s mental health issues and proudly announcing that she’s the daughter of a killer. She still has a job. People still treat her with respect. Malcolm wasn’t granted that luxury. Gil knows it. He watched as Ainsley used Martin as a tool for success while Malcolm struggled under the weight of Martin’s crimes and abuse.

25:34 - “Ouch”. Malcolm’s not offended. Look at the little smile he sends toward Dani. <3

25:36 - Ainsley is furious. That’s the look she had in her eyes when she confronted Malcolm about the pig’s blood incident. She has no remorse. She’s pissed that her brother is overshadowing her.

25:49 - “We didn’t plan a prison break.” Who’s the ‘we’. Her and Malcolm? Or Ainsley and Martin? Or all three? Or Capshaw and Ainsley? ....this 3/4 of those options are definitely true. But one of them might be a lie. I think Ainsley was purposely vague to make it harder to Malcolm, Gil, and Dani to tell if she’s lying.

26:17 - Ainsley isn’t scared, stressed, or anxious when she picks up the phone. She seems annoyed but hopeful. I find that interesting.

26:46 - That smile. Ainsley loved talking to her dad. As a girl who grew up without a father - I feel for her. BUT GIRL - he’s a killer and this is not healthy.

27:08 - Malcolm suspects Ainsley. And he’s scared. Bring me my popcorn. I’m here for the show.

27:18 - This must be killing Ainsley. The fact that she knows Malcolm, Gil, and Jessica are a quasi-family unit. It’s probably making her feel more left out than usual.

27:30 - “Maybe I should’ve done more for her when she was growing up.” :( My heart is shattering. This isn’t Gil’s fault but damn, does this hurt.

27:40 - “No matter what we did, all roads led to Martin.” More confirmation that Jessica and Gil co-parented Malcolm. <3 This is amazing. I’m so happy.

27:53 - Really Jess? You’re turned on by the fact that Gil has a secret plan while your daughter is being questioned about helping a murderer escape prison?!?! It’s adorable (especially how Gil starts flirting back with her) but also - not the time.

28:14 - This is why I think Ainsley is somehow involved with Capshaw and/or is a budding serial killer. She’s so cheery. She’s being questioned by the police because they suspect her of committing a crime. Even an innocent person would be a little anxious or defensive. She’s just....numb but also cheery at the same time? Something’s not right here.

28:19 - “This room is under surveillance at all times.” ....but is it under audio surveillance? Is this interrogation going to become a bigger part of the plot later in the season? Because Ainsley verbally questions if she’s like Martin.

29:17 - As much as I hate Martin, I agree with his analysis of Ainsley. She’s high on charm, low on compassion and empathy. She doesn’t have normal reactions to traumatic events. She never appears scared or sad. We’ve only ever really seen Ainsley happy, determined, or angry.

29:20 - ....I fully believe Ainsley is fake crying to manipulate Malcolm during the interrogation.

31:25 - “Do you think I’m the reason he broke out?” Ugh. Ainsley is so starved for parental attention and it’s heartbreaking.....maybe that’s how this killer was made.

32:00 - Gil doesn’t think Ainsley’s a credible source of information. Let’s all just sit on that information for a bit.

32:19 - “It’s not him I’m worried about.” <3 <3 <3 <3 Papa!Gil <3 I’ve missed you. <3 <3

32:34 - YO Gil, Malcolm. Have you two knuckleheads really never watched Criminal Minds?!?! This dude is showing textbook “I’m a hostage” behaviour.

33:19 - Gil calling Malcolm his ‘partner’ is so precious. <3

34:50 - Sooooo 400K is a LOT of money. Did Martin use Milton family money for his murder agenda?!? Did Jessica never notice that much cash missing from their accounts?!? Where did all this money come from?!

35:32 - Ahhhh lovely. Martin had a fake Canadian passport.

35:46 - Excuse me while I cry myself to sleep because Martin put Malcolm’s batman toy in his murder escape bag. It’s so twisted and yet, sweet?

35:50 - “What’s that?” <3 My heart has shattered. Look at the unshed tears in Malcolm’s eyes. Listen to how soft Gil’s voice is. Look at Malcolm’s sad little heartbroken, hopeful smile and Gil’s heartbroken look of concern. <3 I adore this exchange so so so so much. This is the Papa!Gil content I’ve been hungry for.

37:38. -”Bright, she said no.” ....and Gil doesn’t want him going in there either. It’s not safe for anyone. But especially not for Malcolm in his current mental state.

38:25 - “Don’t ever imply Bright doesn’t want to save lives.” YES TELL HER GIL. YES. I’m living my best life. The Papa!Gil fans were FED this episode. <3

38:51 - “They’re going to kill him.” I love this because I get it. My dad was abusive. I don’t like him and I don’t respect him. I think he’s a shitty human being. But I still love him. A part of me always will. Malcolm’s relationship with Martin is a little more complicated but it boils down to the same thing - no matter what a part of you will always love your parents. You might hate that part of yourself. You might try to suppress it. But it’s always there. Whether you like it or not. The idea that Martin will be killed? That’s terrifying for Malcolm because a dead Martin Whitly means he’ll never ‘earn’ his father’s love. It means his chance of finding the father who loved him pre-age 10 is gone forever. And that’s terrifying. Malcolm will grieve what he lost but he won’t grieve Martin as a human being - just who Martin could’ve been for Malcolm.

39:22 - Gil chasing Malcolm <3 I’m in love.

39:55 - Again, where the hell did Hector get these clothes? He sure as hell didn’t steal that plaid shirt from Malcolm’s place or the EMTs.

40:10 - Hector is my favourite killer. I love him and I don’t know why.

40:50 - This sequence is haunting. Watching Gil, Jessica, and Malcolm terrified and concerned in isolating shots. <3 *Chef’s kiss*. AND THE FACT THAT JT is still with Jessica?!?! <3 Glorious. I’m here for it.

41:35 - I don’t like the way Capshaw looked at Malcolm when she said, “He’s your father.”.....it was appraising. Almost like she’s considering killing Malcolm to snub the whole Whitly family of potential killers.

42:17 - That line about karma......holy shit. Capshaw is evil #confirmed. Malcolm is a moron for not spotting it right this second.

42:55 - I have so many questions. 1) how did Capshaw get Martin in the car without anyone noticing? Like, why didn’t the security cameras catch it? 2) ....how much air circulation is in a car trunk? 3) How long has Capshaw been planning this? 4) is it really Martin in the car? Or someone else? ....maybe she had a goon kidnap Martin and take him to a secondary location after he left Claremont grounds? 5) Did Capshaw ever have a romantic interest in Martin? Was it ALL show?

AHHHHH this episode was amazing and I can’t wait for Tuesday. Thanks for hanging out. <3

24 notes · View notes

gonzocoded · 4 years

Note

whats your favorite zukka head canon?

Ooh!! Ok!! Idk if you’re talking like AU or canon universe, but i’m gonna go with canon universe since y’all have all seen my fave AU posts!!

I have recently been thinking a lot about Ambassador Sokka and Firelord Zuko being like very oblivious to the fact that they’re both in love with each other, but literally everyone else knows!!

so it’s like

I know we like to say that Zuko breathing fire was The Moment for Sokka, but like, not to be weird or anything, I think it was when Zuko and Katara returned from their Life Changing Field Trip together and he finds out that they found the guy who killed Katara and Sokka’s mom, bit they didn’t kill him.

I think Boioling Rock showed Sokka that he could trust Zuko, but I think seeing that he was able to show kindness and forgiveness, AND that he went out of his way to help Katara, who hates him obviously, to get her to trust him, but also like for the sale of helping her kind of opened his eyes a bit more

I think he starts to feel things for Zuko then, but like, it’s a war and he’s still Zuko so he pushes it down and mostly forgets about it!!

For Zuko, I think it was the Boiling Rock!!

Seeing Sokka think quickly on his feet and seeing firsthand just how smart he actually is was a Moment for Zuko.

Because before that, he didn’t know much about Sokka or what Sokka’s role was in the group. If someone had just said that he’s the plan guy I don’t think it would have been as big a deal to Zuko, but seeing it in person made it click for him.

Zuko likes smart people, obviously, he’s best friends with Mai, what other proof do you need??

I think Zuko, like Sokka, also realizes that the timing for this is not great for romance and so he ignores it as well

Also, if you want some angst, Zuko grew up in a very homophobic nation, there’s no way he would feel okay with having feelings for another boy.

Anyway!! The war ends!! Yay!! Zuko and Sokka are obviously still good friends who really trust each other and so when Zuko asks Sokka to be his Ambassador Sokka accepts!!

