#that the sooner I make peace with that the better off I’ll be

[oglegoggle]

I just… I know full well that I’m difficult to love. I know I’m broken and needy and strange. I want so much to be treated with adoration as warm and powerful as the sun. I don’t want to schedule my love life around someone’s actual family life. I don’t want to be a side piece plaything competing with someone’s actual spouse. I want to feel like a legitimate priority in someone’s life for once in my goddamn life.

[toujoursrab]

Prompt: Persist | Pairing: Jegulus (@into-the-jeggyverse) | Word Count: 1008

“What do you want now, Potter? I’m trying to practice.” Regulus snarled once his broom came to a halt in front of the Gryffindor stands. James Potter stood there, leaning against the barrier, his hazel eyes focused on Regulus. Despite being hidden behind a pair of circular glasses, Regulus could make out the mischievous glint in them. Slytherin Quidditch practice had ended almost thirty minutes ago, but Regulus noticed the Gryffindor team’s captain watching them—him—for the last hour.

“Don’t let me stop you, Reggie. I’m enjoying the view.” A bright smile formed on James lips with every word that he spoke. Regulus swallowed and glanced away. James Potter’s smiles were bloody dangerous because they always left Regulus feeling weird. He didn’t even correct him for the ungodly nickname.

“The team is gone, I’m sure you’ve memorized our plays. You were here last practice too.” Slowly, he lifted his head and allowed his eyes to fall back onto James. His grip tightened on the golden snitch that was captured in his fist. “I’d like to finish out my practice in peace.”

“You noticed me?” The Gryffindor’s hand went into his dark hair, causing it to become messier as he pushed his dark locks from his forehead, ruffling his hair. Eventually his hand found the back of his neck. Regulus noticed this was one of James habits. “You didn’t tell Vanity.”

“Whether you have insights to our plays or not, Gryffindor isn’t going to beat us. You’ve lost the last two matches against us. Your Seeker is shit, I commend taking a chance on a third year but surely there were better options?” Before Regulus could go on to critic the Gryffindor team further, James breathed out a laugh. Regulus heart skipped a beat.

“I don’t care about your plays. I’m not watching your team, I’m watching you.” And another beat.

Despite the current state of his heart, Regulus rolled his eyes. “You watch me all the time. At meals, in the corridor, in the library, during our rounds.” Which Regulus suspected James had paired them together on purpose. “You even walked in on me in the prefects’ bathroom.” A memory that still made Regulus blush.

A look of offense formed on James’ face. “I told you that was an accident!”

“Uh huh.” Regulus waved him off. “What are you and my brother up to, Potter? Why must you persist in asking me out every chance you get when I’m not interested? Is this a kink of yours?”

“Padfoot has nothing to do with this. I keep asking you out because I fancy you, and you haven’t accepted my offer for a date yet.” And maybe he did like the chase—Regulus didn’t have to know that part. James was confident the younger would accept his offer for a date sooner or later. In his mind he and Regulus would be great together, he described it once to Remus that they were like yin and yang. It just made sense. Plus, for Regulus to notice James looking at him all those times, he had to be staring back. That meant something.

Regulus wasn’t quite sure he believed Potter. He never showed interest in him before the end of Regulus fifth year, and even then it was James observing him before waving when he noticed Regulus looking back at him. Surely Sirius put him up to this; a new Marauders prank. There was no way someone as bright, fit, popular, so loved and bloody perfect as James Potter would ask out Regulus Black. They were too opposite. It would never work. The only things they had in common were Quidditch, and the fact that Sirius was their brother. Although, Sirius didn’t like Regulus much these days so maybe he would scratch the last one out. Regulus had spent a lot of sleepless nights overthinking this.

“I’m serious about this, Regulus. I want at least one chance, just one date to prove to you that we could work. You might even learn to fancy me!” There was some form of hope in James eyes, he leaned in on the railing. “One date, and if you’re not into it by the end I’ll leave you alone.”

The Slytherin didn’t need time to think before he was declining James’ offer once again. “I don’t want to go out with you, Potter.”

“Regulus—please.” He almost sounded desperate, and Regulus felt himself start to fold just a little bit. He blamed the weakened state of his heart along with James Potter’s stupid smile and messy hair. “Hogsmeade is this weekend. We would have so much fun! Butterbeers, Zonko’s, Scrivenshaft got in new quills, you told Rosier you needed a new set.”

Regulus was just about to open his mouth and make a comment about how James had no right to listen in to his private conversations, when James’ eyes sparkled with mischief and his face broke out into a brightest grin. “How about this. I’ll play you for it.”

“Excuse me?”

James motioned to the golden snitch that was still nestled in Regulus’ closed fist. “First one to catch the snitch wins. If I win you go on a date with me and if you win I’ll never ask you out again.”

It was the sixth year’s turn to let out a laugh. Regulus was the best seeker currently on a Hogwarts team, and James only played seeker once in his Hogwarts career, two years ago when the Gryffindor seeker had gotten ill and he had to fill in. James caught the snitch, and it was a bit impressive, but that game was against Ravenclaw and their team wasn’t up to par that year. There was no way James would be able to catch the snitch before him. Accepting this offer was an easy out. “You got a deal, Potter.” Before Regulus could finish his sentence, James was already summoning his broom.

(And if Regulus decided last minute to let James catch the snitch and win, that is nobody’s business but his own.)

[ghosts-bandwagon]

TF141 + König help you move

Here’s some backstory (bc this is incredibly self-indulgent send help): you take everything upon yourself, plan everything down to the last detail so you just wind up overwhelming yourself and then you’re just running on fumes the entire time, you are not at peace until you’ve moved into the new place, you are a ball of stress aaaand go:

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

He’s very much the type to watch you go, he knows you’re overloading yourself and he wants to step in but he also knows you need to learn how to ask for help

That’s not to say he’s completely hands off, he’s listening to every word when you review your checklist, he’s helping you pack- everything from assembling the boxes to sealing them when they’re full

He’s taken it upon himself to make sure you eat a proper meal

“What’s this?” You ask as you mute your phone while on hold with the utilities company for your new place,

“It’s breakfast. Eat.”

“I already-”

“Iced coffee isn’t food, love.”

Bet

So he’ll take to cooking or grabbing your favorite take out

If you’re worried you forget something, he’ll go down the list with you, going so far as to grab your notebook and review it with you

He encourages you to sort through your belongings and figure out what you want to keep and what you want to give away

His rule: if I haven’t seen you use it, wear it, read it, or touch it in the last six months, it’s going in the giveaway box (save for stuff with sentimental value)

Surprisingly enough, it helps reduce how much you have to pack and you couldn’t be more thankful

All in all, 10/10

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

He’s so much fun to be around

He knows you’re taking on too much and he’ll tell you as much

“I’m fine, Johnny, I just like these things done a certain way. And when the order gets messed up, I have a panic attack.”

“Well, then explain how you’d like it done, and I’ll see to it that it stays that way, sound good?”

He’s so understanding god bless

He does everything possible to make the process stress free, from putting on music while you’re packing and cleaning, to being in charge of snacks 

He helps divide the labor very seamlessly, he does all the physical stuff (packing, cleaning, moving furniture, etc) and he leaves the logistics to you, (utilities, new apt, address change, etc)

If at any point you feel like it’s still too much, he’ll jump in without hesitation 

Just tell him where you’re struggling and what your next task is and he’ll gladly take over

You point, he’ll shoot (or pack, in this case)

John Price:

Like??

Good luck trying to take control of the whole thing

He’s way ahead of you and doesn’t let you do a single thing on your own, that’s not true, he’ll let you do things on your own but not all of it, you get the idea

Man’s a Captain for god’s sake, he definitely has a system to make the process easier

He makes sure you start the process sooner rather than later to avoid scrambling last minute

Before even buying boxes, he’ll sit down with you to come up with a checklist for things to do and what order to pack your place in

He’s very encouraging throughout the whole process

“Phew, almost an hour later and I was successfully able to transfer my car insurance.” You sighed slumping against the table, practically throwing your phone to the other side of the room

“You’re doin’ great, love, keep it up.” He comes up behind you to rub your shoulders and rub your back encouragingly

He’s with you every step of the way

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

I love him but I can see it as being kind of chaotic lmao but still fun!

You better believe he’s got Animal Crossing music on loop

He claims it’ll help you get into the cleaning/packing frame of mind and son of a bitch he’s right 

He sets a hard limit of one to two things a day, so if you finished packing up your living room sooner than you expected and now you want to move on to your bedroom, too damn bad

He’ll physically stop you lol

“You already did enough, babe, it’s time to rest.”

