#no prompt just me ranting for 2k words

[ttturnitup]

as it turns out | kwon jiyong x reader

summary: You and Jiyong hate each other’s guts (even if Seunghyun says otherwise). When things get out of hand, there’s only one solution to the drama.

word count: 2k

warnings: minor miscommunication/lack of communication , angst

author’s note: This fic was written for day 12 of the BigBang April challenge! Not sure if I technically met the prompt, but I guess that’s why they call it a prompt? In any case, I hope you get some enjoyment out of this fic! And massive thanks to my girl @loveesiren for all the feedback and help whilst finishing this up!

“And then he had the audacity to call my outfit bad. My outfit! As if he isn’t clashing colours and prints just because he can.”

Seunghyun laughs, topping up your wine glass before settling back on the couch.

“Did it ever occur to you that he’s doing it to get your attention?”

“I don’t want him to have it.”

“Your constant rants say otherwise, Y/n.”

You glare at Seunghyun, grabbing a pillow from behind you and holding it up as a threat. He quickly holds a hand up in surrender, the other moving his wine glass away from the couch. A moment passes before you lower the pillow, satisfied that your friend is properly cowed.

“I just don’t get what his problem with me is.”

“He doesn’t have a problem with you.”

“Seunghyun, last week he walked out of the studio as soon as I stepped inside. That kinda feels like he has a problem with me.”

Seunghyun winces. It’s impossible to deny your statement; he was there to witness the whole thing, after all. But still, he presses on, trying to convince you.

“Okay. I’ll admit that wasn’t his best move. But, Y/n, I promise you he doesn’t have a problem with you.”

“No, he just hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“The day I believe that is the day you stop loving space - never going to happen.”

You hear your friend sigh, and you gear up for another argument. It wouldn’t be the first time; you understood as his best friend, Seunghyun had a better understanding of him, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to believe him. Actions speak louder than words and all that. But Seunghyun doesn’t push, instead pivoting to asking about your latest role. You’re grateful, and the rest of your wine night continues without bloodshed - or a ruined couch.

————————————————————————————————

The thing was, there was a time a few years ago where you knew he didn’t hate you. There was a time where you might have considered Kwon Jiyong a friend. Being trainees at the same time forged a connection that few understood. Being leaders of your respective groups only deepened that bond. The long hours, the pressure, the uncertainty of what the future held - all of it was was the focus of stolen late night conversations, in the moments between YG breathing down your necks and getting whatever sleep you could. It was during that time that you got to know the person behind the G-Dragon persona; it was then that you grew fond of Jiyong.

The groups debuted, and that connection only seemed to strengthen. You remember being in the crowd, cheering loudly as BigBang took to the stage for the first time. You can recall Jiyong and the others swarming you and your group, hugging you tightly after your first performance. For a year, your groups chased each other, prompting a friendly rivalry, pushing each other to do better. It was fun, exciting.

But as BigBang continued to grow, your group started to flounder. You worked hard, trying to fix every problem that came up. Better choreography, extra vocal lessons, thinking up brand new concepts. Nothing worked. Your group disbanded, your friendships frayed from the pressure you put on them. While you still loved music, it hurt to see it all fall apart, and so you pivoted towards acting.

You kept in touch with Jiyong, determined not to lose any other friendships. You felt the distance between you growing, but you pinned it down towards your busy schedules. Being invited to star in their latest music video felt like a sign, and so you jumped at the opportunity. Spending time with Jiyong, being able to reaffirm that connection, while also being back in the scene you used to love so dearly? It felt too good to be true.

Filming went longer than anyone expected. Everyone was at their limits, tired and grumpy, yet Jiyong kept pushing. You recognised his need for perfection; you had it, too. It played its part in your group’s disbandment, and so you spoke up, hoping to diffuse some of the tension.

“Maybe try having Daesung move over here?”

He turned to look at you, frowning. “I’ve got it, thanks.”

“Will you at least give it a try? I think you’re overlooking things because you’re tired.”

“I’m not.”

“You are! We all are! You don’t need to be G-Dragon all the time, you know.”

“I don’t need help from a failed idol!”

Jiyong might as well have slapped you for how much his words hurt. You were no stranger to his outbursts when he was stressed, but they had never been this personal, and they were always followed with an apology. Not this time. All he offered was a dumbfounded stare, as if he couldn’t believe what he said, either. You turned away from him, rapidly gathering your belongings.

“My scenes are done for today, right? I’ll be back tomorrow. If you need me, I’m sure G-Dragon here can figure something out.”

You walked out, refusing to look back.

————————————————————————————————

Staying friends with BigBang meant crossing paths with him. Some days, you could get by with giving him the cold shoulder. Most of the time, though, you traded insults at best, and had yelling matches at worst. The others did their best to diffuse the tension, but sometimes it spilled over with no way to stop it. It wasn’t fair, and you knew it. You didn’t want to give them up over whatever this rivalry with G-Dragon, because that’s what it was. But either way Jiyong? That was harder to determine. There were moments where the boy you grew fond of came out: when he was relaxed with his friends before he saw you, when something he had been puzzling over worked out, when your fighting was more playful and brought a different kind of heat.

You wished that you weren’t jealous of the boys, but you were. You wanted Jiyong, but all you had - all you knew how to do - was fighting with him.

————————————————————————————————

“I’m telling you the blocking doesn’t work.”

“And I’m telling you that it will. I know what I’m doing!”

“Oh, do you, G-Dragon? Who has more experience with film shoots?”

“Me, because this isn’t a film shoot!”

“Enough!”

Seunghyun’s voice is louder than you’ve ever heard it, and you know you’ve gone too far. Taking a step back, you’re startled by how close you and Jiyong had gotten during your argument. It leaves you off-kilter, but you push the feeling down. It was just to get in his face, to push his buttons and get him pissed off; that’s your story if anyone asked. Foolproof.

You turn to apologise to Seunghyun (and Daesung and Youngbae), but a hand held up in front of you stops you in your tracks. The oldest member looks unimpressed. You feel chastised, and Seunghyun hasn’t even said a word. You don’t look over, but you know Jiyong is feeling the same.

“Jiyong, Y/n, with me.”

Seunghyun’s voice left no room for argument. You follow behind, quiet, not wanting to upset your friend further. You hoped that wherever he was taking you, you’d have a chance to apologise properly, to fix the mess that you had a hand in making. The silence as the three of you made your way down the hall was overbearing, but you didn’t dare break it.

It was only a couple of minutes later when Seunghyun came to a stop, and you almost crash into him, taken aback by the suddenness of it. You look around, confused. You’re nowhere special; in fact, you’d probably describe it as nowhere at all. Just a hallway with a door in front of you. He opens the door, and before you can protest, he’s pushing you both inside. The door closes, and the click echoes through the tiny room.

“Kiss each other, or kill each other, I don’t care. But this door isn’t opening until you sort your shit out.”

You can just about hear the footsteps as Seunghyun walks away. You don’t even bother trying to check the door; you know without a doubt that Seunghyun wasn’t lying.

You try to create space between you and Jiyong, not that there’s much to create. Your eyes cast around the room, finally acknowledging that your friend shoved you into a supply closet. Bastard.

Minutes pass, though it could have been hours for all you knew. Silence stretches between you, both too stubborn to make the first move. It would almost be like admitting defeat.

More time passes. Seunghyun hasn’t returned. You’re about to plan a jailbreak when Jiyong finally snaps.

“This is your fault, you know.”

“What did you just say?”

“The room’s not that big. I know you heard me.”

“No, I did. I want you to say it again.”

He scoffs, as if he can’t believe your attitude. You can’t believe his.

“This is your fault, telling me what to do, not showing me respect-”

It’s your turn to scoff, and it’s loud enough to interrupt him.

“Respect? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You call Daesung oppa and he’s younger than you! You’ve never called me by any titles!”

“Yeah, because he’s actually deserving of one!”

“And I’m not?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told.”

A finger jabs into his chest with enough force to make him rock back in his heels. You crowd his space, just like before.

“This is not about your goddamned ego right now.”

“Why shouldn’t it be? I’m G-fucking-Dragon!”

“You don’t get it! I don’t like G-Dragon. I never fucking cared about G-Dragon! I cared about Jiyong!”

Your confession echoes throughout the supply closet, accompanied by the sounds of heavy breathing, the weight of it threatening to crush you. You can’t move away. You try to at least avert your gaze, but Jiyong’s confused noise draws your attention. Your heart hurts at his expression.

“You… what?”

You can’t look at him. Your gaze drops. There’s an apology on your lips, but what comes out is, “I care about you. I always have.”

There’s no response.

It’s weird, being in silence, when you were so used to the fighting. Jiyong always had a comeback, always knew just what to say. Often, it would only serve to piss you off. Wasn’t that a little bit messed up to miss that?

Your eyes started to sting, and before you could stop it, tears were falling down your face. You can hear Jiyong curse, clearly uncertain on how to help you. Years of animosity and buried feelings have created a chasm between you that he doesn’t know how to cross.

There’s so much unsaid. So much hurt that he can’t ever take back. He’s confused and scared and apprehensive, but he can at least do something in the moment. He just hopes it doesn’t backfire.

Slowly, as if he’s worried about hurting you, he wraps his arms around you, only hesitating for a brief moment before pulling you into a tight hug. It’s embarrassing how the sobs seem to ease immediately, but you find that you don’t care. You lean into his embrace. It was everything you never let yourself of. Just for a moment, you could pretend that Jiyong cared about you, too.

You could pretend that the kiss he pressed to the top of your head was real.

challenge taglist; @wcnderlnds, @ldydeath, @loveesiren, @bluesunss, @emmiesoverthemoon, @eru-vande, @berfgrimm, @gdinthehouseee, @infinetlyforgotten, @petersasteria, @currentloser, @makeitworse, @sherxoo, @aizshallnotbefound @breakmeoff♥

[jasmines-library]

Lost and found.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 20. Prompt: “You will regret touching them.” Fandom: Batfam

Summary: After falling into a trap, you are captured by Scarecrow and exposed to his fear toxin. When your older brothers arrive to help you, your fear gets the better of you.

Warnings: Fear, disappointment, beating, hurt.

Word count: 2K

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You hadn’t been living with Bruce that long. A few years. If that. You were the baby of the family, younger than Damian and in some ways you supposed he resented you for it; always narrowing his eyes at you when passing him the hallway. You often felt estranged from the rest of the boys, never fully understanding their inside jokes or nightly routines. You never felt as though you belonged despite the fact that the older boys had tried to make you feel welcome. 

The one person you had managed to connect with was Alfred. When your time wasn’t occupied by training or patrol it was often spent curled up in the study with a book and excitedly explaining it to him. Reading was one of your passions; it allowed you to escape the harsh realities of the cruel world and alfred was glad to hear you rant, it often resulted in him mirroring the smile on your face. 

It was a late autumn night when the call came in. You were lounging on the window seat watching the rain batter against the glass. Your brothers were out on patrol and you were the only one left home, so you floated over to the phone, answering it and bringing it to your ear. 

“Hello?”

There was static on the other end of the line, followed by a shuffling. And then came the voice of a child. “Please… please help me.”

You began to pull on your suit, listening closely to the girl speaking over the phone. 

“My friend she-”

“Calm down.” you told her. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”

She rattled off her location through sobs. “Please hurry.”

“It’s gonna be okay.” You reassured her. 

Once you had calmed the girl, you slipped out of the exit of the batcave and began to race through town. It was a quiet night. The rain had pushed many people inside, so the lack of people on the streets really threw you off, but you decided to warn your brothers where you were going, just in case. 

“Nightwing?” You asked over the comms, hoping that he wasn’t too occupied to answer. 

“Raven?” He wrinkled his nose. “What are you doing out?”

“A call came in. A young girl said her friend was cornered by a group of armed criminals. I’ve got it handled, but I thought I'd give you a heads up.”

“Copy that Raven.” 

The line went silent again as you continued to push your way into the city until you reached the location that the scared girl gave you over the line. Only, there was no one in sight. You called out into the darkness but there was no reply. And then, there was a sharp prick to the side of your neck. 

~

When you awoke, your hands and hands were bound together by old rope that scratched at your skin. The floor was dank and dusty and your mask had been torn from your face. You could feel a small nic along your eyebrow, and your entire body ached. 

Without full use of your hands, you struggled to sit up when you noticed the figure leaning against the wall across the room. Tall and masked with a straw hat, he loomed over you, observing you from afar. You used your legs to inch yourself away from the humanoid figure, but he outpaced you, squatting down in front of you and trailing a gloved hand along your jaw.

“Hiya little birdie.”

“Get off of me.” You spat.

Scarecrow tutted, but removed his hand. “I’m glad to see you. You see, I've been watching you for some time. I’ve seen how miserable  you’ve been. And I've been waiting for a chance to get you alone. I have to say though, it was much easier than I anticipated.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

The villain chided. “Mm, I have something more fun in mind. You see, I've been experimenting with something new. Well, new and improved. You see, my old fear toxin, it was good but you couldn’t really feel. If you know what I mean? So I did some experimenting and I've finally created something I've just been dying to test out. So I figured, why not have some fun while I'm at it?”

“They’re coming for me.” You told him with narrowed eyes. “And you’re gonna be a dead man?”

He tilted his head, resting his hand on the door before he stepped out and shut it completely. “Are they?”

He bolted the door shut, leaving you in the dimly lit room where a thick, green smog began to billow through the vents. You tried to back away from the smoke, but it surrounded you, cascading down all four walls. You took a deep breath, taking in all of the air you could, but it didn’t last long, eventually you couldn’t stand the burning in your lungs and you were forced to inhale the substance, choking as it filled your lungs. 

When the green began to fade away, vanishing into the air, you were left alone in the silence. Though it wasn’t long before the door was broken down by heavy pounding, and the masked face of your brother burst through the door. 

“Y/N”

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Jason. Oh thank god, I thought you weren’t going to come. He told me that you none of you would and I-”

“Shut up.”

You stilled. “What?”

“I said shut up!” He kicked you hard to the ribs eliciting a yelp from you. 

“Jason…?”

“God, are you as stupid as you look? Shut it.” Jason kicked you harder, each one growing in intensity and followed by a snarky remark. You tucked your head to your chest, pressing your hands tightly to your ears until eventually, Jason vanished into a cloud of green and you were plunged back into emptiness. 

“Oh god… Y/N.”

It was Tim’s voice, shaky as he raced towards you. His hands gripped your arms as he forced them away from your ears. You half glanced up at him, doing a double take when you saw the look set upon his face. It was tender, but laced with worry. You wanted to reach out into his arms, but you were hesitant. 

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” He bent down and removed the frayed rope from your wrists, you rubbed them. Tim then swung his arm around your shoulder to help you up, but you only made it a few steps towards the door when he flung you over his shoulder, sending you plummeting to the floor with a sickening crack as your skull collided with the ground. Your head throbbed as blood dripped from the crack that had opened in the back of your head. 

“Silly girl.” Tim laughed. “You really think we care enough to come and help you? After you were foolish enough to fall for his trap? You always mess things up Y/N. You’re a burden. Nothing more. Bruce’ll be glad to finally be rid of you.”

“Tim, Please-"

He reeled his fist back to land the final blow. You scrambled backwards, raising your arm above your face to protect yourself, but no pain came. And Time was gone. 

Fat, hot tears were rolling down your cheeks by the time that Damian entered the room. He narrowed his eyes at you like he normally did. They were so full of hate. You closed your eyes, biting down on your trembling lip and sinking against the wall. 

“Get up.” He demanded, voice thick with venom. 

You squeezed your eyes shut even tighter. 

“Damian… please don’t. I don’t need to hear how-”

“I hate you.”