They spend the first year focusing almost entirely on policy and politics, there’s a lot that they need to do and that’s their main focus.

But once some of the most urgent stuff is taken care of they actually have time to have thoughts about other things and since they spend so much time together their thoughts just naturally drift to each other.

Both of them like super admire the other and they both think that’s all it is because they are not well versed in processing emotions

Sokka’s like “wow, Zuko is such a great leader! He cares about his people so much and he’s really growing into his own! Also when did his hair get so long and wow it’s shiny, i bet it smell really good—“

and Zuko’s like “oh boy, Sokka has always been smart and a quick thinker, but working alongside him is even more impressive! Also wow look at him go practicing swordbending in the courtyard he’s so good! Also huh he’s not wearing a shirt maybe i’ll sit and watch him for a while, i’ve got time before my next meeting!”

the palace staff is like “......are y’all dumb or are you really just that repressed??”

All of the Gaang comes to visit at some point and they’re sitting there watching Zuko and Sokka flirt with each other without even knowing that they’re flirting with each other and everyone’s like

“.......”

“so who’s gonna tell them that they’re in love with each other bc clearly they do not know”

basically everyone who knows them has placed bets on when and how they’ll get together

ummmm that’s all i’ve got i think, i’m not sure how they end up getting together, i haven’t gotten that far yet lol

#anonymous #anya answers #zukka #zuko #sokka #thanks for the ask!!#feel free to add on to this if yoy feel so inclined!!#atla #my content

245 notes · View notes

user-2-electric-boogaloo · 4 years

Text

A Comparison of RTD and Steven Moffat: Saving The Day

So for this analysis I’m going to compare when Moffat and RTD save the day well and when they save it poorly. There are a few bits of criteria I need to explain.

First I will only be including main series, no Torchwood, no spin-offs, and no mini episodes.

Second, I have to define what makes a good and a bad ending (my examples will come from episodes written by neither of them):

Bad endings include when the sonic saves the day (see The Power Of Three) (there are exceptions, see below), when a character spouts some useless technobabble that doesn’t make any scientific sense/when it doesn’t make logical sense in general, when the Doctor invents/presents a machine/equipment that miraculously stops the baddy and is never referred to again (see Journey To The Centre Of The TARDIS), and any other ending I deem to be bad (see The Vampires of Venice)

Good endings include when the sonice activates a device that has been well established to save the day, when technobabble is used that actually makes some scientific sense, and just generally when the baddy is destroyed in what I deem to be a creative manner that makes sense with all the things that had been set up in that episode (see The Unquiet Dead).

There will also be cases where there isn’t really a day to be saved, however this happens more often with Moffat.

Let us begin (obviously there will be spoilers but the last episode in the list aired nearly 4 years ago so what you doing with your life).

RTD:

Rose: Bad

What even is anti-plastic?! Like seriously, he’s faced the Autons loads of times and has never thought to use it any other time.

The End Of The World: Bad

The Doctor just goes up to the appearance of the repeated meme (ha meme) and rips its arm off. He then just summons Cassandra back by twisting a knob which apparently everyone can do if “you’re very clever like me”.

Aliens Of London/World War Three: Good

Just nuking them all was a bit dodgy but I’ll give it to him purely because it had been set up earlier in the episode and it is a genuine option that could have been taken.

The Long Game: Good

The heating issue was set up within 2 minutes of the episode starting. It’s always good to see the Doctor using his enemies weakness against them.

Boom Town: Good

Only just. It’s technology that hadn’t been showcased ever before and came out of nowhere, but I’m allowing purely because it was setting up The Parting Of The Ways.

Bad Wolf/The Parting Of The Ways: Good

See above. It was set up the story before so it works.

The Christmas Invasion: Bad

This was so close to being good. If RTD had just let the Sycorax leader be honourable then everything would have been fine. Instead he had to let him be dishonourable and then the Doctor through the Satsuma at a random button that for no apparent reason caused a bit of floor to fall away.

New Earth: Bad

It only makes sense if you think about it for less than 10 seconds as just pouring every cure to every disease ever into a giant tub and then spraying said supercure onto them all, then having them hug each other to pass it on. That is suspending my disbelief just a bit too far.

Tooth And Claw: Good

Everything is set up in the episode so I’ll allow it but I fail to see how Prince Albert had the time to ensure that the diamond was cut perfectly.

Love And Monsters: Bad

It’s Love And Monsters. Need I say more?

Army of Ghosts/Doomsday: Good

It was very clearly set up throughout the episode.

The Runaway Bride: Bad

I don’t like how a few bombs can supposedly drain the entire Thames.

Smith And Jones: Good

All the events were well established

Gridlock: Good

It’s a fairly bland way to save the day, just opening the surface to all the drivers. But how else could he have done it?

Utopia/The Sound Of Drums/Last Of The Time Lords: Bad

As much as I like the idea that he tuned himself into the archangel network, he basically turned into Jesus. It is arguably the least convincing ending in modern Doctor Who history.

Voyage Of The Damned: Bad

Why was he the next highest authority? If he’s the highest authority in the universe why didn’t they default to him in the first place? If not then why not default to Midshipman Frame? And if he’s somehow in between them then why? Also Astrid killed herself for no reason when she easily could have jumped out of the forklift.

Partners In Crime: Good

It works in the context of the episode, but I don’t see why they needed two of the necklace things.

Midnight: Good

It’s human nature, you can’t get more well set up than that.

Turn Left: Good

It works logically

The Stolen Earth/Journey’s End: Bad

Donna just spouts a load of technobabble whilst pressing buttons and then the Daleks are magically incapacitated.

The Next Doctor: Bad

Why do the infostamps sever Hartigan’s connection with the Cyberking? As far as I remember it ain’t explained.

Planet Of The Dead (co-written with noted transphobe Gareth Roberts): Good

A good couple scenes are dedicated on getting the anti-gravs set up.

The Waters Of Mars (co-written with Phil Ford): N/A

The day isn’t really saved cause everyone still dies anyway.

The End Of Time: Good

Using a gun to destroy a machine is much better than using the sonic to destroy it.

Summary for RTD:

Out of 24 stories written by him, I deem 10 to be bad endings with 1 abstaining. That’s 41.7% of his episodes (43.5% if we don’t count any abstaining).

Steven Moffat:

The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances: Good

You’ll see this a lot with Moffat, he knows how to explain things without stupefying levels of technobabble. “Emailing the upgrade” is a perfect example of this.

The Girl In The Fireplace: Good

Some basic logic, the androids want to repair their ship, but they can’t return to it, they no longer have a function so they shut down.

Blink: Good

Always loved this one, getting the angels to look at each other, however they do look at each other sometimes earlier in the episode.

Silence In The Library/Forest Of The Dead: Bad

This is more of a problem with the setup of the episode, I don’t like that he can negotiate with the Vashta Nerada. I’d rather see them comprehensively beaten, but I guess it’s good for the scare factor that they can’t be escaped from.

The Eleventh Hour: Good

He convinced the best scientists all around the world to set every clock to 0 all in less than an hour. In the Doctor’s own words “Who da man!”

The Beast Below: Good

The crying child motif pretty much ended up saving the day (well for the star whale, life went on as normal for pretty much everyone else).

The Time Of Angels/Flesh And Stone: Good

The artificial gravity had briefly been set up earlier so I’ll allow it.

The Pandorica Opens/The Big Bang: Good

Everything had been set up perfectly, the vortex manipulator, the Pandorica’s survival field thingy, the TARDIS exploding at every moment in history.

A Christmas Carol: Good

Literally the entire episode is the Doctor saving the day by convincing Kazran not to be a cock.

The Impossible Astronaut/Day Of The Moon: Good

The silence’s ability to influence people is their whole thing, so using it against them is a good Doctory thing to do.

A Good Man Goes To War: N/A

The day isn’t really saved, Melody is lost, but River shows up at the end so is all fine? I love the episode it’s just the day isn’t really truly saved (yes I know Amy was rescued but she still lost her baby).

Let’s Kill Hitler: N/A

There isn’t really a day to be saved. They all get out alive but no one is really saved other than maybe River but we all knew she was gonna live anyway.

The Wedding Of River Song: Good

Whilst opinion is divided on the episode, the ending still works. the Tesseracta was established in Let’s Kill Hitler, and the “touch River and time will move again” was established well in advance.

The Doctor, The Widow And The Wardrobe: Bad

I don’t like how the lifeboat travels through the time vortex for no reason but to rescue the dad. It don’t make no sense and I don’t think it’s explained

Asylum Of The Daleks: Good

Oswin had access to the Dalek hive mind so of course she should be able to link into the controls and blow everything up.