“I feel fine, Ky, I can keep going.”

“Trust me darlin’, take it easy, you’re doing great.”

Definitely the type to give you a treat to help keep you motivated, or even start your day with a treat

You’re dreading calling the new internet company to set up your new wifi? Well guess what? He’s treating you to coffee and a cinnamon roll from your favorite cafe to help motivate you

You’re dead tired after packing up all your belongings in your room, dinner is your pick babe, whatever you want, yes, Taco Bell is perfectly ok 

König:

Very good at following directions and equally good at being perceptive and knowing when to step in without being asked

He knows you have a habit of taking on more than you can handle but he also knows your tells just as well

Increased irritability, you’re more tired than usual, you’re not eating as much, drinking more coffee than you normally do, jittery leg, trouble sleeping, he knows you babe, he sees you

So he does everything he can to prevent you from getting to that point

If you’re complaining about packing all your books, don’t worry about it, he’s on it

You’re stressed about cleaning as you pack, no need, he’s already coming behind you with Clorox wipes, a broom, and a swiffer mop

He encourages you to offload some of your tasks to him, insisting that he knows how you want it done and can do it accordingly

“Schatz, you have so much on your plate already, let me handle renting the truck and getting the supplies, we’ll go over what you want to do first, and I’ll help you do it, ok?”

At the end of the night when your limbs ache from exhaustion, he gently taking your hands in his and massaging the tension away, placing little kisses as he goes

[daemour]

Pairing: royalty!Mingi x royalty gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff, light angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au

Warnings: none

WC: 1898

Summary: You and Mingi aren't friends, not even after marriage. But you're not enemies either. In fact, you don't know where you stand but after an incident maybe it could be something more?

after being complained at for "never writing Mingi" (ahem @mingsolo) here we are! to tide us over while i struggle through nanowrimo i have a handful of prewritten fics so y'all aren't dehydrated

-

“With the power vested in me by the Gods, I unite Princess (Y/N) (L/N) and Crown Prince Mingi Song in holy matrimony, thus joining their kingdoms.”

The priest leads the two of you to join hands, and as you do light shines from within your clasped hands. The ceremony is over and you are now married to the…well, former nemesis of your people. The funniest thing was when you were just toddlers, your parents had even talked about marrying the two of you together. But then something changed. And it wasn’t long before both countries were locked in a war before you even had the chance to talk to the prince for more than your greetings.

It was devastating. Both countries were large and powerful, and the smaller kingdoms around them suffered for it. It was only when his father died that the high empire intervened and, as a result, decided to use your marriage to make peace. Mingi would not be crowned until he was married to you, and the wedding took place much sooner than you had hoped.

Which brings you to now. Neither you nor Mingi talked or even looked at each other the entire carriage ride home. It was not a joyous occasion, not for the two of you. No shared beds, or rooms, just barely acknowledging each others' presence.

In fact, you’re pretty sure he hates you. He rarely acknowledges your presence. You don’t know what to do with yourself in this hellhole. All you do is show your face in the throne room when needed and then retreat to either your private gardens or room until next called for.

“Yuri, could you do me a favour?” you call for your handmaiden, who might just be one of your only friends in this dreadful castle. The servants like you well enough but there’s only some much kindness they can offer before the nobles’ words get to you.

“Yes, milady?” Like a ghost, she moves to stand beside you, her hair glowing in the sun. Sometimes you look at her and feel she would be a so much better fit for the role of queen here. You can barely hold the attention of the court ladies while Yuri can shut them up with a single polite sentence. “How may I assist you today?”

“Could you do me a favour and fetch me some tea? You know my favourite. I’ll take it in my room, and you can take the day off.”

Yuri bows her head. “Thank you, milady.” You can hear the smile in her voice, excited at the prospect of a day off. You wave her off and as she enters the side door, you lean back on your hands and enjoy the rays of sunshine on your face for just a moment alone. You take moments like this with gratefulness, as it’s only when you’re truly alone that you feel almost at home.

With another sigh and a crack of your back, you brush off your full skirts and make your way to your room. It’s when you almost reach your quarters that you run into Lady Miyoung, a lady of high social standing that you heard was rumoured to be marrying Mingi before the war had started.

“Lady Miyoung, what a surprise,” you greet her quietly, tilting your head into a bow. “I did not expect to see you near this wing.” You did not expect her because this area is regulated strictly as only you, your personal servants, and your husband are allowed entrance.

“Oh, yes, a pleasant surprise, I’m sure,” Miyoung sniffs haughtily and your eye twitches. As much as she despises you, she’s popular among the court and if you dare raise a word against her the social exile you would face would be irreparable. “I heard the most interesting conversation the other day, you know.”

“Ah,” you are not quite that interested in court gossip, but if Miyoung found her way into your wing without being stopped, it must be something important.

“I heard,” Miyoung leans in as if you’re sharing secrets about childhood crushes, “that King Mingi has been looking for a second wife to bear him a son. A woman of his court, with high social standing, of course. In fact, I heard that he’s quite sick of his war trophy.”

And her words cut you deep. You know she’s referring to herself as the lady of the court with a high social standing, and that you are his war trophy. She’s not subtle, but she’s subtle enough that you cannot sentence her to anything without the wrath of the court against you. You feel your throat tightening but you force an almost painful smile on your face. “I see. Well, the rumours of the court have no bearing on how I will go about my day, so I thank you for your wisdom. You may leave.”

Miyoung raises a perfectly shaped brow, no doubt pleased at your obvious hurt but also craving more of a reaction. “Now, now, there’s no haste. A court doll like you must have nothing else of interest as her husband, His Royal Majesty, has much more important matters to attend to.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Never before had a court lady been so openly disdainful of you. Behind your back, easily, but to your face and in your quarters? You open your mouth to rebuke her but before a single word leaves your mouth, you hear wind rushing past your ears as a person stands before you. As your eyes move up his broad back your hand flies to your mouth as you recognise the back of Mingi’s head.

“My King,” Miyoung stutters out, just as surprised at his sudden appearance.

“Why are you here?” Mingi’s booming voice echoes in the narrow hallway. “I do not recall you being given permission to be in this area of the castle.”

“Why, Queen (Y/N) invited me herself,” she lies straight out of her teeth.

Mingi looks back at you, his eyebrow raised as he awaits your confirmation. And on any other occasion, maybe you would have folded in your eagerness to please the court, but your heart still stings from Miyoung’s words. You shake your head ever so imperceptibly.

Mingi nods. “I see. Now, Lady Miyoung,” his head snaps back to her and she has the audacity to flutter her eyelashes at him. “Lying to the King and putting words in the Queen Consort’s mouth is a punishment worthy of being stripped of your title.”

“Your Majesty!” Miyoung squawks and Mingi holds up a hand to silence her in the middle of her sentence.

“Not to mention the other offences I heard when walking by,” Mingi continues and Miyoung swallows as she realises the trouble she put herself into. “Spreading harmful rumours about the King and the Queen Consort?”

“You’re majesty, I wasn’t–” Miyoung tries to save herself but Mingi is not having it.

“Keep your snake mouth shut” he snaps “lest I cut your tongue off for disrespecting my wife. You have, by extent, insulted me as well. Second wife? Don’t make me laugh. Queen (Y/N) is a hundred times more the queen you would ever be.”

Before Miyoung could protest anymore, Mingi snaps his fingers and guards you didn’t even expect to be there come out of the shadows to take Miyoung by the arms.

“My King!”

“Mingi!”

Both you and Miyoung gasp in surprise, although yours is more confused and hers is plain offence, but Mingi ignores you both as he addresses his guards. “Take Lady Miyoung to the dungeons while I decide what to do with her.”

And without hesitation, the soldiers drag an offended and whining Miyoung away. It’s only when her hollers finally cease that you snap to attention, quickly bowing at your husband. “I didn’t expect you to be here, Mingi,” you state as he bows back. “I thank you for your help in dealing with Lady Miyoung, though.”

Mingi sighs. “I should’ve done more before, (Y/N), and I’m sorry. I should’ve known how hard it would be for you, moving so soon after the war.”

You shake your head as your hands clutch at your full skirts. “You have no obligation towards me. Lady Miyoung was, in a way, correct about one thing. I am a war trophy.”

“No obligation?” Mingi’s voice raises in volume but he pauses to calm himself down after he notices you flinch at the volume of it. “(Y/N), you are my wife. The furthest possible thing from a trophy. I should have nipped the gossip in the bud—neither of us wanted a war and we could not control our circumstances.” Mingi reaches forward, almost as if to hold your hands, but decides against it, his hands just hovering awkwardly in the air.”