It was only three words, but they cut right through you like a bullet. 

“I hate you.” He gritted out. “You ruined everything. We were fine without you. We were happy. And then you came along and you- you took all of that away. You’re a disappointment. And I hate you.”

Damian didn’t move to hurt you, but you supposed in some ways that's what hurt the most. Not the pain and the beating, no. That’s not what you were scared of. It was disappointing your family. You grimaced as Damian left, waiting for the cycle to start again.  

~~~ 

Damian didn’t think he had ever ran faster in his life. His boots slapped against the concrete as he raced alongside his older brothers. He had never been more scared than at the lack of your voice over the comms. The four of them had been trying you for hours but had had no such luck. That was until Alfred managed to snag your location on the computer. And so the four of them ran. 

Dick’s heart thundered against his ribs. He feared what Scarecrow had done to you. He had heard the stories; witnessed the horrors. But he couldn’t bear to fathom what your mind would conjure up. You had seen too much. 

When he pushed his way into the warehouse, it was dark. And silent. The four of them kept their eyes peeled for a sign of anything, but there was no sign of you or Scarecrow. That was until Damian spotted the frame of the door poking out from behind a metal cabinet. It took two of them to haul the heavy piece of furniture away. It squealed awfully as it scraped across the floor. When they pushed the door open they had to squint to see you hidden in the corner of the room. Your eyes were wide and you were hyperventilating at the sight of them.

“Y/N?”

“No, no…” You shook your head, trying to back further into the wall when he took a step towards you. 

Jason tried too, but it only worked you up more. 

“Not all of you…please. Please…”

Jason knelt down beside you, reaching to touch you gently, but you flinched away.

“It’s not going to work.” A voice laughed out from the doorway. 

The brother’s whipped round to face the scarecrow. 

“What have you done to her?” Tim spat. 

He chuckled deeply. “She’s been exposed to my new fear toxin. See, I don’t know what she’s  been seeing but whatever it is, you guys are clearly an important part of it.”

Tim gritted his teeth. “You are going to regret touching her.”

They surged forwards, pinning him towards the wall. He fought back, but was no match for the anger-fueled vigilantes. When he slumped to the ground, they were tasked with the even more challenging job of getting you out. But when they moved towards you, tears rolled fatly down your face as you sobbed. 

“Please…” You shook. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t hurt me please.”

Damian froze. “What?  

“You’ve done enough…please.” 

You flinched as the youngest of your brothers laid a hand on your shoulder. 

“Y/N? It’s us. We’re real, I promise.”

You shook your head. “...no”

“We’re not gonna hurt you, kid.”

“You already have…”

Their hearts stopped simultaneously and Dick swallowed thickly. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

Everything went black as his fist collided with your head.

~~~

You sat up abruptly. You were back in the safety of your own room, tucked away in your bed. Although you were more aware of what had happened, you couldn’t shake the fear that rolled over you. But you weren’t alone when you woke up. You were surrounded by a sea of familiar faces.

“Y/N?” Dick asked when he noticed your eyes were open.

“Yeah.” You murmured groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You just shrugged meekly.

“Oh y/n/n we were so worried.” Damian said. His tenderness was foreign. 

“What did you see?” Dick asked hesitantly. 

“All of you. Disappointed in me.”

“Oh kid.” Tim looked at you with sad eyes. “We would never be disappointed in you. We love you so, so much. And we couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“But I fell for his trap. I-”

“Uh Uh. You did what you thought was right. How were you supposed to know?”

Again, you just shrugged. 

“We’re proud of you, little wing. So proud.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 19 ⛤ DAY 21 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[marauder-misprint]

Hii!! I just wanna say, ur writing is genuinely AMAZING. Like, actually tear inducing, feet-kicking, giggling-in-bed kind of amazing. This is my first ever request so bear with me 😔: for your 200 followers celebration (congrats by the way), I was wondering if you could do the prompt 10: “Too good for you? Don’t be ridiculous—they don’t deserve you.” Where reader is in a kinda toxic relationship and Remus, her bestie makes her realize this while also realizing her feelings for him?? Idk if this makes sense I’m sryyy 😭. Totally fine if u don’t feel comfortable doing it, or are to busy! Ignore my ineligible ranting, I for ur I hope ur doing well! Have a good rest of ur day/night!! :)

- 🌅

Thank you!!! This was so much fun to write ♡ Hope you enjoy it

Fireside Conversations

Remus Lupin x fem!Gryffindor!reader

2k words

cw: fluff, toxic relationship

The Gryffindor Common Room was quieter than usual. Which is why everyone there heard your disgruntled groan followed by you basically yelling, “Would you just listen!” as the portrait opened and closed. Peter was shaking his head as he approached the rest of the Marauders where they gathered on the couches by the fire. 

“They are fighting again,” he says as he sits down next to James. He didn’t need to say who. They knew. 

“That’s, what, third time this week?” James asks.

“At least,” Peter responds.

Remus stands up, looking at the portrait hole concerned.

“Moony, don’t,” Sirius says with a warning tone. “She doesn’t want us meddling, remember?”

“I’m not going to meddle,” he says unconvincingly. He wasn’t planning on meddling, rather eavesdropping, which in his defense, you never said he couldn’t do. He found it was easier to comfort you when he knew exactly what the bastard you called your boyfriend did this time. That was why he was going to listen… and to step in or meddle if things got out of hand. 

Remus walks over to the portrait and cracks it open the tiniest bit. He cast a muffling charm behind him so that your voice wouldn’t carry too far into the common room and then hoped you and your boyfriend would be oblivious to the ever-so-slightly open portrait.

“You need to stay away from them,” Remus hears your boyfriend tell you. “They’re using you to get into your pants.”

You scoff. “You’re being ridiculous! I’ve been friends with them since first year, and that’s all we are! We’re friends. Totally platonic. It’s you I like and that’s all that matters!”

“I know you like me. It’s them I don’t trust. So you need to stay away from them.”

“But I trust them. Isn’t that enough?”

“No, it’s really not. I think you’re blinded by them being in Gryffindor with you. You can’t trust everyone in your house, darling.”

“But they’ve earned it.”

“Listen, listen, I’m just worried for you. You spend so much time with them that it feels like you’re putting space between us. I think they’re trying to break us up.”

“They wouldn’t!” you protest. “And even if they were, I wouldn’t let that happen.” 

“Baby, just listen to me, okay? I wouldn’t steer you wrong, would I?”

You sigh and say in a mumble, “No, you wouldn’t.”

Remus lets the painting close quietly and he returns to the couches looking more grumpy than usual. 

“What’s birdbrain up to now?” Sirius asks. 

“Apparently the four of us are trying to seduce her.”

The three boys burst out laughing, a tiny snippet of the rambunctious noise that usually filled the common room. The grumpy look did not leave Remus’ face. It remains as you enter the common room, still looking upset and rubbing your eyes. You give the boys the briefest of glances before looking away and beelining it to the girls’ dorms. 

“Of course he made her cry,” Remus scowls. 

---

He loves me. I love him. He loves me. I love him. 

You kept repeating that in your head. Your boyfriend just cared for you, that’s all. He just cared so, so much. Almost too much. Was that something to fault him over? Goodness, you didn’t want to.

He loves me. I love him. 

Maybe if you said it enough, it would soothe your uneasiness. You’re laying in bed. Sleep was refusing to take you so you toss and turn, trying to make the least amount of noise with your rustling sheets. You really didn’t want to wake Lily or Marlene or Mary and have to have a heart-to-heart about why you can’t sleep. 

He loves me. I love him. 

Eventually, enough is enough. You climb out of bed, grab your robe and go to the common room. You almost laugh when you see Remus already sitting by the fire. From the way he’s sitting, he most definitely has a book in his lap. You stand quietly next to an armchair near him.

“Mind if I join you?” you ask softly. 

He jumps slightly but smiles as soon as he recognizes your voice and looks up. 

“Please,” he breathes, gesturing to the chair you’re standing by. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You nod as you tuck your legs underneath you.

“What’s eating your mind, love?”

“Nothing. Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was so knowing yet gentle. And he always could tell when you lied and he refused to tell you what your tell was. 

You sigh. “Can you love someone too much?”

Remus doesn’t respond right away; he doesn’t know how to. Did you love your boyfriend too much? Did he love you too much? Was it a good thing or a bad thing to love too much? 

You look at the fire, waiting for Remus to answer. You don’t mind that he isn’t answering right away. You like that he’s thinking about it, choosing his words carefully. It was one of the things you loved about him.

“I… I don’t think you can love the right person too much. Your love won’t be too much or too little when it’s right.”

When you look at Remus, he’s already looking at you with so much concern and love in his eyes. You rest your head on your hands.

“When did you get to be so wise, Lupin?”

He shrugs. “One of the perks of being an old man, I guess.”

You sigh. You think Remus looks very cozy in his sweater and pyjama bottoms. There was something about him that always seemed cozy and comfortable. Being with him was one of the places you felt most at ease. 

You need to stay away from them. 

Your boyfriend’s words echo in your mind. It makes you want to cry. You want him to be the right person, but you couldn’t stay away from the Marauders, most of all Remus. He was your best friend. What if your boyfriend was the right person for you but you weren’t his?

“I… I don’t think I’m enough for him,” you mumble. “He’s too good for me.”

Remus stares at you dumbfounded. 

“Too good for you? Don’t be ridiculous — he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Remus-” you start to say. 

“No, darling, listen. I know it’s not my place and I’m not trying to meddle, but he’s not right for you. He told you you couldn’t cheer for your own house’s Quidditch when we played Ravenclaw and he’s not even on the team.”

“He just really wanted us to be cheering for the same team.”

“He told you to stay away from us.”

Your face hardens and your lips form a thin line.

“You heard that?”

He nods and says, “Your boyfriend shouldn’t be so insecure in your relationship. He should trust you to be around other people, around your friends. Especially around your friends who you’ve known for years.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But-”

Remus cuts you off again. “No buts, darling. Have you ever given him a reason to doubt your feelings for him?”

“No.”

“You give him all your love and that’s how he responds? You don’t deserve that kind of treatment. We’re not dumb, we know how much you’ve been fighting. If he can’t see how lovely, strong, loyal, smart, perfect you are, how devoted you can be when you care for someone, that’s on him. It’s on him for not trusting you, not seeing how you are more than capable of handling yourself and able to come back to the ones who care for you most.”

You close your eyes. Tears are building and you really don’t want them to fall. You know if you start crying, you won’t be able to stop. Something about Remus being right struck a nerve. You should be enough for your boyfriend. If Remus was able to see all of this in you, why couldn’t he? 

You feel a hand on the side of your face. You open your eyes to Remus crouching in front of you, one hand holding your face and the other placed next to your leg, helping him maintain his balance. 

“I know you said not to meddle, but that’s truly what I think, sweetheart. I think that relationship isn’t worth the arguing. I think it’s run its course.”

You feel the tears beginning to fall as you nod. “I-I, I think so too.”

“Oh, darling,” he coos as he pulled you into a hug.

You let the tears fall more freely as Remus holds you tight to his chest. He doesn’t shush you. He just holds you, softly rubbing your back. You could always be vulnerable with him. He understood in a way that you felt no one else did. He never judged you. He was your safe place. 

“Rem?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Mhmm?”

“Will you be there when I end things?”

“You want me there?”

You nod. “I won’t back down if you’re there.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

---

He was there for you. He was there for you when you broke up with your boyfriend. He was there for you when he tried to convince you that breaking up was a mistake. Remus was there for you when you broke down crying later. He never left your side. And you liked it. You had your own traveling safe place in Remus. 

With each passing day, being without your now-ex was easier. Being with Remus was easy. 

But you weren’t with Remus. The more you considered it, the more you wished you were. He already treated you better than your ex did. He never made you feel like you were too much or not enough. You knew he trusted you more than life itself. You didn’t dare say anything though. What if you ruined the friendship? What if you said something and lost your four best friends in one swoop? 

It really hits you one night, a few weeks after the breakup. Today had been nothing special. Just classes and studying in the library with Remus. But it had felt so special and every time your hands accidentally touched, you swear you felt fireworks. 

I love him. … Does he love me?

Why did you always think about things when you were in bed? Once again, you’re tossing and turning. You groan quietly as you get up. You know you won’t get sleep. 

This time, you do laugh when you see Remus already in the common room, sitting by the fire with a book as usual.

“Do you ever sleep?” you ask with a laugh as you join him on the couch.

You rest your head on his shoulder and look at the pages of his book.

“Usually during History of Magic and from three to seven.”

You giggle and Remus turns his head to look at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. 

“What’s on your mind tonight, sweetheart?”

You don’t respond right away, the worry of ruining a perfectly good friendship festering inside of you. 

“Do you fancy anyone?” you ask quietly.

His eyes go wide and he chuckles awkwardly. He looks away. 

Oh, he so does.

“Erm, yeah. I do…”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Do you think she’s the one? The right one, I mean.”

“I’d like to think so. Only been in love with her since third year.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s my safe place. More than James, more than Sirius, more than Peter. She’s the loveliest person I know. She’s brilliant. Beautiful. Loyal. Perfect.” He pauses. “She has her flaws but doesn’t everyone? I mean, I got my furry little problem.”

Without thinking, you say, “You’re my safe place.” 

He looks back at you, the softest look in his eyes.

“I am?” he whispers. 

“You are.”

“So we’re each other’s safe place, huh.”

She’s my safe place. 

The realization hits you. Your face heats as you stare into those warm brown eyes. 

“You think I’m beautiful?”

He hums in response. There’s a silent conversation happening between you as you maintain eye contact. You nod. He places his hand underneath your chin and lifts your face. He leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away in case he misunderstood you. You don’t. You lean in too, meeting his lips with your own. The fireworks you felt when your hands accidentally brushed paled in comparison to when he kissed you. The hands were barely a spark and this was a firework show's finale. 

Maybe Remus really was your right person. 

[butterflyprompts]

Crackfic Prompt Ideas ಠ_ಠ

(a mix of romantic, platonic, and solo crackfic ideas! as always these are free to use whenever, wherever, credit not even necessary. but, if you do write with these, do feel free to share it with me! i would love to see it! :D as a reminder, i also take prompt requests!)

Character A steals Character B's snacks, and now they must suffer the consequences.

Character A has ran out of money. Now they must find a job, preferably minimum wage.

Bonus: They discover that Character B also ran out of money, and is their new manager.

Character A is sold to One Direction (Or, if the series you're writing for has a fictional band, have them be sold to it instead!)

Character A gets isekai'd. Are they the overpowered protagonist? The self-insert mary sue character? The series' new punching bag? Great for crossovers!

Write your favorite bitterly divorced couple after the first alimony payment. What does Character A do with it? What does Character B think about the situation? Make it funny, make it angsty, up to you! Crack and angst is a tag on AO3, after all. Use it!!!

Character A hosting a post-divorce party, only to have to sheepishly announce during the festivities that they actually have gotten back together with B.

Writing exercise: Stretch out your blorbo struggling to open a bag of chips for as long as you can. I'm talking 2k, 5k, 10k words if you can. Nothing else happens, they just buy, struggle to open, and rant to themselves as they fight with the chips.

Bonus points if the bag explodes on them once they do get it open, and it spills everywhere. Just absolutely ruin their day for me, please.

That, or let someone they despise walk into the room and casually open it for them.

Character A is in a sudden, intense amount of pain with no known cause or cure. The truth is, someone from our world is projecting their period cramps onto them.

Write Character A doing something completely mundane. Get as boring and pathetic as possible, if you can.

Character A wakes up in the middle of the night after a horrific nightmare. However, when they try to describe the horrors they just went through in their sleep to Character B, they can't help but cry laughing. Sorry Character A, but your biggest fear is absolutely ridiculous.