The Angels Take Manhattan: Good

Paradoxes really do be something powerful, and they even acknowledge how nobody knows if it’d work so I’ll let it slide.

The Snowmen: Bad

Lots of people cry at Christmas, why are the Latimers anything special?

The Bells of Saint John: Good

The whole episode is about hacking so why shouldn’t the Doctor be able to hack the spoonheads

The Name Of The Doctor: Good

It was the story arc for the season pretty much, so of course it was explained well in advance.

The Day Of The Doctor: Good

Both the storing Gallifrey like a painting and the making everyone forget if they’re Human or Zygon works in the context of the episode.

The Time Of The Doctor: Bad

Since when were the Time Lords so easily negotiated with?

Deep Breath: Good

I like the dilemma over whether the half-face man was pushed or jumped.

Into The Dalek: Good

It’s set up well with this new Doctor’s persona of actually not being too nice of a guy (at first).

Listen: N/A

There isn’t a day to be saved. It’s just 45 minutes of the Doctor testing a hypothesis and I low-key love it.

Time Heist (co-written with Steven Thompson): Good

It works logically so I’ll allow it however it isn’t very well set up at all.

The Caretaker (co-written with noted shithead Gareth Roberts): Good

The machine to tell the Blitzer what to do was set up well in advance so I’ll allow it.

Dark Water/Death In Heaven: Good

The fact that Danny still cares even as a cyberman is set up fairly early on after his transformation.

Last Christmas: Good

He does use the sonic to wake up Clara but he convinces the others to wake up through talking so I’ll allow it.

The Magician’s Apprentice/The Witch’s Familiar: Good

It’s set up well with that little scene from actually inside the sewers.

The Girl Who Died (co-written with Jamie Mathieson): Good

IDK why the vikings would randomly keep electric eels but they’re set up well so I’ll ignore it.

The Zygon Inversion (co-written with Peter Harness): N/A

Not including this one as it’s only the second part and I’d argue the ending is most likely Harness’.

Heaven Sent/Hell Bent: N/A

Again there isn’t really a day to be saved, yes Heaven Sent really is amazing but it’s only the first part and, being completely honest, he dies several billion times before finally getting through the wall.

The Husbands Of River Song: N/A

Again there isn’t really a day to be saved here.

The Return Of Doctor Mysterio: Good

He gets Grant to catch the bomb which is good. But he does just sonic the gun out of Dr Sim’s hand and says UNIT is on its way which just sort of wraps it up very quickly.

The Pilot: N/A

No day to be saved here.

Extremis: Good

You could technically call it the sonic saving the day, I consider it to be the Doctor emailing the Doctor to warn him of the future.

The Pyramid At The End Of The World: Good

The fire sanitising everything makes sense and it’s in character for Bill to love the Doctor enough to cure his blindness in return for the world

World Enough And Time/The Doctor Falls: Good

Yes it is the sonic just blowing the cybermen up, but it’s blowing them up with well established pipelines so I’ll allow it (also the story is amazing).

Twice Upon A Time: N/A

No day to be saved here. Just Doctors 1 and 12 getting angsty about regenerating.

Summary for Steven Moffat:

Out of 39 stories written by him, I deemed 4 to be bad with 7 abstaining. That’s 10.3% of his episodes (12.5% if we don’t count any abstaining).

Conclusions:

Moffat was much better at saving the day than RTD

Moffat liked telling stories where the day didn’t actually need to be saved

I’ve spent way too long on this and I need to sleep

If I spent as much time on this as my coursework I’d probably pass

If you’re still reading this, you probably need to get a life

#doctor who #steven moffat #rtd #in case you can't tell I really don't like RTD #Remember the Superwholock days when everyone ripped the shit out of Moffat #what am I doing with my life #tardis #rose tyler #martha jones #donna noble #amy pond #rory pond #rory williams #river song #clara oswald #Bill Potts

56 notes · View notes

oh-my-may · 4 years

Text

Iwaizumi, Ushijima and Kageyama reacting to their s/o wearing someone else’s jacket

requested: Hi !! Since requests are open I was wondering if you could write scenarios for Iwaizumi, Ushi & Kageyama with the sweater prompt you’ve written before !! Its the one where the reader borrows somebody else’s sweater/jacket ;; I hope you know which one I’m talking about qkdkwkf but anyways !! Thanks in advanced if you write this request & take care of yourself !!

Thank you for requesting! Who would’ve thought that I still had ideas for this but oh well here you go, please enjoy! I actually still like writing these lol

Also I got a bunch of requests with other boys for this so I guess this will be like aseries or something idk you guys really seem to like these :D

Iwaizumi Hajime:

Okay so you’re in the same year as him and being thrid-years there are several traditions there are to keep, so one night moste of you meet up to roam the school in the most ungodly hours and do some shenanigans that the younger pupils and teachers would see in the morning.

As you were walking to your meet up point with your boyfriend and his friends, your body was hit by several cold breezes you didn’t expect from a summer night.

You wrapped your small cardigan even tighter around you, but it didn’t do much. (un?)fortunately a familiar figure came up behind you, immediately placing something warm around your shoulders.

“Y/N-chan~ I saw you freezing. Take my jacket for a while.” It was Oikawa, who was smiling as bright as ever. You just thanked him and then proceeded to walk with him to the crossroas in front of your school, where Iwaizumi was already waiting alongside Matsukawa and Hanamaki.

You expected a warm hug and sweet words as a greeting from your boyfriend, but you didn’t get any of it. Instead he just glared at Oikawa like he was already plotting his murder in 50 different ways.

You felt a little kick in your guts but tried to not think any of it, even when Iwaizumi fiddled out of Trashykawas grip when he tried to hug him. Maybe he was just tired and therefore a little moody?

You walked alongside each other across campus, until he suddenly stopped you both so you walked at the end of your group of friends. “Hajime, wha-” But you didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence, because you were caught in surprise as Iwaizumi carelessly took Oikawas jacket from your shoulders and replaced it with his own.

He threw Oikawas jacket straight at him when he turned around after hearing his name being called.

You just look at him confused and bewildered, though you suddenly understand what the whole thing was about. “The jacket-”

“Don’t ever wear his jacket again, yeah?”, he says quietly but assertively as he snakes an arm over your shoulders and pulls you close to kiss the top of your head. “He was lucky I didn’t kill him right then and there, he knew exactly what he was doing-”

“Hajime, it’s fine, alright?” You smile at him and press a kiss on his cheek, but that still doesn’t keep him from ignoring Oikawa for the next hours and possibly days until he’s learned his lesson.

Wakatoshi Ushijima:

It was a normal day at school. Or so you thought, until the weather suddenly changed frantically and instead of sunshine you were greeted by a cloudy sky and hundreds of rain drops falling from the sky as you stepped outside for lunch break.

You sighed heavily and let your shoulders sink, resignating and preparing yourself for a long and wet run over campus.

Until a friend of yours came up next to you, quickly observed the situation and then placed his jacket over your head as a shield from the rain. “Your hair will look a lot more messier when wet.” he argues and you just thank him with a big smile. Then you both nod at each other as you start to sprint over practically the whole campus to lunch hall. Really, whose idea was it to make this campus so abnormously big?

When you arrived you were laughing and still a little damp, but your friends jacket kept you save from worse. “Really, thanks a lot. I’ll even wash it for you and bring it back tomorrow if it’s not too much.”

So you keep the jacket for the rest of the day. You almost forget about it until the school bell rings and your day is finally over. Well, almost. You get up and make your way to the gym to watch your boyfriend practice before you two would go to his dorm to study together.

But it was drizzling outside so without much thought you took your friends jacket and placed the hood over your head as you walked to your destination.

Ushijima already greeted you at the gates. He was not one to show a lit of emotion, but if you payed closer detail to his features you could see the way he tilts his head when he sees you and honestly this was more than enough for you.

You greet him with as warm hug as usual but he seems a little stiffer than usual, so you pull back and look at him in question. “Toshi, is something wrong?”

He just blinks at you before he points towards your head, which was still covered in the hood. “Y/N, whose jacket is that?”

“Oh! It belongs to my friend. he gave it to me as a shield from the weather and-”

“I don’t like it.” He simply says. You grew used to his straight forward demeanor, but you were still taken aback by his sudden outburst. “What?”

“I don’t think I like it when you wear other guys’ jackets. Something tells me this isn’t something you should do when you’re in a relationship.” You might be imagining things... But was that a slight pout appearing on his lips?

“Toshi...” Without further ado you take the jacket off, before you stuff it in your bag and hug your boyfriend tightly once more. “You’re so cute, do you know that?”