“But you don’t care,” you contradict him, your voice small. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but I rarely ever see you, and the court thinks I’m a joke. I can’t show my face without hearing the whispers behind my back. I do my best to listen to the commoner’s struggles and offer solutions but there’s only so much I can do when the officials and their wives are against me.”

Your words stun Mingi to his core. “You think I’m indifferent?” At your careful nod, he overcomes his hesitation and takes your shaking hands, bringing them to his chest as you are pulled forward at the motion. “My wife, I adore you. I would be lying to call it love, but I hold you in such high regard, and given time, I would come to love you if you’d let me. I am so sorry that you came to that conclusion.”

You hesitate before reaching forward and squeezing his warm, large hands. “It’s okay,” you whisper. When Mingi raises an eyebrow you laugh breathily at his suspicion. “It truly is. Yes, I felt alone and out of place, but your words and kindness have comforted me. We can try again. I’ll attend more councils with you as is my duty, and we can have lunch together afterwards. I’ll do my best to appeal more to the nobles and we can get to know each other. I don’t hold it against you, Mingi.”

Mingi nods slowly as he processes your words. “We shall,” he smiles and you can’t help but smile back. He brings your hands to his lips, pressing a kiss against them. “We will, and that’s a promise. I will defend your reputation with all I can, and you will blossom in this court, I’m sure of it.”

You giggle a little at his phrasing and you give his hands another gentle squeeze. “I will hold you to that promise.” A pause as you stare into each others’ eyes and an idea hits you. “Mingi, are you busy right now?”

Mingi shakes his head. “No?” he cocks his head, his eyes warm.

Your eyes shine as your smile grows even more on your face. “Then please do me the honour of accompanying me to my garden, my King.” You punctuate your question with a short laugh and Mingi’s eyes shine as he nods.

“Please, let’s.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest as you gently pull him down the hall back from where you came.

[damiansgoodgirll]

Can I have Damian Priest x Fem reader where he walks in his room and finds the reader asleep in his bed so he lays down and holds her?

thisssss🥹🥹

damian priest x reader

hold me please

you and damian were used to share car rides when touring, hotels and sometimes even hotel rooms. everytime you were in a different city the staff would make sure to put your changing room next to damian’s one. they all knew about your crush on damian and about damian crush on you, the only people who needed to realise that was you and him.

you were staying in the same hotel but different rooms this time but he gave you his backup key in case something happened.

so while you were showering and wearing something comfortable he told you that he was going at the grocery store that was just a few blocks away because he needed to buy some stuff.

you decided to go straight into his room while waiting for him. it was like a tradition the two of you had. everytime you would share the same hotel but not the same room you would find in each other’s bedroom to spend the night watching movies and shows.

but he was taking too long for your liking and from resting your eyes just a little you ended up falling asleep on his bed.

you didn’t hear the key opening the door and you didn’t definitely hear damian stopping his track when he saw you sleeping on his bed. he silently removed his shoes and his leather jacket and threw them on the little couch next to the front door. he laid the grocery bad on top of the jacket and grabbed the tv remote.

he didn’t even ask too many questions when he saw you fast asleep on his bed, he imagined that you would have come sooner or later.

so while you were peacefully sleeping, damian laid back on the bed next to you and turned the tv on watching some news, not that he really cared about the news but he knew you had this strange addiction that you could sleep better with some noise in background.

he carefully circled your shoulders with his arm and held you closer to his body, letting your head falling on his chest.

he smiled watching at how sweet and peaceful you looked and how he wanted that to happen every single day.

you, sleeping next to him and waking up between his arms. that’s what he dreamed of everytime you were together.

twenty minutes later you wake up from your nap, feeling tired more than ever you wanted go back to sleep but suddenly realised that you weren’t in your room.

“dam?” you called him when you saw him resting next to you.

“hey mariposa…you okay?” he smiled at you.

“tired…” you yawned a little.

“go back to sleep y/n, food will arrive in an hour, you can sleep till then” he said.

“okay…” you went back to sleep but couldn’t find the strength to fall asleep “dam?”

“yes princesa?” he looked straight into your eyes.

“can you hold me please?” you asked him with a soft voice. you didn’t want to make things uncomfortable between the of you so you proceeded with caution.

“of course mi amor, of course…” he smiled to himself and let you come closer to his body. you were now trapped between his legs, your head still laying on his chest and his arms went from your shoulders to your waist, holding you gently.

“thank you…”

“anytime baby…go back to sleep now, i’ll be here when the food arrives” he smiled and you drifted off to sleep once again.

maybe the two of you already realised that what was going on was more more than friendship, you just needed to find the courage to confess to each other.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

you know you never stood a chance - chapter eight

you know you never stood a chance series

eight: in this world, it's just us

series masterlist | prev chapter | epilogue

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 4.8k

Summary: Joel and Ellie return to Jackson.

Warnings: vaginal sex, oral (f receiving), like one spank, cum eating, Joel is mean/bad with feelings (but he gets a little better!), this is not canon compliant, no use of y/n, description of injury, two idiots at the end of the world learn to communicate, author is ugly crying because this is the end

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

They’d told you last night, of course, when Joel and Ellie showed up at the gates. Tommy had come to your door himself. When he knocked in the middle of the night, you had assumed the worst. Not that the real news made you any less anxious.

They were planning on having a little welcome home dinner, nothing fancy, but something fun for the kids. Maria thought maybe it was a good time to take Alice up on her offer to babysit, since she’d have to get used to it sooner or later.

But then Alice volunteered to help do the cooking, and Maria wasn’t sure who else to ask.

“I’ll do it,” you said immediately.

She raised an eyebrow at you, which made you squirm. “Don’t you think you should be there?”

“Nah, I’m sure I’ll see Ellie around,” you said, giving her an overly-fake smile that clearly said, “don’t.”

“Uh-huh. That’s your call. But if you want to volunteer for diaper duty…”

“I’d love to. You should go, have some fun.”

“You sure you don’t want to come? Ellie was askin’ if you’d be there,” Tommy says.

“No, I’m sure. Y’all go on and have a good night. I promise we’ll be okay here,” you say, with little baby Alé cradled in your arms.

Tommy sighs and pinches his forehead in a way horribly reminiscent of his brother. And, of course, “It’s just—” he says, “I know y’all didn’t exactly part on good terms, but my brother, he’s got a weird way of showin’ he cares and—”

“Tommy,” your tone is warning. “For the last time, it wasn’t like that.”

“I saw y’all kissing,” he blurts.

You’re honestly surprised he kept his mouth shut for the last six months.

“No, you saw him try to make himself feel better after I got mad. Ain’t the same thing. Now y’all go on, go do whatever old married couples in the apocalypse do for a good time. And don’t tell me about any of it.”

They each kissed the baby’s forehead before they left, Tommy promising one of them would be back soon.

It’s heading toward summer, the nights not quite so chilly anymore, so you swaddle Alé and go to the rocking chair on the porch. The street is dark, though you can see the soft glow of the mess hall in the distance.

It’s not so dark that you don’t see him walking. His gait is off, not quite a limp, but you’d know that shadow anywhere—the broad shoulders, the puff of hair, the way he seems to hunch into himself to hide away.

“You’re going the wrong way,” you say before he can set off with whatever stupid thing he was about to say.

“Nah, I’m not.”

“Dunno if you heard, but they’re throwing you a party. You’re kind of supposed to be there.”

“So’re you.”

“Nope, I’m babysitting. Got better things to do tonight than look at your ugly mug.”

He shakes his head, standing now at the bottom of the porch steps. The single lamp flickers across his face, drawing shadows where the stress and age eat away at him.

You look away, down to the baby and the peace over her tiny face, softly breathing through dreamless sleep. Or whatever it was that babies dream about.

“Look—”

“Joel, if I wanted to talk to you, I would have shown up.”

“I’ll just keep comin’ back.”

“I’ll tell Tommy.”

“You can’t threaten me with my own brother.”

“Ok, I’ll tell Maria.”

“Damn,” he shakes his head. “You got me there.”

“Go away, Joel. Go enjoy your party.” It’s softer than you meant it to be, and when his eyes catch yours, you know he didn’t miss that.

He gives you a nod, jaw ticking, and walks away. You want to feel victorious, and you do; it just stings all the same.

Maria comes home after an hour and a half. She’s got impeccable timing, as Alé has just begun to stir and realize that you are, unfortunately, not her mother. Nor do you have milk to offer her. Her little face rubs against your shirt while she begins to wail.

“You got a sixth sense about that,” you tell Maria.

She laughs. “Guess I do.”