Recreate your favorite characters in The Sims. Then, rewrite whatever happens as a fic. Bonus points if you try your hardest to make it canon compliant! (I personally enjoy the addition of the Basemental Drugs mod for this one. Sure, let's get my favorite eldritch deity addicted to ketamine, I don't care.)

Character A cannot hide it any longer. They have a dark and horrible secret, one they can no longer in good faith hide from Character B. Character B is, of course, stressed at Character A's dramatics. What could they have done that's so bad? The truth is, nothing. The secret is completely mundane and normal.

For fluff and crack, consider cuteness aggression! "The truth is, whenever you do that thing where you sneeze and then say bless you to yourself, I want to squeeze you and bite your head off!" "...That's it?" "I'm a monster, B! I'm so sorry!"

Alternatively, have Character B completely overreact to this completely mundane secret. "What do you mean you don't like (Character B's favorite thing)?! How could you!?"

[froidefille]

Day 26: a fic under 5k

I am breaking a whole of two rules for this prompt (not only I couldn't choose between the two so I'm reccing both, I've also haven't posted previous days!! scandal xd) to post these lil treasures! Enjoy <3

📚  I, Ferret by @curiouslyfic

🎧 by sisi_rambles, 13 minutes

Draco/Harry, 2.1 k, T

Summary:

Draco's embraced his inner Ferret. Now it's Harry's turn. Starring Veela!Draco, mpreg, an old wives' tale, and a Weddiwizard.

aka a story told through Harry and Draco’s wedding vows 😭💙

How it is possible to tell such a rich in details, full of emotions, yet funny and still dear story in just 2k words is beyond me. Just have a look:

I, Ferret [...] Do take you, Scarhead [...] To be my lawful wedded arse [...] To hex and to heal …and Harry's on the train to Hogwarts, sixth year, as Malfoy stomps his nose… …and Harry's on the Quidditch pitch, third year, hurling a Patronus… …and Harry's in Malfoy's office a year ago, yelling, "No, no, you can't be, we're both blokes" and Malfoy's yelling back "Part-Veela, you gormless git, so apparently I can." Harry raises his wand and Draco raises his. Bat Bogey meets Protego, then Draco spreads a hand over his belly and says "Say what you'd like to me, Potter, I don't care, but you leave her out of this." Whatever Draco does to his balls on his way out itches for absolute ages… …and nothing ever feels as good as Malfoy's mouth… …and Harry's in St. Mungo's ten months later, fighting off Obliviate. Remembers nothing of the past year but they've told him he can't hex Malfoy. Which he thinks is a bit of a shame, because Malfoy's right there by his bedside, sure he's sleeping. Malfoy whispers "Merlin, Potter, you can't ever do this again, I can't take it, no one hexes you but me." Strangely, Harry sleeps then, sure Malfoy can do what the mediwitches can't. Four days later, when his memory returns, he knows why… …and when Harry first holds his daughter, he's got blue hair and a tail and he can't stop smiling anyway…

Now go read the rest and have yourself a little moving read <3

📚 all in good time by @eleadore

Draco/Harry, 4.3k, T

Summary:

Out of all the cautionary tales they threw at you in Auror training, the most frequently touted were on the perils of inter-dimensional time-travel. There was a whole fourteen-step plan to follow. Take the necessary steps to ensure the safety of your past and future selves. Step One: Remain calm. Check. Step Two: Do not seek out any information that does not pertain to your return. Harry had never been the best at following directions.

As I have about a hundred tabs open with AO3 pages, I have somehow confused this story with another one? And reading it I was sure it was just a prologue of a long fic? Only to find it was a one shot? Ouch, that hurt. Nonetheless, it was a very pleasurable read, just a lil timey-wimey adventure for our Harry here.

Featuring teenage Harry’s  short but eventful trip to another timeline with Dad!Draco, Scorpius whisper-screaming through the door (his please and thank you? so cute <3), Harry thirsting for older Draco and inter-dimentional "in every universe" romance *melts*

OF COURSE there are quotes and spoilers under the cut, as I was taking literal notes when reading this fic like an exemplary @eleadore's drarry nerd that I am <3

Thank you for this lovely prompt @hprecfest and until the next one!

"Dad," came the voice again, an exaggerated whisper this time. It sounded like Draco's voice, always just shy of a whinge, and Harry took an absurd second to wonder if he was in a dimension where everyone but him was Draco. He'd had this nightmare before. Wet dream. Whatever. "I really can't find it," whisper-shouted the voice, "and I'm going to be late and if we miss the portkey Al's going to kill me so can you please wake up and come down here please. Thank you." Not-Draco closed his eyes, just briefly. Harry had seen him do the same a hundred times before launching into a rant that usually ended in curses thrown. He braced for it now, but when Draco—not-Draco, other-Draco, what the fuck—spoke, he sounded almost fond. "I will be down shortly," he said, and the voice subsided with a muttered amazing, thank you so much, that would be so great.

Scorp's voice sounding like Draco's 🤍 Harry's nightmare/wet dream 😂 Hint of Scorbus 💜 Dad Draco being Father Draco 😇 Scorpius being a teenage darling 😊

"Did you want to?" Stop while you're ahead, Potter, Draco would say. Harry didn't know how. "Do you want to?" Their hands slotted together. Harry made himself look up. "Not with a boy my son's age," Malfoy said mildly, "no." "I'm eighteen," Harry corrected, because he was hardly a boy, and Malfoy's son wasn't as—because that would make him— "Bloody hell. You're old." Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "We're the same age." "Not right now, we're not," Harry said, and Malfoy tilted his head in concession, mouth wry. Harry wondered if that mouth would feel the same under his. It looked the same. "If I kissed you, would you hex me?" "No," Malfoy said, after a beat. "But I would be very disappointed in you." Harry laughed to cover the odd little shiver that skated down his spine. He was—disturbed, right, because Malfoy had used the voice he used on his son, and that was—something. Harry's insides didn't know what to make of it. The look on Malfoy's face said he knew.

Harry your Daddy kink is talking ^^

"It would hurt him," Malfoy said. Harry looked at him. "It's not like that. He doesn't, like." The words escaped him abruptly, so he shrugged. "We're just fucking." He meant to follow it up with, it's great, you should try it, and then, cheeky, with me, but the way Malfoy's mouth twisted silenced him. "There is no timeline where you and I are just anything."

Truer words have never been said

"No, but—wait," Harry said, "wait, I have to tell you—" "Alright," Malfoy said, patient the way Draco never was. Harry wondered how many years it took to wear that groove in him. If Harry was going to be around to see it. He couldn't see anything anymore—everything had gone dark. "Tell me." "I want you," Harry said. He couldn't open his eyes, and his body was listing to the side, dizzy, but Draco—Malfoy—Draco's hands were on his shoulders, holding him in place. Strong hands, Harry thought. He knew these hands. "In every time—every version of me. Even if I say I don't. I want you." There was silence, but Harry could still feel him. He was near. He was right there. "Okay?" he asked. "Did you hear me? Draco? Did you—"

😭😭😭

[amber-sekio]

And if you can forgive, love will truly live

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

Ship: Dazai x Reader

Prompt: “'Sorry for showing up like this.’ You sighed, your shoulders relaxing in silent defeat. ‘Come in.’” 

TW: mentions of death (Oda), mentioned bad home life though not explicit

!Gender of reader is not specified!

A/N: I do plan on making a 2nd part where the reader and Dazai talk things out and get in a relationship, not sure when I'll finish it though

The word count for chapter 1 is roughly 2k

Also, this will be posted on my ao3, link on my master list

You had known Dazai for a long time, perhaps not as long as Chuuya has, but that’s beside the point.  

While you had grown up around shady people and been dealing with said shady people’s shady shit pretty much your whole life, courtesy of your shitty, shady parents, you hadn’t actually joined the Port Mafia until you were 17. Two years older than Dazai and Chuuya, but joined the Mafia around roughly the same time Chuuya had.  

With your ability, it didn’t take long for you to begin to climb the ranks. It wasn’t like you were trying to specifically reach the rank of executive, but gradually, you crept closer.  

About a year and a half after you had joined you had made a name for yourself, and that was also about the time you had met Dazai and Chuuya for the first time during a bigger mission.  

You had somehow managed to become something like friends with them on that mission and had become a somewhat regularity to be paired with them on large missions. You were tough enough to handle both their eccentric personalities as well as teasing enough to get along with Dazai and passionate enough to friend Chuuya.  

It was a weird trio you had formed, often being the one to defuse them when they began to bicker. And of course, apologizing when they disturbed the everyday citizens with their fighting when the three of you had time off to just be kids.  

Over time, you had begun to grow closer and fonder of Dazai, being able to relate to him more often than one probably should, but whatever. Sometimes, the two of you would find each other silently sitting at the docks staring off into nothingness, neither of you would talk, just simply get lost in your endless thoughts while enjoying the presence of someone who was similar enough to understand you.   

On one such occasion Dazai had broken the endless silence of the waves below your feet; inviting you to join him to meet with his bar friends. That was when you met Ango and Oda. They were pleasant company and you had found yourself growing attached to them just like you knew Dazai was, though he would’ve probably denied it at the time.  

So, when Dazai disappeared one night with no traces, followed by learning of Oda’s death. You knew.  

That didn’t make it hurt any less of course. Especially with how his sudden departure shed light on your feelings for him.  

While Chuuya presented himself to be finally rid of his presence, you both knew that Dazai leaving had hurt both of you. You had chosen to tell Chuuya Dazai’s reasons for leaving, not wanting the anger of Dazai’s leaving to grow into hatred, besides, Chuuya would’ve pieced it together eventually.  

And like that. Everything continued. The Port Mafia didn’t mourn over its losses. Executive duties called.  

So, when after 4 years of no contact, to say you were surprised at his being in the ADA would be an understatement.   

You hadn’t had the chance to see him yet like Chuuya had but you were there to witness Chuuya’s drunken midnight rant after having invited you over.  

“Oh, trust me, he’s as shitty a mackerel as he always has been. He hasn’t changed a bit.” Chuuya slurred off, grumbling under his breath as he laid his head down on the counter.   

You were both sitting at the kitchen island, a bottle of some expensive wine brand, open and mostly empty now, was on the counter between you.   

You sat with your body facing Chuuya, your head resting in your palm, elbow against the counter.   

“Mhm. He hasn’t changed a bit huh?” You spoke more for the simple sake of speaking, entertaining the drunk man before you. You didn’t need clarification of something you already knew.  

Dazai had always been capable of doing good. He just didn’t care between doing good or bad, it made no difference to him. He’s only working for the light because it’s what Oda wanted. Dazai not changing wasn’t a surprise. So Chuuya’s following words were a little less than expected.  

“Actually…” He paused, slurring off again before clarifying his words, his head remained poised on the counter. “He looked… brighter?” He seemed to question his own words before continuing. “Brighter and healthier. He seemed…” Chuuya trailed off again but not due to his drunken state. He stopped himself from finishing his train of thought.  

“Happier?” You finished for him.  

He didn’t respond.  

After that, you had practically forgotten about Dazai now being in the ADA, too busy with missions and the seemingly never-ending, growing stack of paperwork.  

That was until tonight.   

It had been a grueling past few days, rainy weather, long meetings, missions to assign, missions to report and file, and of course your endless stack of shitty paperwork that had somehow found itself in your home office, taking up even more of your own time which was already short considering your importance to the Mafia.  

After you got home, sometime around the dead-ass crack of dawn, you had only grabbed a cup of coffee, one of the larger mugs you owned, before heading to your office for more work.  

Sometime, while in the middle of reviewing some report, you had fallen asleep, lulled by the endless pitter-patter of rain hitting the window in your office.   

You had slept most of the day away and upon waking, it had already grown dark outside, probably around 9 or 10 at night now, and you were thankful to whatever divine being had granted you a day off today because you would have been so fucking late. You chose to willfully ignore that Mori-san was technically the one who made your schedule. He was a good boss, competent in his decisions, but he was no divine being.  

Stretching in your chair, you could feel the soreness of your muscles from the previous day of work. There was a tightness in your back, worse than it normally was, courtesy of sleeping in your chair.  

A knock sounded on your door, soft when it made its way to your ears but still clear as it cut through the silence of the penthouse you called home.  

You dragged your body to your door, still completely dressed head-to-toe in your typical Mafia outfit with the addition of a few wrinkles, your shoes clacking noisily on the floor.  

“Coming!” You called out before the person waiting behind your door could think to knock again.  

Reaching your door, you work through your security system before opening your door, behind, a man you hadn’t seen for 4 years.  

Your tiredness slipped away from your body as you gasped. Your body now on alert as you stared at him.   

He was dressed in, presumedly, his ADA outfit, light in color. His bandages still covered his neck, probably the rest of his body, but the ones that used to cover his eye were gone. He had clearly gained weight since you had last seen him, though he still lacked a significant amount of meat on his bones someone his age and height should have.  

Chuuya was right, he looked happier. No. That was wrong. He didn’t look happy. He looked… sad? Guilty?  

They weren’t emotions you were familiar with seeing on him. Sure, you had seen both emotions on people in the Mafia during interrogations… but on Dazai? No. He hardly ever even faked them.  

He did look brighter though. Healthier.  

He also looked- no was drenched. His clothes were darkened by the rainwater still pouring outside. Dripping water on the carpeted floor. You could see a few dark spots on the floor down the hall, marking his trail.  

He beat you to a response.  

“Sorry for showing up like this.”   

You sighed, your shoulders relaxing in silent defeat. “Come in.”  

You stepped to the side, letting him in.  

You closed the door behind him as he observed the expensive and modern decorations. It lacked any personality, at least to an untrained eye. If one looked closer, you could make out a knick-knack here or there that didn’t quite fit the rest of the rather drab decorations.  

It lacked vulnerability.  

Your bedroom, though, where only you went into, your interests bled out.  

“I assume your room has more personality than this, no?” Dazai’s tone was off. A half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood.  

“Vulnerability isn’t something Mafia Executives have the luxury to indulge in often.”  

He didn’t respond.  

“You can hang your coat on the rack.” You spoke, staring at his back as he walked into your home. “And take your shoes off.”  

You turned down the hall towards your room, leaving Dazai to settle.  

As you walked you called out to Dazai, not facing him. “I should have some clothes that fit you.” Then as an afterthought, “I want you to take a shower.”  

When you walked back into the living room with some clothes, Dazai had actually listened, his coat was hung up and his shoes were in the genkan, he had also taken off his socks, probably soaked after being out in the rain.   

You walked up to him, handing him the clothes. “Go take a shower. There should be some rolls of bandages in there, though I’m not sure how many I have left.”  

He took the clothes from you silently, then: “Thank you.”  

You looked him in the eyes, trying to discern how much you didn’t know about him anymore. How much you needed to learn about him.  

“Have you eaten?” You spoke calmly, trying to ignore the thoughts and feelings swirling inside you without end.  

“I-…” He hesitated. “No. I haven’t.”  

Without another word, you left him to go take a shower. It was probably a good idea to make something to eat anyway, considering you were currently running off of a single cup of coffee.  

You decided to not bother to cook and instead pulled out two packets of ramen in part because you were still tired as fuck, and you didn’t know if Dazai’s eating habits had changed or not.   

It was better to settle for something simple that he might eat if you were lucky.  

It didn’t take long for the ramen to finish heating up and for you to place it in two bowls so you placed them on the table. You were about to go check on Dazai when he turned the corner into the living room.  

Something was off, he had changed into the clothes you got for him, and his hair was still wet, dripping water off of his soft curls. He seemed… hesitant -nervous? More so than he had been before taking a shower.  