“Next time please ask for my jacket.”, he mumbles as he softly places his arms around your body.

“You were at the other end of the building-”

“Just ask.”

Kageyama Tobio:

You were very excited. You were about to watch Kageyama at his first official match since you started dating and quite frankly you were a lot more nervous than him, even though you weren’t even standing on the field.

You found yourself shacking all the time, reacting a lot more sensitive to the not so cold weather. It was a bit windy, yeah, but that was it. But the nervousness did the rest to your body so you found yourself shaking all of the time, to the point where you even got goose bumps from just the cold and your constant shivering.

You were outside, trying to calm your nerves with some fresh air alongside some of the other boys of the team. It was Nishinoya who approached you first, his head slightly tilted as he looked at you with big eyes. “Y/N, are you alright? Are you getting sick or something?”

You try to smile at him but your overall situation didn’t really help you in succeding. “I’m a bit cold because I’m very nervous.” you admit, and Noya just instantly nods as he gives you his jacket. “here, you can have mine! And no worries, we’ll definitely ace this game! Just cheer for us, and especially Kageyama! He’s really excited because you’re here!”

Hearing him say those words realxed you a bit and you took his jacket and gently placed it over your shoulders, feeling better about everything in no time. You went back inside to go looking for your boyfriend, when you finally find him stretching and warming up with Hinata.

“I’m sure both of you will do great today.”, you greet them and find yourself looking into two smiling faces. “Of course we will!” Hinata jumps up and down. “We worked even further on our quick so our opponents will have- oh, are you wearing Nishinoyas jacket, Y/N?”

This is when Kageyama finally realizes it. The jacket you were wearing was not his, because his was still laying on the side on a bench. He had a questioning look on his face, but didn’t really comment on it further.

“He gave it to me outside so I could get a little warmer since I was freezing. But I’m feeling better now.” You take it off and place it next to the rest of the teams stuff.

“You can... You can take mine, if you want to.” Kageyama suddenly bursts out and he looks about as red as a tomato when you look at him in surprise. he sounded like he had to violently squeeze these words out of him. “Please.” He then adds, a bit quieter.

You’re still abit surprised, but then you soften and take his jacket with a lot more confidence. “Of course! I’ll cheer you on, alright? Just do your best, as always.” You walk up to kags to press a feather light kiss to his lips and he’s almost to shy to function properly after.

“Just keep the jacket. You don’t need to wear someone else’s anymore. That’s what I’m here for, right?”

You have to laugh as you look up to him. He looks a bit helpless but cute, so you hug him again and promise to do exactly that.

341 notes · View notes

timextoxhajima · 4 years

Audio

Member: juyeon bec idk

Genre: fluff and lots of uwu because i’m feeling it :<

Category: Playlist Feels One Shot

Word Count: 1.7k

“time will be frozen for us”

most people associate something with someone.

be it the watch your father gave you, or the stuffed plushie that your mother used to play with you before you fell asleep.

yours was the sound of the door clicking open, even when it’s past midnight.

usually you would’ve rolled yourself out of bed and ran for the door like you had five seconds left to live, but the ache in your back and the mild headache throbbing inside your skull was making the regular chore too much of a hassle.

“i’m back-- oh?”

you take a deep breath, legs warm under the blanket and the night light of your room painting the walls an amber yellow. the shuffling of his feet against the floor tells you he was walking towards the bedroom where you were stuck to your bed, and you look up at him, one arm under the pillow.

he looks down at you, his blank expression quickly replaced with worry and concern when he realises you wouldn’t be in bed on any other normal day, especially not when he’s returned from his busy schedule.

“are you... okay? i was expecting you to jump on me or something when i walked through the door,” he doesn’t bother to put his bag down, his free hand dropping his keys on the nightstand next to the bed near to you.

the feverish sensation washes through you with each small breath you took as he presses his palm onto your forehead, and flips it over to press the back of his hand.

“aw... no,” he kneels down next to you and lays his head on the mattress, pulling your hand into his. “are you aching anywhere or is it just fever?”

“my back’s aching and my head’s going to kill me if it doesn’t go away soon, otherwise i’m fine.”

juyeon pouts and trails his eyes from your face to your fingers, playing with the edge of your nails while you let your fever runs its course.

“okay, well...” he pulls away, and him taking his warmth with him makes you feel slightly empty. “i’m gonna go make you some tea before i hop into the shower and--”

“noooo juyeon,” the whine was so annoyingly apparent, you couldn’t stop the laugh that ran up your throat as you reached out and grabbed his wrist.

juyeon smiles and chuckles at your whining, thumb reaching down and brushing your forehead. “no tea? what is it you need then?”

you gulp and start to press and play with the veins and knuckles on his hand. “i want to go out and see some stars.”

his face brightens, but dims back into confusion and disapproval, despite the smile never once leaving his lips. “stars? it’s one in the night, sweet pea. and on top of that, you have a fever.”

“what if i said i knew stars would make me feel better?” your other hand finds his wrist and you gently tug on it, your neck slowly aching from the need to look up at him even though you were lying down. he scans you from head to toe, and he watches you with skepticism while you fiddle with his hand.

“pleeeeaaaassseeeeeeee?” pulling up his palm to your face to let him hold your cheek, the pout on your lips only making you wonder if it was the fever talking.

you see a flash flit across his pupils, and he sighs in defeat, his heart completely giving into what you wanted instead of what you needed.

“yay,” you giggle and use his arm as a support to sit yourself up.

“but we are coming back once your ache starts to worsen and if you sneeze -- just once -- and we’ll come back immediately, okay?” he helps you off the bed and he hands you one of his sweaters to pull over your already thick, baggy shirt. “you’re lucky my schedule tomorrow isn’t in the morning.”

you bare your teeth in mischief with a smile, and the sight of him wrapping his fingers around the car and house keys makes you feel instantaneously better.

the pick-up truck was given to you by your father, and that was the thing you associated him with. he’d always wanted to get you a nicer, newer car, but all the memories you had with your parents in that old vehicle was just priceless.

you were lucky your boyfriend knew how to work his way around cars, else your father would’ve sent the pick-up truck to be dismantled.

juyeon throws some pillows and blankets into the backseat of the truck while you get in the passenger’s seat, and it wasn’t a surprise to see him climbing onto the cargo bed and spraying some disinfectant on it.

the drive to the field nearby was nothing short of juyeon telling you how his day went; and you couldn’t help but laugh at eric falling off the chair during the vlive they did in the evening.

the boys weren’t the only ones who actively teased him about it.

it wasn’t long before the pick up truck rumbled it’s way through the tall grass of the field and away from the trees that lined the roads. you were short of sticking your entire head out the window like a dog, the cold, midnight wind brushing past your skin and leaving light, delicate kisses. naturally craning your head to look upwards, you immediately start to gape and wander at the beauty of the little markings the heavens provided you.

once in the middle of the field, juyeon pulls the car into parking and turns off the engine. you walk round the car and open the backseat to take some of the pillows while he took the blankets, and the both of you throw it into the cargo bed. he picks you up and you crawl under the blankets, eyes starting to glue themselves to the breathtaking view of the sky.

the entire vehicle jerks when juyeon hops in on his own, and he crawls under the blanket with you, arm sliding under your neck and around your shoulders to hold you close to him.

your right ear presses against the left side of his chest, and his slow heartbeat becomes music to your ears, alongside the peaceful chirping of crickets in the grass all around you.

juyeon had brought you out to stargaze on your first date, in this very spot, with this very pick-up truck, and it’s been your favourite place to heal since then. you don’t remember a time coming here without juyeon either.

the scent of grass and dew filled your nostrils and the gentle breeze was making it all the more easier to breathe. you would’ve caught a cold if you were alone, but the blankets coupled with the warmth you were feeding off juyeon was enough to make you forget about your fever.

“if you’re uncomfortable or you feel your fever getting worse, we’re going home, alright?”

he whispers into your hair and pecks you on the crown of your head, his free arm reaching behind his head to prop it up atop the pillow. your left hand circles around his stomach, and your legs start to tangle with each other’s under the blanket.

“i could totally sleep right now,” you smile into the material of his hoodie, and you snuggle into his comfort as if you weren’t already glued to him like tape.