“It’s kind of neat,” you say. “Like even after decades of technology and convenience, our bodies still know what to do.”

“It is,” she says absentmindedly, and she’s looking at you in a way you do not want to be looked at right now, so you gather up your jacket and your book.

“Okay, cool, hope you had fun, good night!” You make it as far as opening the screen door before she stops you.

“He come by?”

Your mouth drops open. “You betrayed me!”

“Of course I didn’t. Seriously? It was Tommy.”

“That little rat.”

“You wanna go tell him off? He’s still down at the hall.” She’s got a glint in her eye again, the one that makes you feel both laughed at and cared about.

“You’re not funny,” you say, shaking your head and rolling your eyes.

“It was an accident. He did good when Joel asked about you, but then he asked about Alé.”

You laugh, something warm and fond in your chest, even if your heart keeps ticking up a notch. You turn the knob of the front door.

“They liked your gift.”

Damn it, how does she keep doing that? You pause your escape and look up at her, finding honesty there.

“Ellie liked it?”

“They both did,” Maria says, and tells you how several of the townsfolk had, in fact, not liked it, but Joel and Ellie sure did.

You weren’t sure you were actually going to give it to him, time and irritation having grown into anxiety over it. But other people were giving housewarming gifts, and to be fair, you had made it for Joel.

The quilt was folded neatly and tied with twine. Most of it was an array of colors, working with what scraps could be spared. Maria had assured you that keeping folks warm was always a good use.

He hadn’t noticed, at first. She thought maybe he was having some kind of attack, actually, when Tommy told him it was from you. He had gone oddly blank and frozen for a minute. After he came back to himself, he had run his fingers over the worn, soft fabric, and then cleared his throat and moved on.

Ellie didn’t. She was chilly and pleased as punch to have a blanket. When she unfolded it to spread across her lap, she burst out laughing.

“The hell’s the matter with you?” Joel asked her.

She was laughing too hard to breathe, let alone answer him, so he stomped over.

You had saved all the white squares to spell “fuck you” in block letters across the middle of the quilt.

For a moment, he stood there, just staring at it. But between the way it made his chest feel like it was full of bubbles and the way Ellie was now pointing at his dumbfounded expression and laughing so hard she was crying, he couldn’t help it. He joined her, absolutely fucking falling apart in hysterics.

“No way,” you scoffed at Maria when she reached that part of her retelling.

“Yeah. He lost it. Scared some of the kids.”

It doesn’t take him long to notice. He figures he still had an internal sensor wired to be aware of your presence. A safety feature turned bug.

You’re leaning against the wall across the room, just watching. Taking them in from a safe distance. Ellie sees where he’s looking and jumps up, running over.

She throws her arms around your neck and hugs you. You hug her back, the rush of relief at her well-being overtaking you.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” she says

“I’m glad you’re back. And you’re okay?”

She nods and opens her mouth, then looks around at the hall full of people.

“S’ok, you can tell me everything tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Sure thing, kiddo. I’m on patrol in the morning, but I’ll find you after.”

“No, you’re not,” Tommy says, coming up behind you and clapping a hand on each shoulder. He’s looking over Ellie’s shoulder, where Joel hovers on the other side of the room, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Ain’t this your party? Go have fun,” he says to Ellie.

You watch as she bounds over to Joel and points to you, like he hadn’t seen you first.

Tommy gives your shoulders a squeeze and leans in close. “Look, I know ya said you weren’t scared, but you look it. You don’t gotta tell me anything, but if you need me to keep him away from you, just say the word.”

Not for the first time, your heart clenches with fondness, and you duck out of his grasp so you can turn to face him.

“Don’t worry about me,” you say, trying to put as much earnestness into the words and your eyes as you can.

“M’serious. He’s my brother, and I love him, but I know he’s not always done the best things and—“

“Hey.” The sharp tone of your voice stops his rambling. “Thank you, Tommy, seriously. But I promise it’s fine.”

Joel wasn’t going to bother you again. He wasn’t. But then he caught Tommy shooting him a suspicious look over your shoulder, and he can’t stop himself from making his way over.

Tommy’s telling you about your shift change tomorrow, something about having to swap someone to cover for Sam, which turned into a whole mess of scheduling. You’ve been bumped to dinner duty, which is fine by you anyway.

You don’t get to tell him that, though. Something flickers across his face, a wrangled mess of hurt and happiness. It’s the only warning you got.

“Y’ain’t over here botherin’ her, right?” Joel says gruffly.

You roll your eyes. “You two are somethin’ else.”

Tommy rubs the back of his neck, but Joel says, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You spin around to stare him down, arms crossed over your chest. “It means I don’t need either of you playin’ bodyguard, but especially not you.”

“If ya came here just to yell at me, let’s go outside.”

“Fine,” you snap. You hadn’t, actually, but then again, he’s always done this, crawled up under your skin like a tick.

And so you find yourself in a sick copy of six months past, standing and glaring at Joel outside the mess hall, arms folded across your chest.

“Well, go on then,” he says.

You open your mouth to say something mean, anything really, but what comes out is, “Is Ellie really okay?”

He opens and shuts his mouth. “Uh, yeah,” he says, and rubs the back of his neck. “She will be. She’ll be pissed if I tell you everything without her, but we had a real rough go of it, coupla close calls.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, seeing their mangled bodies from your nightmares. You take a deep breath and find him watching you with a pinched brow and a deep-set frown.

“And you? You’re okay too?” you say.

“Yeah, a’course. I’m fine.” He pauses and scratches his beard. “Look, m’not sorry.”

“Fine.” You turn to walk away, to go back and grab your things and get out of there before Tommy can see that you’re upset.

“Now, just hold on a minute,” Joel says, jogging to follow after you. “You hear me out.”

“No thanks. I don’t need an excuse, Joel. We don’t owe each other a damn thing.”

“Can you just stop bein’ a stubborn brat for two goddamn minutes? I’m tryin’ to tell you something.”

You spin around to face him with a nasty sneer you hadn’t worn the whole time Joel was gone. “Maybe I don’t want to hear anything you have to say to me.”

He pushes you up against the wall. It’s not rough, but he’s got a firm grip on your shoulders, and for one fleeting moment, you think about yelling for help. He must see something in your eyes because he drops his arms to his sides and steps back.

“Wasn’t gonna—I wasn’t gonna hurt you.” He mumbles the last bit to the ground, can’t look you in the eye, can’t see fear on your face for the first time.

“Wait,” you say as he turns to leave. “I know you weren’t, Joel.” You can’t look at him either, voice quiet. “I’m just not used to people touching me like that anymore.”

“I’m not—I swear—”

“I know. Joel,” you sigh and look up at the stars, wishing you believed in any higher power to ask for a little guidance. But you don’t; you’ve seen enough that all you trust is your own two feet on the ground and the whole damn Miller clan.

You scuff the toe of your boot in the dirt. “Why’re y’all like this?” you grumble.

“What?”

Whoops. You hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud. You sigh again and look up at him. “We can’t fight. I don’t want Alé to think her uncle and auntie can’t get along.”

“Auntie?”

“Yeah. Your dumb ass left me here with your brother as a watchdog. What did you think was gonna happen?”

Truth be told, he didn’t know. Didn’t really know Tommy anymore. “That’s good,” he says after a moment. “I’m glad ya weren’t alone.”

“Oh, I tried. He’s a persistent little fucker.”

He looks up at you and sighs, shaking his head. “I’m still not sorry,” the words come out fast, like he knows he’s got thirty seconds before you run away again. “Nearly died too many damn times. Don’t think I could’ve gotten us all out alive.”

You’ve thought about this moment more than you’d like to admit. Thought about the things you were going to say, the cruel ways you could dig between his ribs and pry. Thought about slapping him in the face, even. But in the end, you’re too tired of it all to consider any of it.

“If you wanna talk, let’s go someplace and talk.”

It catches him off guard. You feel spitefully pleased that he doesn’t know what to expect from you. But it stings a little, too.

You end up going back to his place. Tommy had wasted no time helping get things set up for them to have a home, hopeful that it would keep them there.

You make tea in his kitchen, using the things he didn’t know he had. He accepts a mug of it, even though it’s decaf.

“Too late for you to be having caffeine anyway,” you scold when he grumbles.

He sits down across from you at the dining table, mug wrapped in both hands. You take a moment to look at him. He looks more than six months older. He’s gone grayer, and there are new scars, new marks on him that you don’t recognize.

He looks away from your scrutinizing, tapping fingers against his mug, and shakes his head. “I ain’t got a thing to say for myself. I’m not sorry I left you here, but I am sorry I hurt you.”