“I made ramen.” You spoke, realizing you had been looking for a bit too long. You gestured to the table with the two bowls full of still steaming ramen.  

“Thank you…” His voice was quiet, low. He clearly wasn’t bothering to hide his hesitancy, or perhaps he was just failing miserably in trying.   

You sat down at one end of the table and busied yourself with eating. You watched him shift over to the seat adjacent to you. 

Your eyes widened in upon noticing. “You’re not wearing your bandages?”  

He shifted in his seat, avoiding your gaze.  

“The hoodie and shorts are soft…”   

The ‘and I trust you’ went unsaid but understood.

Your face softened around the edges.

“Eat.”  

He responded with a nod before picking up his chopsticks.  

Soon enough you had finished your food, and though Dazai only ate half, it was more than you were expecting him to eat. You placed your dishes in the sink to deal with another time before returning to the table, though you remained standing. Dazai had yet to get up.  

“Do you want to watch something? I have a day off so…” You trailed off awkwardly.  

He looked up but he didn’t quite meet your eyes.   

“Sure.”  

The only light currently on was the blue light emitted from the television that was playing some show you were hardly paying any more attention to. After a few episodes, you had shifted from sitting awkwardly on opposite sides of the couch to where Dazai was now practically lying on top of you. He was lying his head on your chest with his face turned towards the screen, invested in whatever show it was that was playing. You had let him pick. You were far more interested in watching as he relaxed into you as you ran your fingers through his now, mostly dry, curls.  

“Tired?” Your voice no more than a whisper.  

“No…” He responded; a hint of a tired whine interlaced in it. A tone his voice always had when he was tired just didn’t want to sleep in lieu of whatever he was currently doing, which at the moment was watching a show while cuddling with someone he hadn’t seen in 4 years.  

“Sure~.” You teased as your nails gently scratched at his scalp.  

He grumbled something softly into your chest.  

You knew how bad, how dangerous your next thought was. It could end badly for both of you, but you couldn’t help when the words slipped from your tongue.   

“Why don’t we go to bed hm?”   

He responded with an unintelligible whine, pressing his face further into your chest, as he wrapped his lanky arms around your back.  

You sighed softly but even if he had clearly put on more weight, he still wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight against you physically speaking. You gathered what remaining strength you had in you as you wrapped your hands around his waist before shifting to a sitting position. Then you secured your arms under him to lift him up in your arms.  

“Come on, you lanky beanpole. Time for bed.”  

The talk could wait for tomorrow, after all, he couldn’t leave with his clothes still in the washer.

PT 2

[koolades-world]

Hello! Congrats on 2k followers!!! I’ll be honest, with the way you write so beautifully I really assumed you might have had 5k if not more :0! But, I’m sure it’ll happen quickly without any of us noticing! Anyway! I was thinking of Satan x shy fem! MC who actually confesses to him!! I’m thinking that in one of Asmo’s Friday night games Asmo dares MC to kiss someone who she would date. So she bashfully gives Satan a soft cheek kiss and runs off to the planetarium. When she realises Satan’s presence near her, she spills her heart out using prompts 6 and 36! Prompt 6 to explain her initial attraction to him, and prompt 36 after listing out and explaining the things she loves about him (seeking knowledge, gentle nature, observant, considerate, you know it all!! :))! Sorry if it’s too long, you can cut out any details you don’t like or think are too tedious or completely change it to any other plot you like!

Have a lovely day/night!

thank you!! great to see you again :)) been working on your other request but i'm not sure when i'll have it ready haha

no worries about being too specific and whatnot, it helps me since I don’t actually need to come up with the idea on my own haha. the concept is very cute! you know me, I could rant about all the things I love about satan so actually that part might just be me speaking haha

asmo have friday game nights is SO real I think I may need to expand on that concept later. monopoly is 100% banned in that household, but we can save that fun stuff for later

enjoy <3

prompts 6 and 36 w/ Satan

Despite how busy the household might get during the week, Friday evenings were typically reserved for game nights, hosted and organized by Asmo. It started off as something small with just himself and you because they actually wanted to play games, Mammon because he was simply following you, and Levi because he saw an opportunity to show off. After that, it began to develop and take on a life of its own.

As more people joined, things needed to be more coordinated. Food had to be ordered or turns needed to be taken on who was making what, a schedule of what was going to be played had to be made, and even a seating schedule so nobody would argue over who got to sit next to you.

Tonight, the group would be playing something a little different. In all honesty, it seemed like the perfect game. It didn't require anything but the players themselves, and didn't have a limit to how many could play. Unfortunately, that game was the bane of your existence: truth or dare. You didn't have the heart to tell Asmo of all the horrors that games had brought you when you were younger. But, you'd never missed a game night and it wasn't about to start now. Who know, you might even enjoy it.

So, you took your seat in the circle against your better judgment. Today, you were seated between Satan and Diavolo. Diavolo was always very into the games, but sitting next to Satan made you nervous. Not because of his rage, but because of the effect of being near him had on you. After coming to the realization that you had a crush on him, being around him got so much harder, but you didn't want to disrupt the schedule. It was only one night, you thought you could power through it.

The night was a blur, and the only thing you could focus on was how close you were to Satan. You were squished next to him on the couch, and every time you touched, you felt almost stunned. You could only hoped nobody else noticed your suffering. Unfortunately for you, Asmo never missed that kind of thing and decided he was ready to be your matchmaker, if you'd take the chance.

"Mc! You haven't said anything yet. I'm honestly surprised nobody else has called on you yet. So, truth or dare?" Asmo's words shook you out of your stupor. You sat and thought for a moment about his question. He'd for sure use truth against you in some way, like asking who your favorite brother was. That would start a war. So, instead you opted for dare, hoping he'd just ask to use you as a living mannequin.

"Dare, I guess?" You nervously glanced around. You would have thought at this point you would've grown used to the stares of many eyes at once, but it still never failed to make you nervous.

"I dare you to give a kiss to somebody you would date. Preferably me." He puckered up. Of course you knew your answer, but did you have the courage? The easy way out would be giving Asmo the kiss, but that wouldn't be true to your heart. You could feel the gazes of the others trained on your every move, silently hoping you'll pick them.

"Uhm. Can I back out? Or at least can everybody close their eyes?" You couldn't meet anyone's eyes.

"You heard her. Close your eyes. The quicker you do, the quicker I get my kiss." Reluctantly, everyone in the room shut their eyes, the last being Satan himself. The two of you held inexplicable eye contact, as if he knew about the choice you were about to make before you did. After everyones' eyes were finally shut, you could feel yourself relax a little. But not enough to make it less stressful.

Finally ready to make your move, you got up from your spot and stood in the center of the circle. You stood in front of Satan, studying his features. You could spend hours looking at him. His long eyelashes, his bright blond hair, his full lips. But, you couldn't keep everyone waiting. With all the courage you could muster, you stepped forward, and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. His eyes shot open and for a long moment, you stared at each other.

Suddenly, all the confidence you'd managed to gather vanished. Panicking, you ran out of the circle through a small gap between Levi and Mammon. You fled to the only place that brought you comfort: the planetarium. Once you were there, you sat down on the ground and looked up at the stars. Finding the constellations brought you comfort. Behind you, you heard the door to the planetarium open. You turned to the sound of the approaching footsteps and was greeted by the man you'd kissed under an hour ago.

"Mc. I thought I'd find you here." Satan sat beside you, following your gaze up to the sky. "I never thought you'd date me of all people." You looked at him from your peripheral vision.

"What make you say that?" You questioned him. To you, he was perfect.

"Well, I always just assumed you'd prefer my brothers' personalities. They all have something going for them, and I'm just me. I'm not as special." His expression didn't change.

"You don't sell yourself enough. You're smart, you're thoughtful, and you're a joy to be around, not to mention how handsome you are. You give me butterflies." You absolutely wouldn't stand for him putting himself down like that, even if it meant confessing in the process. You'd already kind of kicked that off to begin with, so the least you could do was follow though. "But, that's not all. You care about the people close to me. You followed me here, didn't you? That's one of the many things I love about you. You always know exactly what I need when I'm feeling down. You're sensible, you're always honest with me, you're witty, and you have a more mischievous side. You pay attention to detail and you're gentle. I have a hard time thinking about what I don't love about you. To me, you're perfect." At the point, Satan was was looking right at you. This time, you weren't afraid to make eye contact and you met his emerald eyes.

"I could list all the things I love about you, but we'd be here all night. If you give me time, I'll make a book for you. If that was a confession, I accept." He softly smiled at you. He was positively glowing with the compliments you gave him, yet he still seemed to doubt the reality of it all. His cheeks were a light pink, and he held his hand out to you. You took it with a newfound conviction.

"I think it was." You found yourself growing a little bashful again, but didn't let go or look away. You enjoyed the feeling of his hand in yours.

"We could go back to game night, or we could go out? I have this 24 hour cafe in mind I've been meaning to try. It could be our first date." He ran his thumb over your knuckles, pressing a tender kiss to the back of your hand that echoed the one you'd given him not too long ago.

"I'd like that." With a smile, you let him pull you to your feet. The way he smiled at you made you realize you wouldn't regret your decision to step out of your comfort zone.

[babstheyaga]

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE INTERACTING WITH MY PAGE >>> Link

Howdy I’m Tyler (More commonly known as Sam), I’m a D.I.D. system and I have Bipolar type I, Borderline Personality disorder, and Acute/Severe Anxiety, all diagnosed. 

Links/Masterlist and tags below...

Tags: #related to fmod - Posts related to my series Fear Me Or Die

#related to fmodr - Posts related to my series Fear Me Or Die Rewritten

#related to cosio - Posts related to my series Come On, Spit It Out!

#related to lmlm - Posts related to my series Love Me, Love Me

#related to fmogd - Posts related to my mini series Fear Me Or Get Detention

#Related to ftlm - Posts related to my series Fear To Love Me

#important - Posts I deem as important in some aspect, if it be an update on something life related, or maybe some art that someone gifted me

#shut up tyler - Normally me ranting about something, but sometimes it's just something that isn't rebloged/not an ask

#god i love asks - All of my posts that revolve around an inbox goes to this tag

#my art - Drawings that I did myself

#long post - Exactly what it reads, it's probably a giant block of text or something, normally a big prompt idea from an ask

#prompt - Not used very often because I normally forget, but used when I write a small like 1-2k words of an idea someone gave me

#I'm sorry I'm not sober - Posts I make while I am drinking alcohol

#!!story update!! - Post alerts for story updates

Links:

My AO3 account My Wattpad account My art/personal blog (i suck at art) @beebaebaby

Fear Me Or Die (Human!Dark!Transformers x Reader)

AO3 - Ch.1 - Ch.2 - Ch.3 - Ch.4 - Ch.5 - Ch.6 - Ch.7 - Ch.8 - Ch.9 - Ch.10 - Ch.11 - Ch.12 - Ch.13 - Ch.14 - Ch.15 - Ch. 16 - Ch.17 - Ch.18 - Ch.19 - Ch.20 - Ch.21 - Ch.22 - Ch.23 - Ch.24 - Ch.25 - Ch.26 - Ch.27 - Ch.28 - Ch.29 - Ch.30 - Ch.31 - Ch.32 - Ch.33 - Ch.34 - Ch.35

Fear To Love Me (FMOD continued)

AO3 - Ch.1 - Ch.2

Come On, Spit It out! (Human!Dark!BumbleBee x Reader)

AO3 - Ch.1 - Ch.2 - Ch.3 - Ch.4 - Ch.5 - Ch.6 - Ch.7 - Ch.8 - Ch.9

Love Me, Love Me (Yandere!BumbleBee x Reader)

AO3 - Ch.1 - Ch.2 - Ch.3

Tear You Apart (Vent/Ryona FMOD variant)

AO3 - Ch.1 - Ch.2

Fear Me Or Die One Shots/AU

It'll Hurt - Jazz Like a Deity - Ratchet Fear Me Or Get Detention Promise - Jazz Losing Track Of Time - Jazz If We Were Vampires - BumbleBee Mr. Cane Corso - Optimus

FMOD playlists

The Husband’s Car Radio The Smoker’s Walkman The Motorist’s Helmet Speaker The Obsessive Detector’s IPod The Wife’s Thoughts The Leader’s Record Player The Doctor's Bluetooth The Wounded Detector's HeadPhones The Soft Detector's AirPods

COSIO playlists

The Tormentor Turned The Obsessed The Bully She’s Trying To Forget The Mute That Talks Too Much Binge Eating In Reserve

[fumifooms]

Hey fumi do you have any fics in the work?

Hi! I always have a ton of wips and prompts on the back burner, but as for whether I have any fics right now that I’m actively working on… Yes! Although I don’t know from what fandom you are from anon (I’m guessing Dungeon Meshi) so I’m just gonna talk about my general fic plans regardless of what they’re for.

Tldr: Currently I’m working on two fics for Harahara Sensei, but after that I want to try and continue some wips I started and left unfinished, besides all the other wips I want to try and get done asap alongside that for a bunch of fandoms.

Currently:

I’m working on two oneshots simultaneously for Harahara Sensei/Timebomb Teacher! I’ve been alternating between which of the two I’m focusing on which uhh certainly is a choice. One is gonna be pretty short like uhh 2k words while the other I’m anticipating to be around ~5k words maybe? Harahara Sensei’s a manga that’s not even been translated into english and my last fic for it got no attention so I’m def not expecting anyone else to rejoice about it but I’m having a great time. I’ve been considering machine translating them and put them on Pixiv though, there are a couple of fics for it on there so if it’s readable to others that’d be fun. Harahara Sensei has been having a grip on my brain again lately I tell you… I listen to my spotify playlist for it and I weep

— Unlike my last Harahara Sensei fic though these are feel good and not ungodly angst! The shorter one is gonna be centered around ice creams/popsicles, themes of empathy and being ice cold with others and mayybe stolen childhood considering canon, with a motif of winning and losing popsicles— You know that thing in japan where if there’s winner written on the popsicle stick you get another popsicle for free at a store. This might sound like a far fetched concept but canon just had a field trip with this I could talk SO MUCH about popsicles in Harahara Sensei and how Yoroizuka loves them omg. The way he tossed a winning stick in a fire- The way it almost mimics the look of a smoke- The way he eats them because he never had the chance to as a kid- So much I could say and so much I could spoil and so much I could theorize and rant about it makes me rabid!!!! Is this a good time to mention Harahara Sensei is about yakuzas — The longer one is about them going out to eat at a restaurant together after vol 2, pretty chill, learning to know each other beyond their usual um, "professional" setting. Unlike the ice cream one it’s less vibey and more straightforward, shooting for dialogue and neat moments. Its name is gonna be Death Tolls and Dinner Rolls which I have such a shit eating grin about, it’s so perfect and hilarious to me it feels like my brain is huge. Here below the summary tidbits for the fics + a canon extra page about Yoroizuka so y’all have a visual idk. Oh I don’t go into it in the pic but there’ll def be a death toll-adjacent convo in the fic and not only dinner rolls, I don’t lie on the label

You know, I noticed lately how the theme of food is pretty prevalent in my fics in general. Like, even before reading Dungeon Meshi! Both of my Harahara Sensei wips here were started before reading it, funny how that works. My first posted fic ever is about baking a cake hah. With Dunmeshi it’s only getting worse here on out I’m afraid. My thing with Harahara Sensei fics so far has been to do a lot of animals metaphors and comparisons because dehumanization is a big and cool theme in it and OUGHH that’s so fun. Rat races… Brb sobbing. Also I’d be making faster progress on my fics if I didn’t overthink everything and insisted on researching how rare benches are in Kabukicho tbh. Please god let them sit down……

Dunmeshi:

Listen if you’re a oomfie you knowwww I have so many marchil wips… But I also have a ton of other dunmeshi wips as well. So real talk for the moment I feel like fic wise I’ve done a explored marchil a good amount, I’d like to work on smth else as a palate cleanser after a month of working on the same fic oughh. But yes I’ve done angsty unrequited during canon marchil, I’ve done bittersweet-ish fluffy post-canon slow burn-ish marchil, if I were to focus on a marchil fic soon I think it’d either be 1) a quick gen/platonic fic set during canon where Chilchuck lends her an ear and comforts her after the dungeon rabbits incident when she gets nightmares, 2) Marcille and Chilchuck on a date post-canon, ice skating and dancing and shenanigans, or 3) either Marcille invites him to a fancy social event at the castle as her plus-one (aka emotional support) maybe already dating maybe on the verge of confessing OR they’re already dating and then Marcille’s mom visits them and it’s very sweet and then maybe a marriage proposal happens too~, in both cases Chilchuck is going through so much stress. I’ve done many flavors so far but what I reallyyy want to do rn is just Chilchuck’s heart on the edge of giving out, going through the five stages of grief over the banquet not having his favorite kind of alcohol and Marcille not letting him be an ornamental plant in the corner of the room and doing the bare minimum. If it doesn’t show I’m most excited for 3)…

BUT. Before I fell down the marchil rabbithole I was working on a couple of laimar ideas, including one where Marcille makes Laios read The Daltian Clan because she’s soo desperate for someone to talk about it with even if Falin didn’t end up getting into it. The plot twist is that Laios DOES get invested, but in all the different ways. Laios is less into the drama and romance and politics (haha have fun being king my guy) that Marcille is into but is more invested in the action/war and he roots for the monster hordes enemies and whatnot. They have diametrically opposed favorite characters and allegiances. He hyperfixates on a minor side character. Shenanigans happen in short and they heatedly discuss the latest chapters that Laios read and stuff. Marcille always end up some mix of enraged at his opinions but overjoyed to have a fellow fan around. It’s supposed to be 3 chaps long, have one chap set during canon pre-relationship, one chap set just after canon with some canon divergence & feelings blooming and then one chap set post canon & canon compliant with established relationship. I don’t have a name I’m satisfied about for it hnng, have some fun wip bits though, this summarizes the vibes well

An effect of writing up most my laimar ideas before Dungeon Meshi ended is that in many of them Marcille goes to prison oop, I do think that’d be a fun possibility to explore though, so at some point I’d like to at least include it in a fic. I even wrote down a laimar idea where it’s them pining with the other being oblivious to it BUT it’s narrated from Chilchuck sensing the romance in the air and seething (no jealousy at ALL just Chilchuck being a hater, being like ugh!! Young people in love. Ugh!!). Here are some other laimar-marchil ideas I find presentable, esp the second one I’m really endeared by it I wanna do a short soft nighttime fic about cherishing your loved one…… I want it to be marchil but dragons are more topical for laimar ugh 😔 I love Marcille being a canonical big spoon

But tbh I want to write gen/no ships fics for dunmeshi a lot. I have plans for Mithrun-centric fics, and I want to write at least one about Cithis as well. Here are a bunch, I thought of the Laios & Falin one lately while rereading that page where Laios tells about when he went to see Falin at the academy and I love it sm rn, I want to weite about Falin jumping into his arms and breaking his back, imagine your brother who you haven’t seen in years unexpectedly shows up at your window while filthy and disheveled. I need to write that, also yay Falin pov :)

Oh it’s gonna sound crazy but I also had a phase of wanting to write about Shuro, and particularly Shuro & Izutsumi as siblings who deal with their home situation in diametrically opposed ways and influence each other positively to be less at the extremes of propriety and allowing your shackles to a family vs rebelling against it. Lotsa lil snippets and maybe even a multi chap fic. Oh also a farcille one where Marcille helps bathe and brush Falin because she sheds feathers a lot post canon, just some domestic fluff. And even this is far from all my dunmeshi prompts so hopefully you see what I mean when I say I have soo many wips at all times. Which brings us to…

After that:

As with most end of the year periods, I’m feeling like I want to finish all the loose ends I actually started. I have a list with my priorities but besides Wild Side which I have the first chapter up for (Camp Camp fic) and there’s also an asaden Chainsaw Man I reallyyy planned on finishing last december for Christmas so… Second time’s the charm? It’s called Hachiko & Hot Chicken and it’s just about them going on a Christmas date in Shibuya. Ahh yes there are also two kimbliza Fullmetal Alchemist ones I started, besides the soapmaking Invader Zim zagr one from years ago that I left mid-writing the last chapter. Other fun ones are an Animal Crossing one centering around the player character & Redd going bug hunting, and a Long Way North one about sleeping on a rocking ship and bunking in together in the dead of night, both from years ago too. Man, my recurring themes truly do be sleeping and eating.

----

Okok time to end this post dayum. I warn that I’m a pretty slow writer, both in general averaging at like 15 words per minute if I’m generous, and in the broader life schedule. I am unreliable af and I have no clue when my next fic is coming out at any given moment. Many of my readers have spent months or years waiting for the next chapter… Which is why I tend to stick to oneshots heh. If I focus well enough on writing, maybe my Harahara Sensei oneshots will only take me one week each hmm. Too many ideas too little time Honestly though I’d also like to focus on tumblr posts some soon, I got some asks and big posts I’d like to finish up~ Oh but I have to admit lately I’ve been focusing more on fanart and just original art as well. Sorry for the novel but ty for the ask~

[miribalis]

Chapters: ½ Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims Additional Tags: Character Study, Grey-romantic Martin, Asexual Martin Blackwood, Internalised Arophobia, just a bit maybe, Overthinking, Scottish Highlands Summary:

Martin had held several iterations of his own feelings in his head for the better part of three years. Martin was in love. Martin had a crush. Martin had a weird complex that made him want to make everyone like him, even just a little bit. Martin had tricked himself into believing he liked someone. Martin liked the idea of being in love, and had chosen the least likely person to care about it.

On looking from afar, and seeing up close.

– 

 This was not in my plans for this month, but here you go! 💚🖤💜

[kingbonercar]

Bring Me a Dream- Morpheus X Reader

A/N: I wrote this in the middle of the night, so I hope it’s not absolute drivel. Also I didn’t proofread it so… hey! Idk what’s gonna happen! Also it’s very long bc I just WENT FOR IT! I hope you all enjoy!

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of death

Major fluff alert! Slow burn for a oneshot!

Paring: Morpheus x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: y/n is Alex Burgess’s adult Grandchild coming to visit, but they uncover the “family secret” in the basement, and they vow to release the man trapped for so many centuries.

Nature was outstretching its urgent arms and beckoning me to frolic within its verdant forests and fields. The greenery was speckled with buds of a multitude of pastel colors. I lost myself in this world of sweet-smelling daffodils and buttery rays of sunshine-

“Hey! Uh, you’re here!” The gruff cockney voice of my cab driver jolted me out of my trancelike slumber.

“Oh! Yes! Thank you!” I swallowed, shakily thumbing through my wallet to retrieve my credit card to reimburse the driver.

With a tight-lipped smile, I lugged my suitcase from the trunk with an ungraceful thud, and slammed the banana-yellow lid of it a tad too aggressively. I was still halfway prancing in the dream world like a daft idiot.

As I ambled down the cobblestone walkway of my grandfathers’ estate, I thought to myself, what a lovely dream. I lingered on this moment, as I had been pervasively afraid of the “sleepy sickness” which had affected my mother before her death just three years ago. It seemed as if no one dreamed anymore. I rapped on the door eagerly, for it had been years since I had seen my grandfathers, I had been but a mere child. The heavy door swung open to reveal the grinning face of Alex Burgess, my favorite relative.

“Oh how you’ve grown!” He cooed, beckoning me inside.

“I have a room for you upstairs, but drop your bags anywhere, we need to catch up!”

The man struggled to arise from his wheelchair, but after a few grunts, he stood tall, smiling with open arms.

“Grandpa!” I scolded, “you didn’t need to stand up!”

I embraced him, giggling through my chides.

“Ah but I did! You know that’s my favorite trick to play on people? I’ll be in my chair, looking as if I’m on Death's door, then BAM! I’ll stand up, and not only that, but I’ll rant about how some miracle has cured me! Gets ‘em every time!” Alex sung, clearly proud of his pranking achievements.

“I missed this. God, ever since mom passed away it’s like I was farther away from you. She was like an extension of you, despite being adopted, she really did reflect everything about you.” I sighed. “But I’m happy I’m here now.” I patted him on the shoulder, prompting my grandfather to settle down into his wheelchair.

“Now let me show you to your room.” He uttered.

-

-

-

“I believe it is time for you to learn our family secret. Venture to the basement if you wish to know. But be warned, you must keep this firmly under wraps. We cannot risk knowledge of this being getting out.

Yours,

Grandpa Alex”

A note on yellowed parchment read. I had discovered the letter on my bedside table, waiting to be discovered. I looked upon it with a perplexed demeanor.

“Well, if this is some elaborate plot to kidnap me, it’s better than paying rent in my New York apartment.” I thought.

I descended a myriad of stairs, enough to make my calves groan.

I reached a sinister looking gate barring a larger room from access. Two guards stood beside it, unyielding. I brandished my letter with a shrug.

“Uh, I was told to come down here.” I squeaked.

The individuals nodded at one another, then punched in an unseen code to a pin pad which triggered the barred doors to swing open. I cautiously stepped in. The room was a sweeping expanse of grey, dimly lit walls. If only that were the only thing within. In the center of the area, a giant glass ball was perched in the center of some strange gold circle drawn onto the concrete below. Within the sphere was a man. This person’s skin was as white as an early winter snow, and his hair was obsidian black, so black that it could devour worlds in its endless void of color. The imprisoned man was also lacking clad, he crossed his legs to preserve a shred of dignity for himself, even in this state. I was taken aback at this sight. Why would my family be harboring a human being in their basement, along with keeping this poor soul in the confines of a glass globe, with no clothing or even a blanket? A swarm of emotions floated around my head as I approached the person. I stopped my stride as I reached a safe distance from the metallic circle on the floor, thinking it to be some sort of protective spell, although I couldn’t place it. For even I, someone who dabbles in witchcraft, it was foreign to me. The pale man lifted his chin slowly to meet my gaze with his icy eyes. They narrowed, his face awash with untrusting hatred.

I stepped away, a stirring in my soul told me to avert my prying eyes. I tore my gaze from the floor to look at him again, budding tears clouding my vision.

“God, I can’t believe they did this to you.” I whispered, bringing a hand up to touch the glass empathetically.

His gaze was unfaltering.

“Um, what is your name?” I inquired gently.

His lips remained sealed.

“I-I’m going to have a word with my grandfather about this.” I stated, turning on my heel.

-

-

-

“So just because he hasn’t promised not to harm you, you haven’t let him out? That’s IT?” I cried after Alex had enlightened me on the story of why the man was in the basement.

“Well, yes! Can’t you understand?” He hollered hopelessly.

“Are you sure he can even hear you in that thing?”

“Of course I’m sure! He’s a stubborn bastard!”

“If I weren’t your house guest I would break that fucking glass on my own.”

“But you are my house guest, and he’s a dangerous entity, Y/N.” My grandfather's hands met his head.

“Well at least you could show him some decency. He is the lord of dreams for fucks sake.” I spat as I turned towards the basement door. “And just so it’s clear, the reason your daughter died was because of you keeping him imprisoned. Without that, we wouldn’t have any of the sleepy-sickness bullshit. So just know that.” Words dripped like venom off of my mouth.

The man looked astounded, tears began to form in his eyes as despair clouded his face. He sunk into his wheelchair and wept.

-

-

-

I had been attempting to get the Lord of Dreams to converse for five hours, and I was constantly unsuccessful.

The being had shifted his position so he was laying, his eyes peeking out from behind his forearm. I sat down on the cold concrete, defeated.

“I know your name now, Alex told me. But I guess I am a sucker for proper introductions.” I sighed. I fished a minuscule sketch book and a graphite pencil out of my jacket pocket and began to craft a picture of The Sandman, in all of his foreboding glory. I found his strange muscle patterns endlessly fascinating. My pencil scratched paper for an undetermined amount of time, resulting in a gorgeous piece of Dream himself. I slowly pressed the page to the glass, he gazed upon it with curiosity. He lifted his hand to meet the wall of his entrapment, almost as if to reach for the drawing. His lips parted for mere seconds, just before he slumped into the deflated position that he has been roosting in for hours. I retreated as slumber beckoned me with balmy promises. I scooted to rest against the unyielding wall, eager to submit to the realm of sleep, not caring what consequences were in store for me. My eyelids felt as if they had contracted weights, and my vision blurred as my eyes closed, immediately introducing me to a world so vibrant that it had to be the one of dreams. I stood in the field, the same one in which I had visited in my nap in the taxi. I spun, my unclad feet meshing with the fertile soil below them. I allowed a laugh to escape my lips as I tumbled onto the soft ground. I gazed at the fluffy dandelions perched atop hairy stalks, and the razor-sharp blades of grass concealing the miniature insects within. Although my wonderment was tampered by two combat-boot-adorned feet trampling on the greenery. My eyes shot up accusatorily to view none other than The Lord of Dreams. I regained my bearings and shot to my feet, standing a few inches shorter than he. The being was now wearing clothes, pervasively black ones at that.

“Hi.” I uttered breathlessly.

His presence was strong, overwhelming. I suppose it’s not surprising when one is met with a God.

“Hello. You never told me your name.” He spoke, his voice was rich like oceans of time and caves dripping with jewels. He held universes on his tongue when he crafted his words so calmly.

“My-my name? Oh, well, I’m Y/N. It’s more than a pleasure to finally meet you properly.” I extended my hand, feeling awkward and shaky.

“Y/N,” he let the syllables roll off his silver tongue. “I like that name. I’m Morphius, but you probably were told my name was Dream. Which I suppose is true to some extent.” He obliged to my offer of a handshake. His fingers were freezing, his touch was fleeting.

“Morpheus, that’s a beautiful name. What would you rather I call you?” Speaking his name ignited a flame in my soul.

“You may call me whatever you like, Y/N.” He stated, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Ah, yes. Thank you, Lord Morpheus.” I bowed shallowly, not sure what to do at that particular moment.

“No need for such formalities. I am only here to speak to you.” Morpheus tutted.

“I’m sorry. What are you wanting to speak about?” I swiftly corrected my position.

“I wanted to tell you that I haven’t beheld such bewitching beauty in a thousand years. I have been confined so wretchedly, alone, for so long. And you are the only hope I have ever seen.” The wiry man grew closer to me as he gently took my hand and planted a tender kiss to the top of it.

I was on the verge of fainting, despite being in a dream.

“I see I have made you uncomfortable. Many apologies, dear Y/N. I shall go now.” He turned with sad eyes away from me.

“Morpheus, wait!” I tapped his shoulder urgently.

He turned to meet my gaze. Those eyes held a million words. “Wait. I have never encountered a being who harbors such complex emotion, such confusing luster. But why would The Lord of the Dreamworld want a mere mortal like me?”

“Do not diminish yourself to such titles. You have touched me, Y/N, with your compassion and kindness. I used to think that every human was like Roderick Burgess, but I was wrong. You are different.” His white hands snaked up my forearms and ascended to my shoulders.

“Kiss me. Please.” I knew what I was asking of the Dream Lord and I didn’t care. Lust pervaded me completely. He bored into my eyes as he leaned in, our noses brushing, his arm coiling around my waist, and my fingers playing with his spiky hair. Our lips were almost brushing….