“it’ll be really funny if we both fall asleep here and we’ll get cooked by the morning sun when we wake up tomorrow.”

you laugh at his comment, and your eyes automatically open again to revel in the gorgeous sight of faraway planets and stars.

you stay quiet against him for how long, you weren’t sure. time always seemed to fly past like it was nothing when you were with him. though it made you sad sometimes, to know that every second couldn’t be pulled into eternity, but you also knew that juyeon must’ve been someone special for you to feel so happy with, you couldn’t feel the effects of time.

his gentle fiddling with your hair and circling on your shoulder drives you further into bliss, the scent of him starting to mix with the calming dewy scent of nature.

if only this really could be your eternity. the things you’d do to drag this moment out forever.

time did it’s job and continued running relentlessly, and juyeon squeezes your shoulder to tell you that it was now three, and you needed to get home to rest up properly.

you were reluctant at first, but wherever juyeon was, it would be home to you.

juyeon lets you shower first, so by the time he was in bed with you, your spirit was already half gone into the wonderland of dreams and cotton candy.

instinctively, you lay your head on his chest again, palm flat right next to your nose and his arm absorbs the warmth of your neck, fingers resting on the skin of your shoulder.

“are you feeling better though? after seeing the stars?” his voice rumbles through his chest, and you grin to yourself upon knowing that you heard it through his skin.

“i don’t need to see stars to feel better, i just had to find an excuse so the both of us won’t pass out so early.”

you feel him shift his head and a small laugh exposes itself as little bursts of air into the crown of your head.

“aw,” he cooes, kissing you on the forehead. “i’m sorry i’ve been so busy these few weeks. my schedule will definitely lighten up in a month or so, so please bear with me, would you?”

you hear the apologetic tone in his voice, and it breaks you a little. angling your head upwards, you push yourself up with enough effort to peck him on the lips for comfort.

“i’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes,” you return to your previous position and snuggle even harder if it was possible. “even if it takes a million years.”

his left hand finds the one that was on his chest and he interlocks his fingers between yours, the sensation drilling warmth and bliss throughout your entire nervous system.

“if that’s your way of saying ‘i love you’, then i love you too.”

#timetohajima #timetohajima playlist feels #juyeon #the boyz juyeon #juyeon fluff #juyeon one shot #the boyz fluff #the boyz one shot

167 notes · View notes

imagine-that · 4 years

Text

Wonder

Warnings: a little angsty I guess? Kinda sad at some parts? Idk lol.

Pairing: (young) Sirius Black x reader

AN: this is my first song based imagine eeeeeeeeeeeeeppppppppp!!! I listened to wonder a few hundred times already and this popped into my mind as I was listening for about the tenth time I believe and it just unravelled into this from there. I love the Marauders, I love Shawn and being able to mix the two makes me so damn happy.

AN 2: ALL LYRICS USED ARE FROM THE SONG WONDER BY SHAWN MENDES, I put the song right below so you can listen and maybe get a feel for my inspiration or for the imagine itself a little more. Hope you love it as much as I do 🥰❤️☺️

Grabbing one last carefully decided on sweater, you slip it into your trunk, carefully closing the lid over top.

As you struggle to push it down to shut properly, the Marauders come bounding into the room, laughter following their entrance, nearly scaring you out of your skin and making you fall back and the trunk to burst open much to your dismay.

“Boys! I almost had that shut.” You groan from the ground, sitting up to give them each a playful glare.

“Sorry y/n! Didn’t realize you would be in here I’m afraid. Are you alright? Not too beat up I hope?” Sirius says worriedly, reaching down towards you and offering you a hand to get up.

You giggle at his dramatics, taking his hand in your own and hoisting yourself off the ground.

Sirius, though a majorly known flirt with every girl at hogwarts, held a special place in your heart. You were best friends till the very end. Perhaps sometimes even closer than he and James were.

Little did you know, he felt the bond between you was more than just that.

I wonder if I'm being real

Do I speak my truth or do I filter how I feel?

“I’ll live though my clothes may not be there every step of the way.” You laugh, the melodic sound filling Sirius’ ears, much to his delight. You gesture to your wide open trunk, making the boys flash a look of mock guilt. All of them except for Sirius of course, who looks genuinely sorry.

“Sorry ‘bout that y/l/n. Mind if I help you?” He asks, an eager smirk on his face. You just laugh, nodding your head as he walks over to the trunk and pushes down the lid hard, a loud smacking sound ringing through the air.

“My hero!” You cry, running over and wrapping your arms around him tightly, catching him off guard.

He hugs back tightly, scared that if he let go you might disappear or something.

“It was nothing fair maiden.” He whispers teasingly, his breath warm by your ear and making you giggle softly, a smile creeping across his face as you do so.

You could vividly remember the first day you’d met the boys, they’d been teasing Sirius about his families beliefs and their tradition of getting Slytherin as a house, the most evil of them all according to them.

Horrified by what they were saying, you’d jumped to his rescue. You scolded the other three for their behaviour and Sirius had been more than amused by your performance. He was immediately taken by you, not that he’d ever tell you that.

I wonder, wouldn't it be nice

To live inside a world that isn't black and white?

Since that day, you and the group had been inseparable and you and Sirius were connected at the hip.

“You’re such a dork Sirius.” You giggle again, your forehead against his chest as you laugh.

He’s thankful for this, knowing you can’t see his reddened face. The other boys however, mock Sirius in his shockened state.

Anyone would be shocked at this sight. No one had ever seen Sirius Black so flustered. It was the strangest thing to see.

“Right back at you y/n/n.” He chuckles, regaining his composure before you can see his previous reaction.

“Hello? What’re we, snivellus snape?” James cry’s out, catching both of your attention as you turn your head, not quick enough to notice the scarlet faced Sirius beside you.

I wonder, what it's like to be my friends

Hope that they don't think I forget about them.

“You could’ve used a simple charm you know...” Remus mutters, earning a sharp look from Sirius and an elbow jab in the shoulder from James.

“Oi! You two! Picking on Remus won’t help you with anything, it’s just rude.” You mock lecture, pulling away from Sirius to pull the shorter and smarter boy in the group in for a hug himself, unknowingly making Sirius more jealous than ever before.

Remus felt a slight discomfort, knowing you were completely oblivious to the tension between the two at that very moment.

“So, packed up for the holidays already y/l/n? My parents won’t stop talking about how excited they are that your family is having dinner with us. I think they might like you more than they like me, their own bloody son!” James exclaims, looking as though the mere idea was completely crazy to him.

“Well Potter, I don’t get into nearly as much trouble as you so I wouldn’t blame them.” You tease, messing up his hair as you often did.

Your two families had been good friends for years and you’d known James since you were born. You’d grown apart over the years but after you both met Sirius the bond grew stronger than before.

Sirius’ eyes widen as he realizes that means spending time over the holidays with you, seeing as he was staying at the Potters this year as well. His parents were, as usual, furious at him for whatever reason.

The idea of being in close quarters with you during such an intimate time of year made the poor boys heart flutter inside his chest.

I wonder, I wonder...

——————————————————————

A few weeks later...

“James for god sake, stop hogging the every flavour beans!” You could hear Sirius cry out as you entered the Potter family home.

“Already fighting I see?” You ask with a playful grin. Sirius and James stop bickering, looking over to greet you only Sirius is at a loss for words.

You’d dressed as nicely as you could, but you’d still brought pants with you in case you needed them to run after the boys and their troublesome antics. However, you’d opted to wear a simple black skirt with a y/f/c top.

“Y/n, looking ugly as ever.” James teases. Just as you’re about to swat at his arm, his mother enters, looking furious.

“James Potter, did I just hear you say what I think I heard you say to sweet y/n?” She demands. James’ eyes go wide in fear as he gulps nervously.

“No I-.” He starts but his mother is already dragging him out of the room, scolding him for his lack of manners.

“Wouldn’t want to be him right now.” You chuckle, watching after the two.

“Yeah... he was only joking you know. I don’t think it’s even possible for you to look ugly y/n.” Sirius admits shyly.

You look at him with a coy smile and surprised y/e/c eyes, your face heating as it tinges pink.

Sirius tries to hold back a grin at the sight, never wanting to look at anything other than your face in that moment, knowing he’d more than likely have some sort of magnificent dream of it later that night, or at the very least have it running through his mind on a joyful loop as he tried to get some sleep.

Right before I close my eyes

The only thing that's on my mind.

“Of course not. It is James after all.” You agree, breaking the silence between you as you nervously run a hand up your arm.

“Yes of course.” He mutters before leaving the room.

The next few hours are spent in bliss, sharing stories between your two families and exchanging gifts and a delicious supper prepared by both of your mothers.

The minute dinner is over, you and the two boys race outside, quick to get away from the chance of chores.

“So Potter, any luck so far this year with Lily? Or are you still getting rejected every bloody time.” You ask with an eyebrow raised in amusement as you walk together.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I have you know she isn’t rejecting me. She’s simply having trouble making up her mind.” He sighs.