Your mouth runs off without you. “Holy shit. Who are you, and what’ve you done with Joel Miller? An apology?”

But he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t roll his eyes and call you a brat. Instead, he looks down at the table and purses his lips.

It makes you shift in your seat, legs turning automatically to angle for a better escape route. “Hey,” you say, swallowing hard. You wait until he looks up. “It is what it is. I didn’t have any delusions about what this was.” You gesture loosely between you.

“I mighta.”

You feel a lot like the time your sister pushed you off the diving board at the neighborhood pool, limbs flailing until you landed flat on your stomach in the water. “Run that by me again?”

“I got it in my head that you were mine. And then I didn’t like that much, so I told myself I was doin’ what was best for both of us.”

It’s your turn to purse your lips, but you don’t look away, afraid that if you do, he’ll stop talking.

He sighs again. “Look, I ain’t good at this. But I care about ya, okay?”

“Joel—”

“I know you’ve got a life here, now. Don’t know if you’ve got any room in it for me. But Ellie knows it’s my fault you didn’t come, so don’t go pushin’ her away, okay?”

“Joel—”

“And I know you got close with Tommy. I’ll just meet up with him somewhere you’re not, tell him he’s gotta warn you if I’m comin’ over or something.”

“Joel!”

He shuts his mouth, eyes wide.

“God, when you get going, you get going. I don’t think you’ve ever said so many words to me in a day, let alone one sitting.” It’s not what you meant to say. It’s never what you mean to say, and usually, you don’t care about your runaway tongue, but right now, you really want to say the right thing.

You’re not so far. He’s shutting down quick, you can see the walls going back up as he works his jaw back and forth.

“Joel,” you try again, softer. “You don’t have to do all that. I care about you, too. I spent so long trying not to that when you gave me an excuse to hate you, I jumped on it. I’m not any good at this, either.”

He watches your face carefully, peeling his fingers away from his mug and reaching the hand across the table. His warm hand slides between your own and your mug. He cradles it, your right hand in his left. Your breath catches.

You stare at where you connect, his broad palm covering yours. There are fucking butterflies in your stomach, like you’re a fucking teenager. Your ears and the back of your neck burn as you have to bite your lip to keep from grinning.

“What’s so funny?” He starts to pull back.

You tighten your grip and hold on, giving in to the urge to smile. “Not laughin’, Miller. Just,” and you shake your head. “We’re too damn old to be so stupid about this.”

He shakes his head, jaw twitching, before his own smile peeks through. “Y’ain’t wrong.”

You sit there for a few minutes, the silence warmed by your still-steaming tea and clasped hands.

“I know you said we don’t owe each other anything,” he says slowly. “But I was thinkin’ maybe I owe you a better kind of apology.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna get on your knees and grovel for me?”

His smile curls into a dangerous smirk. “I’m gonna get on my knees, but you’re gonna be the one beggin’, sweetheart.”

“Don’t make promises you aren’t going to keep.”

He pulls his hand from yours and takes both mugs, dumping them down the sink while you protest. But you don’t whine about it for long, because he turns and quirks an eyebrow at you. “If you’d hurry up, I was plannin’ on making good on that promise right now.”

You let him pull you up the stairs, trying to leave your anxieties behind on the landing. He’s kissing you before the bedroom door is shut, sliding his hands up your shirt to hold onto your bare waist.

“This okay, darlin’?”

You nod, bumping your nose against his in your eagerness to recapture his lips. You think he meant to go slow, but it doesn’t work out. Neither of you really know how, anyway, though you think maybe you’d like to learn.

Once he has you peeled out of your jeans and tee, he sits you on the edge of the bed and goes to make good on his promise.

“Wait,” you say, even though the last thing you want him to do is stop.

He freezes, worry written in the lines of his face.

“You can’t really be on your knees like that, Joel; they’ll be so swollen tomorrow.”

“S’worth it,” he grunts, trying to bat off your hands where they’ve wrapped their concern in his shirt.

“Nah, get up here,” you say, tugging until he eases himself back up.

“Fine, I got a better idea anyway,” he says, laying back on the pillows and pulling until you straddle him. “Get up here, sweetheart.”

You feel like you’ve come down with a fever, body gone hot but shivering from the cold. “Um, what?”

He shakes his head, mostly at himself. Of course you don’t know what he wants; he’s the only person in this godforsaken world that’s eaten your cunt.

“Come sit on my face, baby. Let me taste you. And no, y’ain’t gonna hurt me, just get up here.”

You shuffle forward until he loses his patience and yanks on your hips, jerking you forward so you have to catch yourself on the headboard. It works out anyway since he doesn’t give you any time to settle before he’s pulling you down. He licks right into your cunt, not wasting any time, before licking up to suck at your clit.

You cry out and apologize as your hips jerk forward.

“S’good, baby, take what you need,” he says, hot breath against your cunt before he gets back to work. He has you falling apart in no time, greedily lapping at everything you offer.

“Anyone touch you while I was gone?” he growls, nipping at your clit.

You cry out and grind down into his mouth, but he pulls back a little and slaps your ass.

“I asked you a question.”

“No, no one,” you gasp, trying again to reach his mouth.

He rewards you with his tongue, licking and sucking and biting until you give him another orgasm.

“Why’s that, pretty girl? Surely you could have fucked your way through this town by now.”

“Don’t—ahh—didn’t want anyone else.” His mouth has you confessing like your mama used to insist on when you were little. Admitting your most shameful secrets in the dark room. “Never did.”

He leans back to talk again, and you whine, a truly desperate, pathetic enough sound that he forgets what he had to say and gives you what you want.

He doesn’t quit until your thighs are shaking with the effort. He taps your leg to get you to slide off and immediately flips your positions so you’re caged under his body.

You bring your hands up to his biceps, gliding them over his broad shoulders, and cup his face. He leans down, pressing his lips to your forehead as he slides into your warm, welcoming cunt. He pulls his head back a little to watch as he presses inside, drinking up the way your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, muscles tightening against the stretch.

“Shh, baby, just relax. You can take it,” he kisses down your neck as he whispers. “I know it’s been a while, but that pretty little pussy can fuckin’ take it.”

You’re trembling under him, twitching and writhing as he kisses and bites across your collarbone and down to your breasts. He works himself deeper, sucking on your nipples until you cum again, muscles loosening just enough until his cock is buried to the base.

“Fuck,” he bites out, gritting his teeth and grinding into you. “Fuckin’ hell, I missed you.”

He catches the look in your eye and cuts you off. “And not just your cunt, either, smartass.”

You grin, and he kisses you, licking inside like he can wipe away your smugness.

You break away and kiss his neck up to bite his earlobe. “You fuckin’ like it.”

The look he gives you is overwhelmingly fond. It feels like something cracks inside your sternum.

“Yeah, I do,” he says.

You bury your face in his neck, biting down on the tendon on a particularly rough thrust. “You can’t just say shit like that, Joel. You’re gonna make me think you like me.”

“I don’t know how else I gotta say it, baby. I like you.”

You whimper, and he doesn’t press you to respond. Doesn’t need to. Instead, he brings his hand down to worry at your sore clit, brushing gently as you arch up, squirming both toward and away from the overstimulation.

“One more, gimmie one more,” he demands, pace increasing. Your body, as always, listens, and as your cunt grips him, he pulls out to spill on your pussy, coating your coarse curls in his spend.

He doesn’t leave you time to wonder if he’ll go back to cleaning you up now that there’s running water. He slides down, crouching, and licks your combined mess before climbing back up to kiss you and share the salty tang of your pleasures.

He doesn’t leave you time to wonder if he’ll kick you out, either. “Stay,” he murmurs against your lips. “Please.”

You nod, letting him melt you into the mattress with his soft touches.

He gives you his shirt to sleep in, his possessive post-orgasm brain demanding to mark you further. Unfortunately, he didn’t think it through, because that’s when you see it.

“What the fuck is that?” you ask, pointing at the still-pinkish scarring.

“Oh, that’s nothin’,” he says, arms dropping to lay across it in maybe the least casual way you’ve ever seen.

But you’ve got something sharp behind your eyes, something calculating. “You said you were fine.”

“I am fine. Quit your worryin’.”

“Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll hear it from Ellie tomorrow. Unless you want a chance to give me your version of the story.”

He groans and covers his face with both hands. “Fine. I fell and had a run-in with a bit of rebar. But I’m fine now.”

“You keep sayin’ that, making it sound like you definitely were not fine at one point.”

He thinks you’re going to be mad all over again, that you’ll say there was something you could have done, had you been there.