“DON’T FALL ASLEEP IN HIS PRESENCE!” My grandfather awoke me by shaking my shoulders urgently.

“Gah! What?” I spluttered, dazed.

“God it’s all my fault! He’s probably gotten to you now! I forgot to tell you- it’s all my FAULT!” He wailed.

I turned my attention to Morpheus in his cell. He watched, he raised an eyebrow mischievously.

“You know what? Maybe he has gotten to me. And I don’t care if it was all a ploy to get me to release him- but you can’t keep someone caged like this! It’s not right!” I screamed as I leapt towards the circle, scratching out a chunk of it with my heel.

The atmosphere in the dim basement room shifted. The air grew colder and malicious. All I remember is the force of my back hitting the wall. Then, it was silent.

-

-

-

My ears rang nonstop, tears leaked from my eyes uncontrollably. I opened my moistened lids to see a ceiling foreign to any that were in the house. I sat up, confused and disoriented.

“Everything is safe now. Calm yourself.” A sultry and familiar voice droned.

My view came to meet Dream, sitting on a bed adjacent to mine. I noted that we were in what appeared to be a hotel room.

“What… what happened?” I inquired groggily.

“Don’t worry about that. What matters is that we are both out of harm's way.”

“Okay.” I said plainly, not satisfied with his answer. “Um, in the dream, was that… real? Or was that just a plot so I could help you escape?” I bit my lip.

“I suppose it was both.” He arose and made his way over to me. He took my hands and knelt in between my legs. “Everything I said was true.” He uttered. His tone was enough to make me melt. “Ah nervous, are we?”

“Wherever would you get that idea?” I chuckled.

He slowly ascended from his kneeling position to stand in between my legs. His movements were leisurely and deliberate. He tilted my chin up with his thin finger.

“Now, let’s finish where we left off, yes?” He breathed, connecting his lips with mine.

He tasted like starlight and fresh mint. He felt like adoration incarnate, and he was mine; I was his.

[astronomoney]

Pairing: Tim Drake x nb!reader (it’s not super romance heavy but I might do a part two)

Prompts: n/a this is purely self indulgent

Summary: sometimes life gives you lemons and sometimes life tells you your best friend and the guy you hate are the same person, your not sure what’s worse

Warnings: n/a

A/n: is this canon compliant? no. does it make much sense? not really. do I like and did I have fun writing it? absolutely. read at your own risk Masterlist also this should be totally nb but if you see anything that’s gender solid please let me know so I can fix it

Word count: 2k it got to long but there’s plenty of material for a second part (wink wink nudge nudge)

Secrets Spilled

Rich people suck. More specifically, rich teenagers suck. You should know, you go to school with one. Tim Drake, the pride and joy of Gotham Academy and the adopted son of Bruce Wayne. Was he actually adopted? You didn’t remember but that didn’t matter. Mr. Wayne has a habit of picking up strays almost as bad as Batman and Tim Drake was lucky enough to end up under his umbrella of wealth.

You had 3 classes with Tim Drake. He was smart and most of the teachers liked him well enough, in fact most of the school liked him. You however hated him. Sure he was cute and he seemed nice enough and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it but something about him was just off. Like he had some big secret or something.

No one at school seemed to agree with you on that. They all thought he was a perfect angel so you stopped trying to convince them of your anti-drake agenda a long time ago. Thankfully you had one person in your life who always listened to your rants.

“He sounds like a douchebag,” Red Robin said, sitting cross legged on your bed with an ice pack against his lip. Through some minor computer shenanigans, aka illegal hacking (nothing to bad), you had met and become close friends with none other than Red Robin.

It was a mutually beneficial friendship. For him it was an apartment almost exactly halfway between safe houses so on nights like tonight when he was a little bloody and bruised he’d stop by and you’d help patch him up. For you it was a captivated audience for your late night rants.

“Oh he totally is! Thank you for that, no one ever agrees with me,” You rolled your eyes thinking about how many times you’d heard people gush about the billionaire brat. You sat down across from him and opened the first aid kit you’d just dug out from under your bed.

You were too busy rifling through the various bandages and ointments to notice your vigilante friend desperately trying to hide his smirk. “Yeah no problem,”

“He’s way smart too, which is super annoying.” You found the healing gel you were looking for. “I swear he’s hiding something, he must be like an alien or a robot or-” You looked up to see a laugh-suppressing-grin on the heros face, “Don’t laugh, I'm serious! This guy is a pain and just because he’s hot people let it slide!”

Red's face went completely serious and you could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks tint pink underneath his domino mask but then again his left side had a sizable cut on it so you really couldn’t tell. “You- you think he’s hot?”

“That is so not the point I'm trying to make!” You rolled your eyes and dabbed a bit of gel on the cut. “But yeah, his looks are like, his only redeeming quality.” Once you had laid a thin layer against the cut you used some butterfly bandages to hold it closed. It was exactly pretty but it would heal well, and the gel would make it nothing but a small scar in a week or so. “You know, you kinda look like him. Is that what you're hiding?” You used this opportunity to tap the bottom edge of the mask, resisting the urge to just take it off right then. “Rugged good looks and a billionaire smile.”

“Oh ha ha,” He retorted sarcastically, lightly moving your hand away from the fabric. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t dying to know his identity. It’s not that he didn’t want to tell you, it’s just that he’d heard you complain about his alter ego enough times to worry about your reaction, plus the whole ‘your-life-would-be-in-constant-danger-if-you-knew’ thing. Lately he’d found himself going out of his way to end up knocking on your window and he didn’t want what you had to change.

“You're no fun.” You huffed, hoping off the bed stashing the first-aid kit once again. You heard a small buzz and knew that Red had gotten an alert.

He stood up, and listen for a second. You could only guess he was getting instructions via earpiece. “Got it, I’m on my way.” He called over coms before turning back to you with an apologetic look.

You spoke before he could get an apology out. “Let me guess, some goon’s breaking open an ATM and everyone else is busy?”

“Pretty much yeah,” He ducked under your windowsill onto your fire escape. “Thanks for the help. I don’t know where I'd be without you.”

“Probably at that robbery already,” You gently shoved him the rest of the way through the window and bid him farewell. You watched him grapple off into the dim moonlight before getting back into your bed. Over the past few weeks you’d started staying up later just in case a certain someone happened by, this of course made that full 8 hours a little harder to come by. You didn’t really care though, a little less sleep for a little more time with him seemed like a fair trade.

The next morning finally came and you weren’t exactly pleased to hear the familiar beeping of your alarm clock. Still you forced yourself out of bed, pulled your uniform on and got your stuff together before heading out the door to another day at Gotham Academy.

You didn’t have any classes with Tim on Friday’s but you usually saw him passing you in the hall or at lunch. Today was different. One might even say he was avoiding you, but why. You saw a glimpse of him quickly heading away from you before second period, and at lunch you got a great view of the back of his head for about 30 seconds before he ducked out to go who knows where. Sure, you weren’t exactly friends but today it seemed he’d gone completely out of his way to make sure you didn’t see him. And it was pretty successful, at least until you literally collided with him.

School had let out and you had almost left the building before you remembered you’d left something behind, on your way back to your locker you turned a corner without caution and slammed into him at full force. It was a classic early 2000s movie scene, papers and books flying and strewn across the floor, both parties crouching down to collect up their scattered items and inevitably accidentally grabbing the wrong paper or two.

“Ah sorry, i’m so sorry I didn’t see-” That’s when you actually saw who it was you’d bumped into. “Tim?” You handed him the printed out english paper that definitely wasn’t yours.

“Sorry, I should have been watching where I was going.” He apologized as you both stood up and placed your papers in your respective books bags. Something about him was even more off then usual. He wouldn’t even meet your eyes, in fact he kept his gaze firmly to his left. Maybe he’d somehow heard you complain about him and now he wanted nothing to do with you. Maybe you’d messed it all up.

You were about to awkwardly say bye and shuffle off when a locker a little ways away from you slammed shut, startling you both and causing Tim to finally look to his right.

“Whoa what happened to your face?” You asked leaning in slightly to see the hefty gash that had been carefully held together with butterfly bandages. “That looks just like,” It clicked. “hOLY-”

“SHHH!” Tim acted fast, he clapped a hand over your mouth, effectively putting your mind shattering realization on silent and rushed the both of you into a thankfully unlocked maintenance closet nearby.

Suddenly a bajillion pieces were falling into place in your mind. Tim cursed. “God, if you know now what I think you know you’re gonna have a lot of questions. So I'm gonna move my hand but you have to be quiet about it. Ok?” He spoke softly and full of concern. After all, he may have just caused a massive overload in your brain. Your kind of enemy and your closest confidant were the same damn person, who knows what that could do to someone’s psyche.

You nodded profusely, still unable to even conjure a sound. Slowly Tim lifted his hand away from your mouth and watched you closely. You didn’t say anything for a beat, you just stared back at him and then, “What the actual fuck! You’re him and he’s- which means- I mean all this time- and… what?!?”

“Umm yeah?” In all honesty this was going better than Tim had imagined it would. Whenever he’d envisioned you finding out it usually started with you cursing him out and ended with you never talking to him again, but now here he was. You hadn’t cursed him out exactly and you were kind of still talking to him so overall, better than expected. “I wanted to tell you ages ago I swear. I just know how you feel about… well me,” He gestured down to his civilian attire. “and I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

“All this time,” You were still definitely in shock. “All this time you were him and he was you! And you never told me! I talked about you to you! I called you hot!”

“Oh yeah, thanks by the way.” A shit eating grin had made its way onto his face and you were not pleased.

“Oh fuck off!” You sunk down to sit on a little step stool that happened to be in the closet. “I can’t believe I was so dumb. I mean how did I not see it sooner!”

Tim crouched down in front of you. “To be fair, we put a lot of effort into keeping our secrets.”

“We? Wait a second! If you’re Red Robin, that makes Batman-”

“Yup.”

“And Nightwing-”

“Oh yeah.”

“So Robin is-”

“A total pain in the ass. But yeah, it’s Damian.”

“Holy shit!”

Tim finally let himself laugh a bit at your reaction. You were smart and he knew that, there had been a few times over the past few weeks when he thought you might put it all together and he’d gone out of his way to cover it up. Including (but not limited to) a leaked story to the tabloids about a Tim-Drake-kidnapping-attempt that was thwarted by the one and only Red Robin.

While the tabloids weren’t the most believable sources it had planted a seed in your brain that Red Robin and Tim Drake were in the same place at the same time. Of course thanks to that cut on his cheek he wouldn’t need to lie to you anymore.

“Don’t laugh! I can’t believe I didn’t see this months ago. I mean your stupid mask doesn't even cover that much!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms in the air to emphasize your point.

Tim lightly grabbed your arms and brought them back down. “Ok ok, i’m serious but you seriously need to calm down.” He still had a massive grin on his face.

“I am calm!” You defended. “I mean considering. Wait, how did this start? Did you have to train long? When did you find out who Batman was? Is he really a Vampire?” You rattled off questions a mile a minute, finally the shock and slight annoyance had given way to pure curiosity.

Tim looked around the small maintenance room, contemplating a really bad idea. “I can’t explain anything else here, but if you want I can take you to the Batcave? I mean you’ve already guessed most of the secrets and even if I don't tell you the rest you’ll probably figure it out anyway.”

a/n: I broke 2k and couldn’t figure out a satisfying ending so I just called it here but if y’all show this one some love i’ll do a part too (guest appearances and everything)

taglist: @starship-argo @reveriecore @luvcoy @instabull @littlered-fangirl click here to be added :)

[femininefutbol]

she like likes you

idea from here (107)

prompt: you have been best friends with alexia putellas for you entire live but suddenly those feelings change into something more 

word count: 2k 

a/n: it is my first time writing in this sort of style so i hope it isn’t horrible, please let me know what you think! 

-

You are sitting in the locker room before your game, it is a big one, probably the biggest game you have ever had to play. The Champions League Quarter-Final, the El Clásico, the sold out game at Camp Nou. 

As much as you are excited, you are also extremely nervous. As a lifelong culer you know how important this game is not just for the team but also for the fans, you know you have to play well and make your team proud. 

“What’s wrong, mi amor?” Alexia asks tentatively, waving her hand in your face in order to gain your attention. 

“I’m fine la reina” you reply teasingly, knowing how much Alexia hates the nickname the world has adopted for her. 

“Clearly” she teases back, “we are heading out for warmups, meet us out there” Alexia states sweetly turning to leave the locker room. 

“I can come now, wait a second” you raise your voice, making your way off the bench to follow Alexia out of the room. 

“Unless you plan on warming up with no socks or shoes on I will be meeting you out there” Alexia responds with a cheeky wink causing you to look down at your feet, seeing that you are in fact not wearing socks or shoes. 

-

You make your way out onto the pitch looking around in awe, there are already dozens of people making their way into the stadium and soon enough you will be playing in front of them and many more. 

“(Y/N) finally! We thought you had died or something” Mapi teases pulling you over towards her group so you can join in the warmups. 

“You thought I was dead and didn’t even bother to check on me?” you ask in mock offence. 

“Nah, that is the captain's job and she didn’t seem too concerned that you weren’t out here so we weren’t too worried” at Mapi’s mention of Alexia you look over to where she is warming up on the pitch. 

For the first time ever you notice just how beautiful she looks with her game face, it isn’t the first time you have seen her stoic look, it is essentially her default look but it is the first time that you have really appreciated it. 

Suddenly a ball hits your feet, you look around to find where the ball came from as you do you notice Alexia jogging towards you, a small smile tugging at her lips as she begins to speak to you. 

“Hello, (Y/N)” Alexia waves her hand in front of your face again, just as she did earlier in the locker room. 

“Yeah, what sorry?” you ask, having not heard what she said previously. 

“I said, are you feeling okay? Do you need to be checked out by the medical team? I know you want to play but if you aren’t feeling well it will be better to rest now and hopefully be well enough to play the semi-finals” Alexia rants on worriedly, obviously concerned that something is wrong with you due to how distracted you had been all day. 

“I’m fine Lex, it’s just a big day, a lot to take in, I will be okay to play though” you respond, your cheeks slightly flushing as you think about how concerned Alexia is about you. 

“Okay good, I wouldn’t want to not play the biggest game of our careers together” Alexia smiles brightly, a rare occurrence for her on game days, “now get back to warmups, we don’t want you straining a muscle” she states with a stray chuckle as she heads back across the pitch, juggling the ball she initially came over to receive. 

“So when are you going to tell her you like her?” Mapi asks, a small smirk tugging at her lips. 

“She knows I like her Mapi, we are best friends” you roll your eyes, actually beginning to warm up so you will be ready to play. 

“She knows you like her, but she doesn’t know you like like her” Mapi emphasises the use of the double ‘like’. 

“Are we in grade school?” you ask, not waiting to receive an answer as you jog away. 

-

Before you know it you are lining up in front of the massive crowd at Camp Nou, looking around proudly as you realise that your childhood dream is coming to fruition. 

Everything you have ever dreamed of is right in front of you and you just can’t wipe the smile off your face. 

The first half of the game is probably some of the worst football you have ever played in your life, you know it and everyone else does too. 

Making your way into the locker room you keep your head down, even though this game is equal at 1-1 and Barcelona are up 4-2 on aggregate it still doesn’t stop you from being completely disappointed in your own efforts thus far. 

There is the classic talk by the coaches and Alexia about pressing higher, not giving the ball away, finishing chances, you don’t really listen to them though. Instead you sourly reflect on how horrible you had been, this was your chance to live your dream and you were absolutely ruining it. 

“Are you sure you are okay (Y/N/N)?” Alexia sits next to you without any warning as the rest of the team breaks off into small groups, speaking to each other about tactics for the next half of the game. 