You snort at his argument, remaining unconvinced.

“Sure she is Potter.” You say sarcastically.

“Alright then y/l/n. This is only fair, so is there anyone you fancy yet?” He asks challengingly.

Sirius looks at you expectantly, waiting for the answer more eagerly than you could tell.

Been dreaming that you feel it too

I wonder what it's like to be loved by you, yeah

“No I don’t believe so.” You laugh, rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him.

Sirius’ face flashes with disappointment for a moment but it’s gone as soon as it has appeared, making you question if it had really been what you’d seen at all.

Shaking off the feeling of suspicion, you dare the boys to race with you down the hill you’d decided to sit on to take a breather. They both gladly take the challenge, practically crashing down the hill into each other.

As they reached the bottom, you continued your slow and relaxed pace, watching with a smile as they both stop to catch their breath desperately.

“We win... y/l/n.” James pants, trying to control his breathing.

“I’m well aware. I just wanted to watch the two of you nearly kill yourselves running.” You say, falling into a fit of giggles as the two chase you around the field.

You squeal excitedly as they catch up to you, both grabbing hold of you at the same time and pulling you back towards them as you kick and flail, failing to break free through your fit of laughter.

The two tickle you together, making you giggle even more, your rib cage aching from the feeling.

“S-stopppp! I get it!” You screech, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard.

The two move away, leaving you on the ground to recompose yourself. You take a few deep breaths, staring up at the sky as you calm down, blissfully watching the clouds.

James waggled his eyebrows at Sirius wordlessly, teasing him for the look of pure admiration he was fixing you with, though not to your knowledge.

I wonder what it's like

I wonder what it's like to be loved by you

After a while, the boys decide to join you, sprawling out on the ground on either side of you.

The three of you lay there for hours, watching the sky darken and chatting about everything you could think of. As you tease James about his crush on Lily Evans, he decides to work up the nerve to send her an owl.

Though you wanted to talk him out of it, you opted not to, too interested in what the outcome may be.

“He’s a real nutter thinking that pestering her will earn her affections.” You laugh to Sirius, your head rested comfortably on his shoulder.

He chuckles. “Yeah, I’m not sure Evans will much appreciate his attempts.” He agrees.

The two of you once again sit in a comfortable silence, happy to be in each other’s company. A few moments later, Sirius notices your trembling figure, seeing your arms covered in goosebumps from the crisp early winter air.

He pulls away, making you glance over at him in question as he removes his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders to protect you from hypothermia.

“Thanks Siri.” You whisper as you return to your previous position, the nickname a habit at this point.

“Of course y/l/n. I’m nothing if not a gentleman.” He laughs, hoping you don’t notice his slight stutter of nerves. No matter how many times you would snuggle up to him late at night or even during the day when you were getting sleepier, he could never stop the way his heart skipped a beat when it happened.

He always worried he would say the wrong thing and reveal his feelings or make you question his intentions.

I wonder, why I'm so afraid

Of saying something wrong, I never said I was a saint.

You look over the skyline with a smile on your face, tugging his jacket closer to you blissfully.

“So why aren’t you with your family this year Siri? I mean, I know they’re not exactly the greatest of people but it is the holidays and I know you miss your little brother.” You question, leaning back to let your head rest on the grass.

He sighs, putting his arms behind his head as he lays down next to you.

“They aren’t my family, haven’t you heard? I’m a Potter through and through!” He jokes bitterly and you frown over at him placing a hand on his shoulder and rubbing it in circles soothingly.

“I know you are. But you’re also a black. You’re brother needs you sometimes too, he’s just too much of a stubborn bloke to admit it.” You murmur, rolling over onto your side so you’re able to face him.

He groans, looking up at the sky and avoiding your gaze as he runs his hand through his hair.

“I bloody well know that y/n. But my mother all but disinvited me to holidays at home anyway so what was I supposed to do.” He mutters, sitting up with his face buried in his hands.

You look at him in surprise, never having seen much of this side of him. You saw the teasing side, the playful and friendly side and the flirty side. You’d only ever seen the deeper, darker side of Sirius once in your life and it hurt like hell watching him torment himself with his own thoughts this way.

“Your mother is a bloody wench.” You growl, picking at pieces of grass with a scowl.

He chuckles bitterly, pushing his hair back with one swoop of his hand.

“Tell me about it, she sent me a letter, practically a howler actually, just to tell me I’m basically the biggest disgrace our family’s ever seen and that I’m basically not a real black.” He whispers.

Just as you go to speak, you’re interrupted by his sniffles. You glance over to see him fighting back tears, practically ready to start bawling right there.

“Hey, Siri. It’s ok to cry you know.” You promise, pulling him into a tight hug. He gets a whiff of your perfume and feels immediately more comforted and loved than he ever had with anyone else, even the boys.

“I don’t know why I’m even crying. It’s not as though I even wanted to be there that badly. I’m being too sensitive.” He musters, his shoulders coming to a slow but sure halt to their shaking.

“You are not. You have every reason to be emotional Sirius. It’s not a bad thing.” You promise, running your fingers through his hair absentmindedly.

He glances at you doubtfully, not totally sure whether you were right or not.

I wonder, when I cry into my hands

I'm conditioned to feel like it makes me less of a man.

“I won’t tell anyone.” You promise quietly, smiling sadly over at his tear streaked face.

He stays quiet, staring out at the falling snow wordlessly, not wanting to further embarrass himself in front of you.

“Are you ok Sirius?” You ask worriedly, scared to have not heard so much as a peep out of the usual smart talkers mouth.

He blinks back more tears, wiping his face a bit and giving you a weak smile.

“Never better. No ones ever really wanted me anyways, at least it’s a fact now.” He jokes, clearly trying to make you think he’s feeling better.

He goes to get up and away from you, not wanting you to see him lose control of his emotions again but the gentle feeling of your fingers brushing against his arm makes him stop, looking at you in curiosity, his breathing finally fully tranquil.

“What y/n?” He asks tiredly, running a hand through his hair yet again. For as long as you’d known him, that’d been his biggest tell to when he was upset.

“I want you.” You say softly, meeting his eyes shyly, your hand overtop of his. “And the potters want you. Remus and Peter do too.” You add shakily, your face blushing furiously, looking lighter thanks to the moonlight.

His heart warms at the tone in your voice, the way your voice softens so slightly. He didn’t know why you sounded so innocent, you never did usually but there was something different in the way you were speaking to him. It felt different to Sirius, but it was a good kind of different. It almost made him forget about all his troubles, the way you often did.

“And whoever you even start to think doesn’t is wrong. Like, incredibly, madly wrong.” You continue, making him laugh slightly and bringing a small smile to your lips. “Your family is wrong about you Sirius. Someday, even they’ll see that.” You promise, moving over and enveloping him in another hug.

And I wonder if some day you'll be by my side

And tell me that the world will end up alright.

As the two of you pull out of the hug and away from each other’s embrace, you immediately feel a lack of warmth, not just outside but in your heart. You miss holding him, and vice versa. But neither of you dares to vocalize your realizations.

Instead, you sit, staring up at the stars and grinning at each other.

Though Sirius still felt the pain of his family’s words inside, his overwhelming sense of comfort and admiration with you was overpowering the negative, making his smile bright and genuine.

“I’m sure James is having a good time with that letter.” He jokes, making you giggle warmly.

“Yes, I’m sure he finished it forever ago.” You pipe in, both of you falling into a small heap of laughter.

He stands, bending down slightly to reach for your hand, pulling you up off the ground.

Not expecting the amount of force he’d decided to use, you fall forward as you reach your feet, practically flying into Sirius’ arms. He holds them out just in the nick of time, catching you right as you land smack dab against his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso on instinct.

“You alright there y/l/n?” He asks, obviously flustered by the sudden proximity between the two of you.

“Y-Yeah.” You stutter, your face going a bright beet red.

He looks down at you for a second, your eyes meeting as he quietly moves his hand and gingerly moves strands of hair off of your face, pushing them delicately behind your ear.

To both your silent delight, your eyes never leave each other’s. Suddenly, the gap between your bodies is shutting until finally, your lips have made their way to being a mere inch from his own.

I wonder, I wonder...

103 notes · View notes

harrysweasleys · 4 years

Text

seekers keepers // h.p

Summary: Hi lovely! I'm not sure if request are still open but would you write a Harry Potter x reader where the reader is a Weasley and is Fred and George Triplet? reader has a crush on harry so they tease her about it (with him being younger and that) but she doesn't know that harry also has a crush on her and is just a cute oblivious mutual pining until they realize their feelings for each other? i really liked this idea in my head and i hope you liked it too, send you my love and best wishes!