“I was fine until I wasn’t. We got it out, Ellie stitched me up, and we rested until I was better.”

“And the part you don’t want to tell me?”

“It got infected. Sepsis or some kind of bacteria. It wasn’t… it didn’t look good. Honestly, I don’t remember much of it.” He chances a look at you, and the tight feeling in his chest starts to creep in.

“Joel,” you whisper. You purse your lips, eyes scrunching, and take a shaky breath through your nose.

“Darlin’, please. I don’t—I can’t do this right now. Ya can’t cry like this right now.”

You close your eyes and take a few breaths. “Okay. But promise you’ll tell me everything another day?”

“I promise. C’mon, lay down.” He tugs at your wrist, and you let your body follow, curling up to his bare chest.

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“Nah, I’m tellin’ you. It’s fine now.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head and then helps himself to another at your lips. “Stop that,” he says when your eyes well up again.

“M’sorry. It’s just been a helluva fuckin’ day.”

“I know, baby. But you can rest now, okay? I got you.”

You don’t have to look far to find Ellie in the morning. She’s sitting at the kitchen table when you come down in just Joel’s shirt and your panties. Luckily, it’s long enough to cover everything, but you both freeze for a moment, staring at the other’s wide eyes.

“Come on,” she groans. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? One night. You couldn’t go one night?” She’s thrown a hand over her eyes.

“I’m not naked, you drama queen,” you say, setting the kettle on.

“It’s so gross; he’s so old,” she groans.

“I’m not that much younger,” you remind her.

“Yeah, but you’re like, cool and stuff.”

“Sorry, honey,” you say, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pressing a kiss to her hair. “I’m not that cool, either.”

She lets her head fall against the table. “Nope, can’t do it. I’m going to the mess for breakfast. Please, both of you be dressed, and like, six feet apart when I get back.”

You just laugh, digging through the cabinet for clean mugs as she grabs her bag and flees.

“What’s all the ruckus?” Joel asks, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist while you pour the tea.

“Oh, just traumatizing the teenager all over again.” You crane your neck to press a kiss to his cheek, but he catches you and steals it from your mouth instead.

“Be careful,” you murmur. “I could get used to this.”

“I fuckin’ hope so,” he says, “‘Cause I could get used to this. Pretty girl in my shirt makin’ me a drink.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, exactly like every day when I lived in your apartment.”

“Well,” he holds you a little tighter, kissing up your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder. “Maybe not exactly like that.”

epilogue

This is the end, y'all. I love you, and thank you so so much.

*title from "As It Was" by Harry Styles

[gayerthanevertbh]

angry individual.

pairings: older!natasha romanoff x fem!reader

n.r masterlist | navigation | n.r one-shots masterlist  

summary: natasha isn’t always a jealous person, until she sees her sister flirting with what’s hers.

anon request: can u write a one shot of like freinds to lovers kinda troupe with gp tasha but yelena also has a thing for y/n but nat is crazy about y/n and gets super jealous at one of starks party seeing yelena and y/n together so she storms off and reader goes to look for her and nat is so angry and slams y/n against the wall and is being so controlling saying reader shouldnt be near yelena then it leads to nat telling y/n how much she wants her and then its angry sex

warnings: angry sex (kind of?), g!p natasha, breeding kink, daddy kink, pet names, dirty talking, slapping, natasha just being mean, face paiting - 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count: 3.5k

author’s note: hopefully this is okay with you, anon! also, will be closing my requests again BUT i’ll be doing the requests that you guys have sent me. enjoy this one for now!

“Mmph,” Natasha moaned into your mouth as she cradled you in her lap, her hardening appendage visible through her sweatpants. She pulls away from your lips, gasping as she feels your warm, covered core on her lap. “I could feel you from here; are you that desperate for me?”

“If you wouldn’t stop making out with me I wouldn’t be this wet,” you smirked at her.

“My, my,” she whispers with a sultry voice as she chases for your lips, her hands slipping through your shirt as she scratches your back. “You are so naughty, aren’t you?”

Natasha continues to assault your bruised lips as she grips onto your waist, causing you to roll your hips to feel her hard cock through her sweatpants. What’s even funnier is that you were in the compound’s living room, out in the open where everyone could see you making out with your girlfriend. But neither of you cared, you were desperate for one another. It’s almost as if you were obsessed with her as much as she was obsessed with you, and honestly it turned you on more.

As she continues to lather her tongue onto the roof of your mouth, her sister Yelena comes onto the scene with a snicker coming out of her mouth. Instead, you quickly turned over your shoulder as you removed yourself from Natasha’s lap, sitting beside the older woman with a reddish look evident on your face.

"You know this is a public space, right?" the younger assassin inquired, munching on her banana in peace. Natasha rolled her eyes, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and closing her legs to control her erection.

“Yelena, no one’s here except you.”

“Steve is just in another room while Tony is probably somewhere,” said Yelena with a smirk on her face. “Did I disrupt your sexy times?”

“Please don’t ever say that,” the older assassin asked pleadingly. You chuckled lightly and kissed her right cheek. “We’ll just go back to our room then–”

“You must really love my sister, huh Y/n?”

“O-Of course,” you replied with a stutter, along with a small nod. “I love her very much.”

“If I came along sooner you might’ve fell for me,” she quirked back, her voice seemed to be a little flirtatious as you noticed. “Natasha back then was a sex addict, she could fuck anyone and leave them the next day. I wouldn’t do that to you, Y/n. I could never hurt you like that.”

“This is getting a little insensitive,” Natasha murmured, noticing that her voice was a little on edge. “I’m different now, Lena. Y/n is good for me.”

“Sure, sure. But I’m just saying, I could treat her better.” she responded back with a chuckle, causing your face to turn red even more.

Yelena was a beautiful woman who was your age, so the two of you clicked immediately. Natasha didn't expect you two to get along at the time, but knowing that her partner was getting close to her sister made her heart happy. Everything seemed platonic and friendly at first. Until Natasha became more needy and refused to leave your side, Yelena began to be a little flirtatious from time to time, which you didn't like. Of course, you were flattered, but you knew your heart belonged to Natasha.

“Don’t listen to her,” murmured by your girlfriend against your ear as she squeezes your thigh gently. “She’s just playing with you.”

"Are you going to drink tonight, pretty?" Yelena inquired, with a small smile on her face. You could hear Natasha grumbling as she breathed, which you never expected a response like that from her. She wasn’t typically a jealous person, causing your relationship with her to go smoothly, but you couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of her being envious over her sister.

“I guess so, why?”

“Nothing, I just want to see you there that’s all.”

"You're flirting with my girlfriend, Yelena." Natasha pointed out, her face expressionless as she stared at her sister.

Yelena rolled her eyes and walked away, mumbling, "Possessive bitch," as she passed you two by. You could hear Natasha sighing with relief.

"I'm sorry about that," Natasha apologized, bringing your hand to her lips and kissing it. “She’s just a loser.”

"I think it's cute," you said. Natasha raised an eyebrow as you lightly hit her upper arm, softly laughing. "I'm kidding, but I'm sure she's just being nice."

“That’s not nice,” she grumbled. “That’s called flirting.”

“Everyone flirts these days, including yourself.”

"But only with you," she sighs, kissing a sliver of skin on your neck. “Never with anyone.”

While the sun was setting, you and Natasha continued to watch a movie. While your girlfriend was enthralled by a particular scene, you were perplexed as to why Yelena was flirting with you. Did she like you as much as Natasha does? Why are you here in the first place? Maybe she was just being polite, you reasoned. But months passed, and Yelena's actions became increasingly out of control, to the point where Natasha became concerned. You sighed quietly to yourself as you rested your head against Natasha's shoulder.

You began to feel anxious as the floor began to fill up with more people you didn't know. You don't do well at parties, so Natasha was always by your side, especially when you had to drink alcohol - which you both know you can't ever recover from. Natasha was serving drinks to the other Avengers when you sat a few feet away on the barstool. You had a margarita in your hand because you didn't like vodka, and you sipped it occasionally while watching other people talk to other people. Tony was on his couch with a group of ladies, Steve was in the corner talking to Bruce, and you were alone with Peter, who was babbling about his web shooter.

“I asked Mr. Stark if he could help me to fix it, but he kept telling me he’s busy,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Do you think he hates me?”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “Maybe he’s just busy.”

“Maybe,” he replied quietly, sipping on his scotch. “By the way, Ms. Black Widow makes the best drinks ever. I love her for that.”

“Ms. Black Widow?” you giggled, causing him to nod vigorously.