“I’m not sure I am, you should tell Jonatan to substitute me out for the second half” you respond, a frown on your face as you resent every word tumbling out of your mouth but you know it would be for the benefit that someone else plays instead of you. 

“I’m not going to do that” Alexia states casually, rather than replying you look at her curiously, wondering why she would potentially allow for the downfall of the team when she could just use her power as the captain to make the decision to bench you. 

“You are an incredible player (Y/N), this is a big occasion, it is daunting for all of us but now we know what to expect, we have all played an admittedly horrible half of football but now we go out there, show everyone what we are made of and prove that barca are the best team in the world” she encourages you, smiling brightly as a small smile tugs at your lips due to her pep talk. 

“This is why you are the captain, la reina” you tease. 

“As your captain I am now telling you that you need to stop calling me that” she jokes back, you can only tell it is a joke due to the small giggle that escapes her lips as she walks to the door of the locker room, preparing to lead the team out for the second half. 

-

The second half does not start as well as Alexia’s pep talk made you believe it would, you are playing better sure but that doesn’t stop Real Madrid from scoring their second goal of the evening. 

Now that they are only one goal behind there is a real change in the attitudes of your teammates and yourself, everything is much more serious and everyone is much more hungry for a goal. 

A few minutes after Real Madrid’s goal you receive a pass from Jenni, you dribble the ball into the 18 yard box finding space between two of their defenders, you fire the ball straight into the bottom right corner not even giving Misa a chance of saving it as the ball makes it’s way into the back of the net before she can get her hands on it. 

You run across the pitch proudly kissing the Barcelona badge, when you come to a stop you immediately find yourself in Alexia’s arms, herself being the first teammate to reach you. 

“I knew you could do it mi amor” Alexia whispers in your ear, quickly moving away from you to allow the rest of the team to celebrate your goal. 

Less than five minutes after your first goal you find yourself in space to score another, a wayward pass from Fridolina hits the side of your leg, you are able to run to the ball that tumbled forwards from the contact, you control it quickly and kick it up into the top right side of the goal marking that your second of the game. 

You find yourself sliding on your knees in front of the fans proudly showing off the Barcelona badge again, pride radiating off you as you have just scored a brace in front of the biggest crowd of your life at Camp Nou. 

Again the first person to reach you is Alexia, she lifts you to your feet, a huge smile on her face, “you are incredible, never doubt yourself again” she speaks sternly, the smile never leaving her face. 

“Now time for your goal” you tease knowing there is no way this game could come to an end without Alexia scoring.

“Nope, time for your hattrick” she responds with the same teasing tone. 

Neither of you knew that you’d actually both be correct. 

The next goal is credited to Alexia as it tumbles into the goal, no Real Madrid defenders or Misa able to stop it. While not the prettiest, the entire crowd goes absolutely wild. Alexia bows to the crowd, as she does you giggle slightly, not able to contain your excitement as a bow to the crowd is definitely a reasonable enough excuse for more ‘la reina’ teasing. 

The final goal of the game is then yours, a cross from Fridolina that deflects off Aitana and into the air gives you the perfect opportunity to poke it into the goal, securing you a hattrick and Barcelona a definite place in the UWCL semi-finals. The goal celebration is much the same, a knee slide with Alexia being the first person to reach you. 

“Fancy seeing you here” you tease as she hugs you tightly. 

“I am so so proud of you (Y/N/N)” is all Alexia responds, no teasing back, the sincerity in her voice makes your heart swell, a new and unexpected feeling occurring. 

-

After the match the team and yourself walk around the stadium celebrating the massive win with all the fans. At some point, somehow Alexia finds herself with a drum, the entire team hyping her up as she plays it and the rest of you singing along in celebration. 

Once she hands the drum back to the fan, she looks at you and you would know since you are looking directly at her, a stupid grin resting on your face in admiration of her. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks, not quite understanding the nature of your stare. 

“She like likes you” Mapi comes up behind Alexia speaking quietly so only the three of you are able to hear. 

“MAPI!” you yell causing the defender to back away with her hands in the air, laughing as she knows the damage is already done. 

“Is she telling the truth?” Alexia steps closer to you, you look down immediately not feeling brave enough to look her in the eyes. “Mi amor, is she telling the truth?” 

“I only started releasing these feelings today but yes I think she is right and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, we can just be friends, I’m okay with that, more than okay actually-” you rant, scared of the reaction that your best friend will have to your admission. 

“(Y/N)” she states softly, placing her hands gently on your cheeks to force you to look at her, “I like like you too” she chuckles, a wide smile left on her face as she finally had the opportunity to admit to her not so little crush on you. 

[loserboyfriendrjl]

queerdeadwizards's 2k celebration! ♡

a/n: first of all, thank you so much for 2k! i never thought i'd get this far, honestly, and i am so grateful for each and every one of you. thank you for everyone that stayed through all the wips, all the rants, to the people who interacted (more or less, is that relevant?) and for everyone that decided that my blog was good enough to click the follow button. i'm so grateful for all of you, and i love each and everyone of you so much. a heartfel "thank you!" to all of you! <3

as in the for celebration itself, there are no rules! feel free to send as many submissions as you want! the celebration will last two weeks, and, if the submissions are enough to do it, my plan is to only post celebration asks for the time being.

to go on, the submissions are...

🎤: give me something to say! whether you want me to voice (quite literally) my opinion or something, want me to give a shoutout or just say hello, this is the submission for you!

✒: give me something to write off of! whether it is a prompt, dialogue or word, i will take any and all of it! (feel free to mention a certain character or ship if you want to and, in case it's a ship, specify a preferred (not mandatory) trope)

❔: questions! about headcanons, or my life (as long as they don't become too personal, in which case i will not answer them) and my blog, or anything else! feel free to go wild!

🕹: games! fmk, cym, anything else you have in mind! however, please specify which and on what theme, so as to know what exactly should i do!

🎧: (moots only) let me make a playlist for you! (based on vibes, around 5-10 songs)

✉: (moots only) i'll write a personalized, handwritten letter/note for you! (this will be sent in dms or be answered as a private ask, so feel free to request it via dm too)

📷: i will make a pinboard for you! (based on either your blog or the way i perceive you as a person (moots only), please specify which one. around 20 pins, will post link unless you ask me not to)

🧿: other! anything! let your imagination go wild!

[widowsofchaos]

Could you do the prompt #60?

❝ mine

summary: Wanda isn’t too fond with how close a certain Captain is to you. pairing: Wanda Maximoff x black!reader warnings: fluff, jealous Wanda, a smidge of jealousy, and smut. Filthy use of the Slovakian language. Palm kissing aka my weakness. ao3 // requested from this prompt list a/n: Wanda is my wife, your honor. Hope I did my lover justice. Carol Danvers cameo. requested prompt 60: “Pay attention to me.” 2k words. Sorry for this late request, writer’s block is a menace. No beta, all mistakes are my own. do not repost my works

It was late into the night, and Wanda’s spirits were more alive --- and enraged.

Anxiety and adrenaline bleeds through her witchy fingers, sparks zap dully at the tips, clutching her cup of liquor tightly.

Downs a hefty sip, a hiss, her lips snarling as the firewater trickles and burns down her throat --- Samogon, or how you cheekily teased, “Mother Russia’s own moonshine. Ruthless just like her children --- I mean look at Natalia, she puts vodka in her cereal.” A tiny smirk curls at her lips, your faint laugh lulls her in the memory.

A familiar giggle catches her ears once more --- melodic, soothes her ears, but Wanda scowls, knowing exactly what’s making you laugh. Her knuckles strain white, gawking over her shoulder, peeking eyes glow dangerously crimson red.

The party is amidst bustling with drunk melding bodies, great food, endless playlist of music --- ever so luxurious --- as every party Stark throws; regardless it being a private party among friends.

Across from the bar, near the lounge couches, you seated with your silhouette legs crossed, your head tilted back, tipsy giggles slipping from your lips; seated next to you was a certain Captain.

Oh no --- not Captain America, he was busy cuddling with his lovers, how he slurs lovingly ‘my Bucky, my Sammy.’ Steve and Bucky two fingers deep in Asgardian Ale, with Sam edging deep in whiskey. All three sharing kisses in the far corner, ready to sneak back to their room for late night loving.

Shamelessly undressing you with her eyes was Captain Danvers herself, her arm slung over your shoulders, deep in casual conversation with you. Simple maxi dress, adorning your hips, softly encasing your figure, low cut that amples your breasts --- and Carol was eating it up.

To the outsider’s eye, it would be seen as friendly banter, tipsy chuckles -- but Wanda knew better. Her eyes flicker to her wedding ring --- sparkling red --- the same one that twinkles on your marital finger.

She clicks her tongue --- Wanda indeed knows better. The friendship between Carol and yourself is fairly a new one, naturally gravitating towards Carol, how curious and intrigued you get to meet another inhuman besides Wanda and yourself.

No surprise how natural conversation flows between the Captain and yourself --- everyone you meet gravitates to you like a magnet, treating one as if they were an old friend.

You look delicious --- as always. Beauty that makes anyone double-glance, delicate yet intimidating. That glow, you carry a shine, an essence, a force of nature, but it’s so much more. Beneath the surface, radiates comfort, you can break any stoic façade with that wattage smile. Wanda and yourself match, a perfect yin-yang, one and the same, and Wanda loves it.

Both of you can feel it, see it, taste it.

Clever fingers, clever lips, clever tongue. Clever small hands carving Wanda’s hardened façade, in the quiet, warm and intense moments in time, where Wanda can be vulnerable, finally shed waterfalls over her losses, let her rant and rage without judging eyes --- where she can lay her heart in your hands, and she knew, you handle with care.

Because you know her, understand her. Able to simmer her down, know where her emotions stem from the deepest crevices of her spirit.

The endless drinks were nice, but Wanda rather be with you, somewhere else. She rather prefers to be in your shared quarters, with the babies, eating sugar snaps, and watching tv. A cozy night-in, and finally would tuck Billy and Tommy in their cribs; sneak away to bed, caress and cradle each other till succumbing in deep slumber.

But --- you convinced Wanda, thinking tonight’s party was a good reprieve, to relax with friends, and drink till merry, without the stresses of motherhood. Now, she battles another stress, another grievance.

Green-eyed monster rearing its head --- jealousy.

‘She’s full of shit.’ A sultry Slovakian spite lingers in your mind --- only in your mind, a sharp side-eye, you glance to see Wanda, nursing her drink --- halting your pinched fingers from twirling your flute.

Slightly puckering your lips, restraining a grin splitting from ear to ear, you coyly titled your head at Carol, who was complimenting the tattoo that adorns your shoulder-blade. How slyly Carol’s fingertips trace the tatted lines, feigning curiosity.

‘Her hands all over you, fucking kurva.’

‘Pay attention to me.’

A dull clank of a glass against the counter could be heard. A breathy chuckles escapes from your nose, as you can feel Wanda’s eyes burning holes in the back of your skull, and no doubt, dying to literally burn holes in Carol’s blonde dome. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay, my head feels light.” A polite excuse without offending Carol from your erupt leave.

“Awh, already? It’s not even late, grandma.” Carol teases, as she presses the rim of her beer against her lips --- her fifth one tonight --- tangy flavor of Budweiser weighing on her tongue, fueling her mischief. “Who are you calling grandma, I wasn’t the one born in the sixties.” A few strings of chuckles, you graciously depart from Carol, as she wiggles her slender fingers goodbye.

Waltzing to the bar, your hips swaying, placing the flute on the counter; sitting next to a stewing witch. Elegantly perching your elbows on the marbled bar, your nails flicker delicately as your wrists bent against your chest, coyly swinging gently on the bar stool. Slyly peeking from the corner of your eye, you catch Wanda staring at you.

Tenderly covering her glass with your palm, tugging it out of Wanda’s palm, and gliding it away. “Let’s go to bed.” You slither, eyes glassy --- the champagne bubbling light in your head, skin tingling and aching for Wanda’s touch; your eyes rover over her figure, curves snug in a velvet maxi dress.

Auburn hair coils in slick waves, draped over her smooth shoulders. Leaning in, you can smell the liquor wafting from her slick lips, Wanda tsks, cheekily leaning towards you; her fingers sought out to your thigh, gripping the flesh.

Lips now hairs away, “Oh --- now I exist?” Wanda sneers, sultry, her accent weaving out in a hiss. “Don’t be like that.” You tsk, smoothly gliding off the stool, your fingers sliding against Wanda’s open palm, interlocking softly. Wanda murmurs, be like what? As she pouts, gazing at your heart-shaped lips.

“Now, is my wife going to bed with me or is she going to hex the Captain?” The pad of your thumb caressing Wanda’s finger, trying to tame the witch. “I prefer hexing her, and then ravishing you on the glass table for her to see --- želá si, aby ochutnala vašu kundu, vašu šťavnatú ako sladkú broskyňu.”

Filthily whispering in her native tongue, her fingers curving, and bending graciously as carmine magic emits. The warmth of her breath beats against your cupid-bow, ever so close to your lips; tantalizing, more intoxicating than any ale in all the realms.

Wanda pulls away, earning a whine from you, she hushes your lips by the tip of her oval nail, “Behave till we get back to our room.” With no other word, Wanda snags your wrist in her grip, dragging you out of the party into the dark hallway.

Scattering feet wander through the compound halls, only clicks of heels echo and pierce through the silence. Dancing shadows linger on the walls, breathy moans, wet lips. Wanda’s palm glides and grips the curve of your neck, pinning you against the wall --- just a mere inches away from your apartment door. “I can’t wait any longer.” Wanda growls low in her throat, her antsy hands.

Slithering fingers slip under the hem of your bunched up dress, feathery fingers chilled at the tips from the glassed liquor caress the skin of your inner thigh. Earning a silky hiss through your teeth, as Wanda’s lips parts open upon yours as if breathing in your essence; as her fingers dove beneath the fabric of your thong. Soaking her left handed fingers between your velvety lips, your fingers cling onto Wanda’s hips, sneakily massaging her soft ass through the smooth fabric, bundling up her cheeks. Groping, and squishing.

“Do you feel it?” Wanda asks, dripping with lust, a dull spark zaps at your clit, jolting you with a whimper, teasingly Wanda left your throbbing clit to toy with your clenching hole, but she doesn’t slip inside you. Yearning for her to touch you more, plunge and curl to the point of delirious pleasure. Delightful swell swirls in your heart, a flicker in Wanda’s eyes --- something you couldn’t quite pin.

All she can see is Carol’s hands touching you, touching what is hers, Carol’s slithering eyes roaming your breasts, and curves. It wasn’t your fault, no --- you were just being a good friend, engaging in conversation --- but she felt abandoned. As if Carol swooped you away, like a thief in the night. Stealing a treasure that didn’t belong to her nor deserve it.

You’re her wife --- you are hers, just as she is yours.

“I need to feel all of you.” A mess of words, gasping breaths, as Wanda happily snuck her two fingers inside your spongy walls, fluttering, and quivering thighs. Thrusting with no hesitation, your hips crash against the palm of her hand, tangling tight as a tether, curling fingers beckoning in a salacious curve. Pulling you close, her fingers digging in your hip-bone, breasts to breasts, melting against the wall, kissing you, your mouth, your cheeks, the slope of your nose --- delicately pecking your shut lids.

The palm that cradled your hip, traveled the terrain of your waist, and glided upon the arch of your spine, traveled between the shoulder blades, her touch eliciting sensitivity on her bare flesh, and cupping the nape of your neck. Fondling your neck, as her lips never wavered from your face, remaining as she continued her shower of kisses, as she fucked your cunt with vigor --- unrelenting, your wetness echoing with unabashed squelching.