Warnings: language? idk

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: requests are still closed but will eventually reopen! (sooner rather than later, don’t worry!) enjoy. xoxo

———————————

Being a triplet was hard. So very hard.

You loved your dear brothers, they were quiet a blast to be around, but there was just one tiny problem. People quite often never saw you as you. They saw you as Fred, George and Y/N. Your name always came with theirs, just like you did. You’d spent most of your life surrounded by these two boys — so much so that every friend they had was a friend of yours.

Not that you minded, especially when that friend was Lee Jordan, who was quite possibly the most optimistic, bubbly person you had ever met and easily became your best friend as well. No, that you didn’t mind. But what you did mind was that when your younger brother Ron befriended Harry Potter, Fred and George decided to pal him up as well.

Harry was lovely. Awkward, intelligent, and quick on his feet. Always had been, even as a young wizard with little to no knowledge of the magical world.

You had met him in your third year, when he was in his first. Ron had talked about him non-stop since then, really, so when Harry himself reached his third year, Fred and George decided the three of you would take him under your wing and pass on the legacy of the Marauders Map to the adventurous dark haired boy.

And in that moment, when Harry thanked you with everything he had, you knew you were done for. What was it that made you fall for him, you can’t pinpoint. But as the years progressed, Harry just got more and more intriguing. You had nearly lost your marbles completely when he was chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. When he had given your brothers his winnings, your heart completely forgot all the worry it had experienced in the past year and became filled with adoration.

But in your final year, when Harry had founded Dumbledore’s Army to retaliate against Umbridge’s evil reign, you knew in that moment that there was no chance you’d ever find someone as kindhearted as him. And if it was even possible, you feel for that boy even more.

The only thing holding you back from confessing to him was the fact that you were a triplet. Would Harry see you as just another Weasley? Would he see you as just Fred and George’s triplet? Was that all you were? He was the Chosen One, the boy who lived, quite possibly one of the most famous young wizards of all time. How could you be good enough for that?

Fred and George, naturally, knew about your crush from the get-go. Just like you knew about all of their crushes from the moment they bloomed as well. As a triplet, being so connected to your siblings creates this mental and emotional bond — you can easily tell how the others are feeling just by being near them.

They took every chance they could get to tease you about it. Like right now, for example, as the three of you walked down to the Quidditch pitch on a cloudy spring afternoon.

“Oi, there’s your man,” George nudged your shoulder, an annoyingly teasing grin plastered on his face as the three of you entered the Gryffindor tent, “You gonna go tell him you love him and all?”

“Shut your trap, George,” you snapped, glaring him down as you walked to your cubby, “Or should I tell a certain someone about your feelings? No? Don’t want that? Then shut it.”

George raised his hands in surrender, narrowing his eyes at your comment, “Fine, I’ll stop.”

Fred reached your other side, opening his own cubby and grabbing his robes, “Oi, Harry!” he called out, eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face, “C’mere.”

Your heart sunk as you glared at Fred, who was glaring right back at you with an unreadable expression. He was obviously doing this to rile you up, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working.

“What is it?” Harry jogged over, already donned in his Quidditch gear.

Fred looked between you and Harry, placing his hand on your shoulder and giving you a sarcastic smile, “Lovely sis here wanted to tell you something.”

You glared daggers at Fred. If looks could kill, you’d happily be watching him lying motionless on the floor right about now.

“What’s up, Y/N?” Harry asked, clearly nervous. You figured it was just due to the upcoming match. After all, it was for the Quidditch Cup. And it was against Slytherin.

“Uh—” you completely blanked as you turned your attention to Harry, “Just wanted to say good luck. The usual.”

Harry grinned, but it didn’t meet his eyes, “Right, thanks. You too.” He continued to look at you, nodding awkwardly as silence filled the tent.

You had never wished to be further away from the tent than in that moment. You could hear Fred and George stifling laughs in the background. Oh, how badly you wanted to turn around and jinx them.

“Uh, anyways,” you broke the silence, clearing your throat, “See you on the pitch.” Harry bid you a good game once more and took off in the opposite direction. You spun on your heel, turning to face your brothers with pure frustration.

“You two are right gits, y’know?” you glared, storming over with your hands placed on your hips.

“C’mon, we reckon you two just need a bit of a push,” George smirked, motioning a slight push with his hands, doing a terrible job at trying to pretend he was no longer laughing.

You shook your head, turning to your cubby and grabbing your robes, “Don’t blame me if I give you a slight push off a cliff, dear brother.”

They continued laughing as you walked into the changing booth, switching your comfortable, warm clothing for your Quidditch robes. You loved them, you really did, but they barely did the proper job of keeping you warm.

After changing and neatly folding your clothing, you exited the booth and stuffed your clothing in your cubby. You could hear the loud audience starting to fill the Quidditch stands, the heavy footsteps above echoing throughout the tent.

“Big game,” George leaned in beside you, a grin on his face, “Last chance to win the cup.”

“I know,” you grinned, forgetting your previous anger towards him and focusing on the game ahead, “We bloody well better win.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Fred appeared on your other side, also grinning like an idiot, “We’ve got your boyfriend on the team.”

Your eyes shot in his direction, throwing your hand over his mouth to prevent him from saying anything else. Luckily, you noticed, Harry was too busy talking to Angelina to notice the commotion.

“Oi, what did I say about pushing you off a cliff?” you spoke through gritted teeth, Fred’s wiggling eyebrows only adding fuel to the fire bubbling in your belly. You couldn’t stand them sometimes.

“Freddie, let her be,” George snickered, trying his best to be the better brother in the current situation, “Sometimes, you can’t help falling in love.”

“I’m fed up with you two,” you groaned, slapping a hand to your forehead and glaring back and forth between the two of them, “Not a word, you hear? I’ve had enough.”

They both nodded understandingly, “Fine, we’re sorry.”

You didn’t believe them, but you dropped the subject and focused on the sound of the cheering audience above you, Madam Hooch calling for the teams to join her on the field.

You followed Angelina out of the tent, the deafening cheers being amplified now that you were out in the open. Much to your pleasure, the clouds seemed to have vanished and the bright sunshine was beaming down on the pitch.

Angelina and the Slytherin Captain shook hands, and the match begun.

You flew up to your goalposts, taking your position as Keeper and letting your eyes rapidly scan the field in order to prevent Slytherin from getting on up on you.

Nearly half an hour into the game, Gryffindor was up by seventy points. It was thrilling, but you were beginning to get anxious. Harry was zooming around rapidly, stopping ever so often so scope out and search for the flicker of gold. But it didn’t appear as if he had seen it just yet.

You had found yourself struggling to focus, despite the pressure and weight that this particular match held. You could see Harry zooming by your goalposts out of the corner of your eye, smiling at your whenever you made eye contact. It was pleasantly frustrating, but you knew that the team would have your head on a stake if you didn’t stop Slytherin from scoring.

“Keep your eye on the Quaffle,” Fred’s voice nearly scared you off of your broom, zooming by you to knock the Bludger in the opposite direction.

You scowled, “And you keep yours on the Bludger, you bloody wanker!”

He chuckled as he flew off, leaving you be to continue your duty. Quidditch games were usually nerve wracking, but cup games were a whole new level.

You had won the cup back in your fifth year — one of the highlights of your time at Hogwarts — and you wanted nothing more than to complete your time here with another victory.

“Gryffindor scores!”

The crowd cheered, causing you to grin widely, shooting a thumbs up to Alicia Spinnet who was boasting proudly about her goal. You watched as Harry went over to congratulate her, wishing that you could fly over and be a part of the fun as well, but you sat by your goalposts and celebrated by yourself.

The game started up again, your team up in a decent lead, until you noticed Harry zoom down towards the ground in a determined dive, Malfoy following his move to try and catch the Snitch before him.

You had been so distracted by the neck to neck fight that you nearly let in a goal, luckily stopping it a second before it went in. You tossed the Quaffle to Angelina —

“Harry has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup!”

If the audience was loud before, it was nothing to how loud it became after the announcement. Your heart did a gleeful summersault and you left your post, rushing to join your team on the pitch grounds to celebrate.

Harry was beaming proudly, holding the Snitch high in the air. You couldn’t help the smile that rose to your lips as well as you watched him in his element, the pride radiating off of him and becoming contagious.

You felt someone nudge you from behind, causing you fall into Harry’s body with a slight ‘oomph.’

“Blimey, sorry, Harry,” you mumbled, pulling yourself off of him and hiding your face, knowing damn well it was either Fred or George who had knocked you over.