“She is the Black Widow!” he exclaimed happily as the alcohol consumed through his body, which you could tell from afar. “You’re lucky, Y/n.”

“I am,” you agreed, looking at your girlfriend solemnly while she serves another drink for a man. “I am very lucky.”

“How about me?” you turned around to see Yelena interject from your conversation with Peter, smiling at you. “Do you think it’s luck that we both met?”

You sheepishly smile at her as you give her a hug. “Hey, Yelena. I thought you weren’t going to join.”

“Sorry about that, I was a little late.”

“From errands?”

She shook her head. “No, I was with Kate Bishop, helping her move furniture in her new apartment.”

“Ah,” you clicked your tongue, dragging the glass near your lips as you take another sip. “How is she doing? Why isn’t she here?”

“She’s too lazy,” she chuckled, placing her hand onto your knee as she squeezed it. You looked down briefly to see what she was doing, and you knew your girlfriend was right. She was, in fact, flirting with you. And you didn’t know how to respond to that. “Are you okay there, sweetheart?”

Natasha looks in your direction and notices her sister touching you, causing her veins boil with anger and jealousy. Jealous? Why would I feel jealous towards my own sister? Natasha thought crudely in her head. She’s just being nice, she’s just being…

"Y-Yeah," you laugh as she takes another step closer to you, her face a few inches away from yours. Natasha was even more envious because she was away from you and saw her sister flirt with the girl she loves. Somewhere deep within her, she felt possessive of you. You might not notice, but every time someone flirted with you, Natasha felt compelled to own you or something - which she knew wasn't healthy at first, but she couldn't help but feel that way. She cleans the last glass from the counter and walks away slowly, her gaze fixed on you.

“I wish we’ve met sooner,” Yelena said, sighing through her nose. “I would’ve been good for you.”

"I don't think Natasha would appreciate what you're saying right now, Yelena." you responded, feeling a little uneasy about the conversation and where it's going. Yelena only smiled, and you couldn't tell if it was a flirtatious or genuine smile.

"She's not here," the younger assassin said, looking to the left to right. “See? I could flirt with you all I want, and one day you'll fall in love with me. I know it.”

Natasha could hear what she was saying as her hand balled into a fist and her throat bobbed with pure rage. Jealousy begins to seep out of her, and she wonders if anyone else will notice. She takes a glass of vodka and dunks it down her throat, not even flinching at the bitter taste. She keeps an eye on your movements, wondering how you'll react to her.

“I should probably find her,” you stood up from the stool and gave Yelena a pat on her shoulder. “Hopefully you’ll find someone to flirt with here, Yels. Just not me.”

You were on your way to the compound's corridors when you suddenly felt your body turn as the woman behold you was staring at you angrily through her eyes. You gulped in fear and excitement.

“N-Nat!” you let out a trembling breath as you tried to kiss her cheek, but she flinched away from you. “W-What–”

"Shut the fuck up," she snarled, her voice venomous. She grips your wrist tightly in her rough hands as she leads you to her bedroom, closing and locking the door. Natasha slammed you against the wall, her nostrils flaring and her face inches away from yours, before you could ask what was going on. You closed your eyes but were forced to open them when Natasha's lips touched your neck and bit into your skin.

“I’m so angry at you right now,” she grumbles, slipping her hand through your skirt as you feel her cold fingers on your thigh, causing you to whine pitifully. “I said shut up! You did this to yourself, and you knew the consequences. Tell me, did you like the way she flirts with you?”

“N-No, of course not!”

“Then what did I see there?!” she exclaimed with rage, her hand wrapping around your throat as she squeezed it, not giving much care when you could feel yourself losing air from your lungs.

“Nat,” you begged, trying to push yourself away from her body. “P-Please–”

“It’s Daddy, little girl,” she whispered close to your face, spitting on your mouth. “Fucking lick it all up before I spank you so hard you might have to run to the police.”

You swallowed her spit, biting your lower lip as you were aroused by the way she was staring down at you with so much possession roaring out of her – it’s almost as if you find it intriguing, which it was. You were lying if you say this didn’t turn you on, because it was. And when you try to move away from her, her grasp on your waist gets tighter and tighter until you feel like you are pinned by the wall.

"Are you trying to get away from me?" you felt her hand grab the back of your head as she yanked it, exposing your neck for her pleasure. She sighs deeply as she leans down to smell you. "You have no idea how badly I want you, Y/n. How much you want me to move the world for you, to give everything up. You think Yelena is a better person for you? You're wrong, little girl. You're too stupid for her, and especially for me."

Before you could say anything, you felt her hand on your underwear, dragging it down from your legs to your ankles. She leans in for a hard kiss, moaning as her tongue slips inside your mouth and she feels your warm breath against hers. You two kiss each other harshly and slowly, battling for dominance with both of your tongues. But she was stronger, and you could feel her tongue in the back of your throat.

"D-Daddy," you yanked away, both your lips smacking, moaning as you felt her fingers rubbing your clit hard. “P-Please, I’m sorry!”

"Shh, give your body to Daddy," Natasha says as she pushes your silk tank top against her hand through your bra, gasping at your hardened nipple. “You want this, don’t you? Do you want Daddy to hurt you this badly?”

"Ah!" you felt her finger thrust inside your cunt, crying with an insane amount of pleasure seeping through your body, but Natasha didn't want you to have all of that pleasure - she wanted her own pleasure for herself. So, as you continue to moan in ecstasy, she slaps the inside of your thigh loudly.

"You don't get pleasure," she growls onto your lips, kissing your lips hard once more. She slaps your thigh again before unzipping her pants, her cock springing out as the head hits your covered abdomen. "Only I am capable of that."

"I'm sorry-"”

"Shut up," the woman mumbled, turning you around with your back to the wall. You tried to look over your shoulder, but you felt her hand pushing your face against the cold concrete. You began to cry, unsure whether out of pain or pleasure, but you didn't care. "I'm going to beat this pussy up until it's the shape of my cock if you make too much noise, got it?"

You nodded ruthlessly, and she grinned evilly back.

“Good, now open up for me, slut.”

Natasha spreads your pussy lips open as she grabs the tip of her cock, bringing it to your entrance and teasing it, moaning to herself. She has been wanting this all night, her head filled with naughty thoughts of you being submissive to her. She could feel herself growing another inch, since you were this wet for her. God, she could just break you in without any restriction.

You felt the older woman slipping inside of you within a minute, causing you to scream with delight. When she heard this, you felt a pair of hands cover your mouth tightly as she pushed you against the wall until your ass was pressed against her pubic bone. You could hear her whispering, "Fucking hell," as she felt your warmth around her cock, your walls gripping her so tightly that she could barely move.

“You like my cock inside of you, baby?” she whispers, her breath trembling as she pulls back and pushes back in with a harsh thrust, your body hitting the wall once again. “You like Daddy fucking you like this? Huh? You’re such a whore, flirting with my sister as if I don’t mean anything to you.”

This was completely false. It's all jealousy talk. You weren't flirting with Yelena; you were simply being nice to her. Natasha, on the other hand, saw it differently. You tried to speak, but her dick kept thrusting back into you, until your inner walls were bruised by the shape of her penis.

She expertly rolls her hips against you while roaming her other hand across your stomach, reaching for your other breast and squeezing it so hard that you almost think it's going to bruise. "You feel every inch of my cock inside of you?" mumbles the older woman, kissing your neck with such desperation within her. “Huh? You feel me, little girl? Do you feel Daddy filling you up this much? Oh, fuck… I want you so much.”

I want you more, Daddy.

Natasha moves at a brisk pace, her cock thrusting inside of you while she uses you as a fleshlight, her cock barely slipping out of you. She throws her head back as she feels her tip graze your cervix with each pounding. She licks your neck again, desperately rutting into you, unable to let go. You could hear her grunting with each hard thrust into you, and you realized you were having an orgasm sooner than you thought.

"Y-you say you're sorry, but you're not," she snaps at you, biting your skin so hard you could feel blood drawing from your body. “Defiling me, aren’t you? Kotenok, you look so good... So fucking good. So fucking tight.”

She didn't slow down. Instead, she was ruthlessly thrusting inside of you, as if she were a wild animal. Your wet skins were slapping each other, filling the entire room as the thick air swirled around your bodies. She clutched you tightly, as if she wouldn't let you go in a second. You could barely speak because every inch of her dick was thrusting wildly into you. You were moaning into her hand, wishing she'd slow down a little, but she didn't care because she needed this more than you.

"I'm so close," she grumbled, ripping your tank top with her strong hands while kneeling both of your covered breasts into her hands and rolling her hips into you. "You're going to make me fucking cum, Ugh... "Oh my god, my little doll, you're gripping me so tightly..."