A wet spot formed the dead center of Wanda’s panties --- just the sounds of you can make her cum on the spot. Sticky against her peach-fuzz, your legs sliding against hers, as her fingers continue with no interruption. Wanda’s wet panties stick to the skin of your thigh, humping with desperation, the sensation of syrupy cotton and heated bare skin nearly drove Wanda to the brink of endless bliss.

“She can’t have you ---” Wanda groans, her pupils almost rolling to the back of her skull, as the lips of her cunt split and ride even harder against your knee. Nearly gliding down the wall pavement, clinging onto each other in a loving embrace, “---she can never have you.” Wanda whispers in the shell of your ear, her teeth graces sharply the line of your jaw, her tongue licks a wet glide, sucking and nibbling on your pulse-point, marking her territory.

As one palm cups Wanda’s ass, guiding her as she unravels on your thigh, a hand leaves to her shoulder blade, your fingers flicker with her straps, pulling it over Wanda’s shoulders, and with a frenzied impulse, tug the fabric down --- Wanda’s milky breast spills out, still swollen with breast milk.

Pink areolas hardened by the cool air, your moist tongue peaks from your lips, and the tip flickers against the dripping nipple. Leaning your head down on Wanda’s chest, suckling greedily --- nearly her whole tit was engulfed in your mouth, sloppily slurping.

A shriek nearly bubbles at Wanda’s throat, cradling your head in her arm tenderly, kissing your temple, her nose inhaling your scent --- always emanate a tender scent of crushed roses; as your chin drips with milk. “Mine, you’re mine.” Wanda wispily moans, as you drank from her tit, saliva coating the corners of your mouth. Moaning at the taste on your tongue, satisfying your carnal palate --- the vibration sending a shimmer up the crevices of Wanda’s spine.

Sweat beads at your brow, as sweat drenches Wanda’s baby hairs clinging onto her temple, mouthing ‘love me, love me’, her fingers pulling the threads of silk from the jewel between your legs, now drenched. Two gardens watering, the petals of tulips bloom. Your thigh now slippery, grinding her clit hard, slow thrusts --- riding out, edging herself; refusing to cum without you.

As if you were a fragile china doll, shakily Wanda’s spidery fingers brush against heated skin, sweeping the arch of your neck, dancing down on smooth brown shoulders, downward to the line of your fore-arm.

Leisurely slowing down her fingers that rested inside your moist caravan, sinuous fingers kiss the skin and daintily hold your wrist, pulling away from her bum. Lifting, and lightly twisting upward to bare your exposed wrist; you halt, hesitantly your eyes peer up at Wanda. Cheeks dewey, and dusted pink.

Lips part from Wanda’s sodden breast, a string of saliva connects from your bottom lip; as if time ceased still, bringing your wrist to her lips, her eyes never leaving yours. A breath hitches in your throat, open mouthed kisses trail up, lovingly your fingers cup her soft cheek, her lips plush at the cusp of your palm. Wanda’s eyes are two moons, hauntingly beautiful, makes your spirit want to create a temple in blind faith in the name of love, yearning to worship; the waves of love coils off of each other.

Hot breath is a hymn, cascades against your hand, slow and soft kisses --- a tingle at your fingers. A simple gesture yet holds no bounds of adoration, deeply into each other eyes. Wanda’s fingers lock with yours, her wet lips part against the pad of your thumb, her teeth nip, her tongue lick ever so faintly; sucking the finger between her lips.

Erotically Wanda’s hips began its tirade once more, her soaked fingers flourish inside you with no mercy --- she knows, oh she knows. You’re close, oh so close, close, close to the edge --- you know Wanda’s close too, by the way her breath pitches ever so higher; just dying to fall over in Wanda’s arms, fevered. Bury inside each other, this unspoken waltz, not needing to verbalize --- it’s there, not always having to be feverish hot fucking, but it can be passionate, desperate, and warm.

To dive deep inside each other, crawl under the skin, and rest there as a love nest.

Foreheads touch, nose to nose, eyes fall into the depths of each other, a mess of entangled limbs --- a splash of kaleidoscope bursts before your eyes, mouths smashing to dull the shrills; cumming hard on Wanda’s fingers dragging it out, as her fingers dragged out, agonizingly so.

A sheen of wetness crashes and coats your thigh as a balm --- witnessing the motion embody each of your faces with each ripple of your orgasms. Memorizing every expression, any twitch, lips shaped in Os, never tearing your eyes away from each other, because you both wanted to --- such beauty.

The smell of Wanda is intoxicating, makes you dizzy, love-drunk, and adored. Resting your bodies on each other, raspy giggles flow, face leaning on face, caressing cheek to cheek, as Wanda nestles her hands on your face. A daze of happiness, the stresses of a green-foaming monster now a faded memory, cuddling each other in a tight hug, just airy laughs muffled in your chests. Just leaning against the wall, full length of your bodies pressed, braced as if being one.

A faint cry of the twins breaks the haze, ever so sync the boys wail for their mothers --- just like clockwork, it must be 2 am; time to feed the hungry bellies of your babies, just like their mama feasted on their mother. Slipping back into reality, fixing each other’s disheveled clothes back to somewhat back to being decent. Frizzy hairs springs in all directions, sheens of sweat now coat your skins, but a sense of relief drapes upon you two.

As Wanda leans her hand on the wall, resting your head on her stretched arm, head tilted as you soothe Wanda’s cheek, watching her, the greenery of her irises shine bright at your glassy brown orbs, as if a fire that can’t be smothered.

Making the butterflies erupt in her chest, making Wanda feel seen in so many ways that she never had before. En pointe, standing tall to kiss Wanda’s lips, light and sweet, resting your head in the crock of her shoulder. Lashes flutter as Wanda holds you to her bodice, with your heart swelling, you whisper to her.

“I will never leave you. Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

[celestialrry]

I wish you would write a fic where...

the main character is the daughter of a really important producer harry is working with and he has a major crush on her but 1) he doesn’t want her dad to feel like he’s taking advantage of her 2) she has a rule of not dating musicians

too young

OOOOOOHHHHHH

HIIII GUYS..... i started school again and honestly for the longest time i've had no inspiration to write but then i got this ask!!! (thank you for your patience anon ily) and was like i love this prompt but then i wrote the first part and had no idea how to continue it,,, but I finally finished it!! ε(♡'-')з (this is me giving you all my love and affection for sticking with me) 

(NOT EDITED)

2k

warnings: alcohol consumption

Harry was in a dilemma.

Usually, he could sweep all his issues under the rug, save them for another day, but this one... he couldn't do that. Not because he didn't want to, but because this problem was more than just a dust bunny on his hardwood floor.

Y/N was the problem.

Or to be more precise, his feelings for Y/N were the problem.

Harry had confidence when it came to his crushes. He was smooth, flirty, and snagged almost every single person he's caught feelings for.

But not Y/N.

No, she was almost unreachable, for quite a few reasons.

One, the only reason he knew her, met her, was through a producer he had been working with the past few months. Arlo was massive in the industry and Harry was flattered when Arlo approached him with interest in collaborating. And only a month into working together, he met Y/N.

Harry's head snapped towards the door that had just burst open, a girl barging into the studio that he had never seen before. She was gorgeous, he had to admit, but he couldn't ignore her blatant disrespect for coming in and making a scene while he, Arlo, and a few of his bandmates were working annoyed him to no end.

"Dad! Oh my god, you will not believe what just happened, I was on my way over here and I fucking bumped into Zach," The girl began ranting, approaching Arlo and huffing as she stood next to Arlo's chair. "Of all fucking people I could see just walking down the street, it had to be him. The world is against me today I swear. Anyways, I brought that drum pad you wanted."

She dug into her big brown bag that was slung over her shoulder and pulled out the music board, placing it on the table in front of Arlo.

"Where'd you see him, Y/N? We're about to go on break and I can leave and go kick his ass in," Arlo checked his watch. "7 minutes."

Y/N, Harry now knew her as, sighed and crossed her arms. "He's long gone by now, think he shit his pants when he saw me walking near him."

"Atta girl, thanks for bringing my board too," Arlo smiled up at her from his chair. He then turned to see Harry, and Mitch staring at the two of them. "Oh sorry guys, this is my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, this is Harry and Mitch."

She turned to look at them and smiled wide. "Nice to meet you!"

"You too." They both said in unison, looking at each other with a smile, before focusing back on Y/N.

"We'll be done soon, if you wanna go out and get lunch." Arlo said, turning back to his daughter.

"Sounds good, just text me," Y/N replied, giving him a smile before turning back to the boys. "Nice meeting you guys, again."

And before they could even respond she was gone.

Two, Y/N was younger than him. 6 years younger to be exact. It didn't seem like much, but when put into perspective, she was 21, only just being legally allowed to drink in the States, and Harry was 27. Practically 30, if you ask him, and he was positive Arlo would have his head if he found out Harry liked his daughter. 

And three, she doesn't date the people her dad works with. 

He had found this out one night when he, Arlo, Y/N, Mitch, and a couple other writers were hanging out at the studio, drinking some wine (she had even exclaimed that this would be her first time drinking red, and Harry was yet again reminded of her age) and chatting after a long day of working. 

Harry and Mitch were laughing with Arlo about the first time they met Y/N, and her comments about this “Zach” guy. 

“He’s my ex, and had worked with my dad on one shitty song that never got far because he’s just so-- music is just not his thing, to put it nicely. But he was an absolute asshole and after him I made rule to never date anyone Dad works with. It would just go terribly.” She explained, letting Arlo take a few more jabs at the guy before stopping him.

So yeah, Harry was in a dilemma. 

In all the time he’d known Y/N, he just kept falling for her. She was kind, funny, beautiful, lit up any room she walked into, and treated Harry like fine porcelain. 

She was just fucking perfect. 

｡:°ஐ

Y/N had probably been in a lot of worse positions than the predicament she was in now.

For example, that time her dad walked in on her and her ex making out in the studio, or her 21st birthday when she got completely wasted and almost got into the wrong car instead of her uber, and the next day found out that the man driving that car was actually a convicted criminal.

So there’s worse things that could happen than her liking Harry.

But it doesn't mean it wasn’t bad.

The thing is, Y/N didn’t fall for anyone easily. Her one and only ex Zach treated her like a queen until he could officially claim her as his. The flowers he gave her before every date remained at the shop and the consistent compliments turned into insults and muttered claims of discontentment. 

Hence why he was her ex. It took Y/N quite a long time to work up the courage to end things with him. He was her first kiss, first time, and first boyfriend. She was yet to find her first love, she never really loved Zach. The way he used to treat her in the beginning, she thinks she loved, but him? No, she would never call him her first love. 

So when Y/N’s time crush on Harry began to develop into real feelings in such a short span of time, it terrified her. She had really never felt this way about someone before; butterflies would erupt in her stomach every time he shot her a smile and her mind would erupt into pure chaos when his body brushed up against her own. 

So yeah, it could be worse, but it certainly wasn't good.

｡:°ஐ

Y/N enjoyed spending time at the studio with her dad, and surprisingly, spending time with her dad’s “co-workers”. Even though she didn't usually hang out with the pop stars and spent time mostly with the backing band/producers (they were usually 50 year old men, but they were pretty nice) she enjoyed herself fully, having lunch breaks and talking about where their children when to school and whatnot. 

Sometimes though, every blue moon, Y/N would hang out with a super star her dad was working with. Usually when most stars are at the studio all they did was record, which was understandable, but she never had the chance to meet a lot of them.

With Harry though, everything was different. It wasn’t just lunches at the studio, or dinner at someone’s house, no, tonight they were going out to a bar. 

It was completely unexpected too, they had just wrapped up a song, and Harry, being in a particularly good mood had yelled out about going to a bar to celebrate. Of course, Y/N ignored his shout, knowing she wasn’t invited, and after Arlo had said something about “not being able to party as much as I used to”, she gave her dad a hug good night and waved a little goodbye to the band. 

“Wait!” Harry had exclaimed, chasing after her in the hallway. “Where are y’going?”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she looked behind her before looking back at Harry. “I was just gonna head back home.”

Harry’s head tilted, and looked at her questionably. “Y’not comin’ to the bar with us?” He practically pouted.

Her brows shot up in surprise. “Oh! I- yeah I’ll go out with you guys.”

Which lead her here, decently tipsy, and sitting in a booth between Harry and Sarah, laughing at a story Adam had been telling. Every now and then she would glance over to Harry just to find his gaze already on her.

Her heart fluttered every time, and if Harry’s cheeks weren’t already flushed from the alcohol, Y/N would have noticed him blush every time they locked eyes as well. 

“M’gonna get another drink, does anyone want anything?” Y/N piped up, a resounding chorus of “no, thank you’s” answering her question. Except for Harry who spoke softly, “A beer? Go ahead and put it on my tab.”

She shook her head at him as he stood up to let her out of the maroon leather booth. “Can’t make you pay for that, I offered.” She said, standing to lock eyes with him yet again. 

“Nope,” He grinned. “You can, and you will.”

“But-”

“No buts.” He chuckled, giving her a dimpled smile.

Accepting her defeat she nodded and squeezed his arm with a murmured “Thank you.” before making her way to the bar.

Harry sat back down again, eyes trailing her figure as she walked away before looking back at the table to be met with knowing eyes. 

“What is it?” He asked, glancing around at everyone.

“You’re whipped, mate.” Charlotte grinned, everyone else nodding in agreement.

“What?! I am not.” Harry pouted, eyes flicking over to Y/N, who was making her way to the table, one drink in each hand, before back to everyone else. 

“She’s really sweet H, you should go for it.” Mitch said.

Harry shook his head, eyes now on Mitch. “I’m not interested in her like that, she’s way too young for me, anyways.”

Just then did he hear the soft hit of his beer and her cosmo land on the table. His gaze trailed up her hands to see Y/N’s shattered face. “Here.” She practically whispered to him.

“I just remembered I have an early class tomorrow, so I should go, but thank you guys for inviting me out.” Y/N explained in lighting speed as she leaned over Harry to grab her purse and toss is over her shoulder. 

Words of confusion were tossed around the table but she was already booking it out of there, leaving Harry just as devastated as she was.

“I think she heard you, H.” Sarah said, frowning. 

Harry let out a muttered “Fuck!” before taking out large bills from his wallet and tossing it on the table. “For my tab, m’sorry, I gotta go.” And he left just as fast as Y/N did, weaving through the tables and people before bursting out the door to see her standing on the street, arm wrapped around her waist and another holding her phone.

“Y/N!”

Her head whipped around to see Harry bustling towards her and she quickly wiped her eye as he approached.

“Wait, don't go,” He said, struggling to find the words. “We all want you to stay, I want you to stay.”

“I have to get to class Harry, plus, I’m too young to be staying out this late anyways.” She grimaced at her own words. 

He sighed, eyes flickering from her own to her lips then back again. “I-fuck, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

This time, she fully turned to face him, brows knitted in distress. “Then how did you mean it? Because honestly I don’t think there is another way to mean it.”

This was his only chance, Harry knew it. 

“I just, I tried for so long to tell myself it was wrong to feel this way about you because you’re so much younger than me, and m’pretty sure your father would have my head if he knew but m’fucking infatuated with you, Y/N. M’so sorry I said that earlier, age is my only excuse for not asking you out and it’s not a good enough excuse anymore.”

With this her mouth was gaped like a fish, and her face was akin to a deer caught in headlights. In a flash her arms were wrapped around his neck and he was holding her waist, reveling in her touch. 

“Oh, Harry,” She pulled away. “I really like you too.” And with that she pressed a swift kiss to his cheek, leaving him a blushing mess. 

“Good, thats... thats good.” He stammered.

“So,” she nudged his arm. “Y’gonna ask me out now?”