He grinned, clearly unbothered by your fall, “It’s no problem, Y/N. Congrats on the win!”

Your previous embarrassment faded quickly, “Yeah, same to you.”

Before you could register his movements, he pulled you into a bone crushing hug. All the coldness you had felt out and about in the chilly spring air completely vanished, warmth surrounded your body. Whether it was from your flushed state or his body, you couldn’t tell. But it was comfortable and you didn’t want him to pull away.

“Where’s our hug, mate?” Fred smirked, opening his arms wide and facing Harry, who pulled away from you hastily and flushed a light pink.

“He’s only jokin’,”George knocked Fred’s arms down, “How are we going to celebrate?”

You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes and trying to think of something, “We could just do a small party. The common room couch is calling my name.”

Harry nodded appreciatively, “I’m not in the mood for anything too big, guys. Common room party sounds brilliant to me.”

“Lame,” George scoffed, “But if it’s what our star wants, it’s what our star will get.”

Harry chuckled awkwardly at George calling him a ‘star.’ It took everything in you not to smack your brother over the head.

Sometimes, they knew just how to push every last button.

——

The Gryffindor common room found itself incredibly packed that evening. People were scattered across the couches and the empty corners, practically shouting to their friends over the blasting noise coming from all directions.

Mellow music was playing, curtesy of Lee who had stolen the record from McGonagall’s office that afternoon. Groups of friends laughed and cheered as more and more members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team piled in, each looking as pleased about the win as the rest of the House.

“Oi, Y/N, get your arse over here,” Lee shouted at you from the corner of the room. You groaned, walking over and raising an eyebrow. You loved Lee, but you were currently searching the room for any signs of Harry.

“Yeah?” you asked, not focusing on him.

Lee seemed to notice your distracted state, “Am I not interesting enough for you?” There was no hint of offence in his voice — he seemed intrigued by what you were focused on.

“Huh?” you turned your attention back to him, blinking rapidly to clear your mind, “No, sorry, I’m paying attention.”

He cocked his eyebrow, “Sure. You’re looking for Harry, aren’t you?”

Your eyes shot open and you were nearly certain your face was now completely drained of colour, “Bloody hell, how do you know about that?”

“Fred and George, of course,” he shrugged as if it was no big deal, “Those lads tell me everything.”

“Oh, I am going to jinx them into next year,” you grit your teeth, anger overpowering the embarrassment you were feeling, “They had no right—,”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better,” Lee cut you off with a chuckle, “They only told me so I could help set you up with him.”

You gaped at him, suddenly rendered speechless, “They — you — what?”

He placed his hand on your shoulder before pointing to where Harry was standing in the corner talking to Ron, “They wanted to set you two up.”

You turned away from Harry and faced Lee with wide eyes. You couldn’t believe that after all their teasing about your crush on Harry and the fact that he was both famous and younger than you, they still tried to set you up with him. And they had even gotten Lee involved. You weren’t sure if you were flattered or pissed off.

“Well, their plan hasn’t worked, has it?” you muttered quietly, “Pretty sure Harry just sees me as Y/N Weasley. His best friend’s older sister.”

Lee shook his head, “Do you not see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, turning your head back in Harry’s direction. You immediately locked eyes before he turned away quickly, cheeks becoming tinted light pink.

“Point proven,” Lee smirked, crossing his arms and leaning up against the wall behind him, “Oh, here they come.”

You were about to ask who he was talking about, but your question was answered when Fred and George appeared at your side, holding a box of products that they were bound to test out on unsuspecting students.

You grinned to yourself, already excited to see if the products would go as planned. The three of you wanted to open a joke shop after graduating. However, you felt yourself too occupied by Harry’s presence to want to be involved with their shenanigans tonight.

“So, dearest sister,” Fred winked at you, “Charming young Harry is sitting there waiting for you, why don’t you go join him?” He nudged you in the ribs, causing you to glare at him.

“Sod off, would you?” you groaned, nudging him right back, a lot more forcefully. The last thing you wanted was Harry to overhear. Sure, it was loud in the common room and you could barely hear Fred who was right next to you, but maybe he’d hear. You could never be too safe.

“Y/N,” George placed his hands on both your shoulders, turning you to face him, “Go speak to him. We’ve been watching you pine for the lad nearly two years now. It won’t do you any good to sit back and let him be. Just go chat with him, yeah?”

You thought over his words, hating the fact that he was right. You wanted to leave Hogwarts with no regrets, ready to live your life to the complete fullest. You wouldn’t be able to do that if you regretted never speaking to Harry when given the chance.

On one hand, if Harry felt the same, you’d get to spend your last month here with him. On the other hand, if he didn’t feel the same, you’d only have a month left before you’d only get to see him on the rare occasion.

The pro’s outweighed the con’s, really.

“Fine,” you gave in, ignoring how the two boys grinned knowingly, shooting each other a thumbs up. You glanced back in the direction that Harry had been previously standing, only to notice that Ron and Hermione were the only ones there.

You walked over, collecting your nerves, and tapped your other brother on the shoulder, “Ron, where’d Harry go?”

Ron shot you a quizzical look before pointing right behind you, “He’s right there.”

You spun around on the spot, heart caught in your throat as you stared into Harry’s eyes. He was awkwardly smiling at you, fidgeting his feet and looking between you and Ron.

“Hey, Y/N,” Harry nodded, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. You thought he looked nervous, but you couldn’t figure out why he would be. If anything, you should be the one nervously looking down at your feet, not him.

The only reason you weren’t feeling overwhelmed was because of what Lee has just told you. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance Harry was attracted to you as well.

“Hiya, Harry,” you grinned, pushing your hopeful thoughts out of your mind, “Having a good time?”

You flushed at your embarrassing question, but he seemed to slip right past it, “Yeah, I am. I hope you are too.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great,” you nodded, pursing your lips. The tension was unbearable. You could practically feel Ron and Hermione cringing behind you, and if you weren’t staring dead on at Harry, you’d probably be cringing too.

“Do you uh, want to go somewhere more quiet?” Harry asked, his eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and his own feet.

Without thinking, you quickly replied, “Yes.”

He seemed taken aback by your speedy reply, but he brushed it off and nodded his head up the stairs, starting to walk up. You followed suit, still ignoring the grins that Lee and your triplet brothers were shooting your way.

Once you two reached the opening at the top of the stairs, where it was still loud but reasonably easier to hear properly, he took a seat and motioned for you to do the same.

Under the light of the window, Harry’s eyes had never looked so blue and it was taking your breath away.

You sat next to him, eyes practically glued to him, and smiled nervously, “So...” you trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“I actually want to talk to you about something,” he sighed, looking at you so intently you swore he could probably see into your soul, “I uh, have heard that you may or may not take a fancy to me.”

You had never wished to be dead more than when he said those words. Had your two idiot brothers spilled to Harry how you felt about him? Had they told Ron — who couldn’t keep a secret for life of him — that you had a crush on his best friend? You didn’t think you were that obvious. How could he know?

You ducked your face, hiding the growing blush, and cursed everyone you knew. The pounding in your chest picked up exponentially, uneasiness settling through your whole body.

“Uh — I’m sorry,” you said the only thing you could think of, wanting to smack yourself over the forehead.

Harry’s eyes widened, “No, don’t be sorry. I only brought it up because I—,” he stopped to take a deep breath, closing his eyes, “I actually fancy you too.”

Your heart suddenly stopped completely. Was Lee right? Had Harry actually felt this way about you the whole time?

“You — you do?” you asked, clearly starstuck. You didn’t know what to say. What did people usually say when their crush told them they liked them too?

“Yeah,” he chuckled nervously, running his hand through his hair and shaking it slightly, “I couldn’t find the right time to tell you and I thought I might as well just do it.”

It was as if your entire body had gone numb. It made no sense, but at the same time, you didn’t want to overthink it. He liked you back, and that was the best news you could have received. Despite winning the Quidditch cup, this here was the best feeling.

“I’m glad you did,” you grinned, your voice coming off shaky as the nerves continued rambling through your body, “I probably wouldn’t have said anything, to be honest.”

He chuckled, “So, uh, do you want to go to Hogsmeade together next weekend?”

You nodded before you could even properly process his words, “I’d love to.”

If it was any quieter, you could have sworn you heard George’s forced whisper from down the stairs saying, “We’re the best matchmakers.”

Grinning like an idiot, you rested your head against the wall and continued to gaze adoringly at Harry, who you were now going on a date with next weekend.

There could be no better feeling.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shot #harry potter one shots #harry potter x reader #harry potter reader insert #harry potter fic #harry potter fics #harry potter fanfic

225 notes · View notes