You struggled to breathe every time she jackhammered into your pussy, almost passing out from the insane amount of pleasure both of you were experiencing. Natasha gives your neck kitten licks, but every now and then she ends up kissing your skin with her open mouth, smirking to herself when there's a dark purplish spot on your neck - knowing she did it. She pulls away from you and turns you around, pushing you up against the wall and easily slipping inside of you.

"Please kiss me," you begged. "Kiss me, please. I'm sorry, Daddy. It will never happen again."

"I know," she said, grabbing your neck and kissing you hard, her tongue slipping inside your mouth as she mumbled, "Now shut up and give yourself to Daddy."

"Fuckin' slut," she growls as she thrusts up into your cunt, her ass clenching with each hit. She ruts into you, faster than you could’ve ever imagined, until you hear her say: “Gonna explode into you, get you pregnant with my babies, and let Yelena know that you’re fucking mine!”

"Daddy-No!" you screamed, attempting to push her hips away, but she slaps you across the face, bringing you closer to your orgasm. "D-Do not do it, please-"”

“Fine, then I’ll just cum over your face then.”

She pulls out a little, the head of her penis inside of you, as she jerks herself off. “You’re mine,” she whispers. “You’re all mine, no one could have you except me. Remember that, or else I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all.”

She pushes you down onto the floor and locks your head between her thighs, throwing her head back as she slaps the head of her cock onto your forehead, rubbing her length against your face, before you can even respond. She humps your face while holding your neck, moaning each time your mouth was pressed against her tight balls, begging for its release.

“Gonna cum,” she mumbled with a high pitched moan, grabbing her long thick penis as she jerks herself faster, you both could hear the fapping sound coming from her appendage. “Daddy’s gonna cum all over your face, you’re gonna be so ruined for me…”

A minute later, she brings your face close to hers as she pours thick white milk all over your face. "Oh, my baby! Fuck..." She leans against the wall as her penis continues to spurt cum, mostly coating your lips and face. She presses her hand against the base of her cock, then pulls her hand back up to extract more sperm from the tip. "Open your mouth," she commands, and you gladly comply. Two more strings of cum landed on your tongue as she placed her cockhead on it and slipped her length into your mouth.

“Suck it,” she commanded with a low voice, still jerking herself off but slowly this time. “Suck all of my fucking cum, you bitch.”

You suck hard on her tip, your cheeks hollowing out. As you move your head up and down, she licks her lips, continuing to swallow all of her excess. She then slowly pulls your head back and watches her penis flaccid. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she raises your hand and allows you to touch her cock, chuckling when you couldn't.

“Gone dumb for me?”

You nodded and smiled quickly. While your hand was still touching her dick, she lifts you up and kisses your lips. You two kiss in her room as the music from the party area begins to blast. Even though it was muffled, you two were not disturbed.

"You're mine," she says softly, licking your cheek. “Okay? You're completely mine, doll. Yelena could never have you.”

"And she won't," you said, your voice becoming dry. She only laughs softly and pulls you to the edge of the bed, where you automatically sit on her lap. “I’m all yours, Tasha Bear.”

“Good.”

how do we like this one lol

[snow--berry]

Roommate AU #1

Characters: John Price, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, John “Soap” MacTavish, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Gary “Roach” Sanderson

Context: For convenience reasons and future things I have planned, you‘ll be sharing this really big house with all of the characters I‘ll write these headcanons for. Why are you sharing this house? Just because I can. I’ll find a better reason later. This also includes Alejandro, Rudy, König and Horangi. This is kinda like a peaceful AU, where they don‘t work military jobs. This can be read as platonic or romantic, I don‘t really care.

John Price

•He‘s the peace keeper in the household along with Rudy.

•He can‘t go without tea in the morning and it‘s the first thing he does. If you drink tea and are awake just as early, he‘ll also make you a cup.

•Price is only half-awake in the morning, so he‘ll accidentally say yes to the stupidest things, because he isn‘t really paying attention.

•Maybe he could work as a police officer? I'm not sure if I can see him do anything else. Suggestions are greatly appreciated lol.

•I feel like he’d play chess. Or just like. Strategy games altogether. With anyone who’s willing to join :D

•But mainly with Ghost and Alejandro. And König if he’d have the balls to approach Price.

•If you decide to play with him and know the rules of whatever game you’re playing already, it’s no mercy mode.

•If you don’t, or are still learning, he’ll go easy on you.

•He usually can be found in the living room, kitchen or backyard.

•He isn’t home for most of the day, due to his job, but he enjoys having dinner with whoever is available. He obviously favours Gaz and we all know it. That his adopted son after all—

•Also, because he’s an old man, he goes on long walks for no reason

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

•He’s somewhere in between troublemaker and just kinda chills

•I know this sounds very contradictory, but hear me out.

•He doesn’t get in trouble often, but when he does he’s either having a mischievous day, he’s purposely messing with Price, his dad or the most common option; he’s being dragged along by Soap and Roach.

•Even if he’s being dragged along, he just films whatever bs Roach and Soap are up to though. They need a camera man!

•In the morning he also makes himself a cup of tea, but he’s awake later than Price is. Usually when breakfast is ready already

•He’s a little groggy and sometimes grumpy in the morning. (Soap advice to you when you join the household is to not talk to Gaz before he’s had his breakfast and tea!)

•I can see Gaz spending hours in the bathroom in the morning and he ends up pissing everyone off, especially because Horangi, Alejandro and Soap also take ages in the bathroom

•I’m not sure what he’d work as, but maybe a professional gymnast? Is that what they’re called? Help—

•Or maybe a daycare attendant?

•I think he’d like cooking, so he usually makes dinner and lunch for everyone

•He has two lists; one with everyone’s allergies, likes and dislikes, and one with the meals he makes for dinner for the week

•Sometimes he’s away for a week or two at a time because of tournaments he attends

•He doesn’t mind sharing a bed if you have nightmares, or just enjoy close physical contact altogether. Especially during movies!

John “Soap” MacTavish

•Chaos Gremlin #2

•Usually is the one to drag Gaz along

•His shenanigans usually involve but aren’t limited to: drawing on sleeping people, mixing up salt and sugar, turning off the light in a room where people are, climbing on random shit, hiding people’s stuff & so much more These are all Roach’s idea btw, but you didn’t hear it from me—

•Will happily involve you in his shenanigans as well, you usually don’t have a say lol

•Drinks coffee in the morning, hot chocolate if he’s feeling silly

•He’s upset when people come after him for taking ages in the bathroom, he needs to style his mohawk properly!

•Constantly misplaces his ADHD meds, they mysteriously reappear on his pillow sooner or later

•He has this joking conspiracy, that there is a shadow man cryptid thing or a guardian angel giving him back his meds because no one in the house admits to placing his meds onto his pillow

•Works as either a football coach, PE teacher or freelance artist

•Still has a sketch book full of sketches and full-blown artworks of all kinds of stuff

•Has sketched/drawn every household member at least twice

•Also doesn’t mind physical affection, especially not since he’s pretty touchy himself

•Also definitely mixes different shampoos together lol

Simon “Ghost” Riley

•Is always, and I repeat always the first one awake

•Also drinks tea first thing he wakes up

•Sometimes at ridiculous hours, like, no one needs tea at 2:53 AM! He disagrees

•Knows of Soap’s and Roach’s shenanigans, only watches them… usually, there are times where he does stop them

•You’ll rarely see him around when you first join the household, he doesn’t quite trust you yet He also doesn’t like change. ‘Tism who? He don’t know her—

•The more he gets used to you, the more you’ll see him around

•He likes to tell you his jokes if you happen to be awake around the same time as him, it’s a bonding experience!

•He works as a dog sitter or a bodyguard. There is no in between. I do heavily lean towards dog sitter though

•Don’t touch him

•Unless he explicitly tells you it’s okay, that is

•Accidentally gives the worst side-eyes in history

•He is the shadow man cryptid/guardian ‘angel’

Gary “Roach” Sanderson

•Chaos Gremlin #1

•No one out-gremlins him

•Don’t even try, you will fail

•I was thinking Party Planner, but my friend came up with Entomologist

•So, he’ll do party planning as a hobby because I can’t let go of that headcanon.

•90% of the parties he plans are insect themed birthday parties

•He also has a few pet bugs and Rudy hates all of them

•Also, all of the shenanigan ideas are his

•Usually can be found in trees in the backyard or in a random bush somewhere in the neighborhood

•If you don’t speak BSL or ASL, he’ll start carrying a notebook and a pen around for you

•Randomly stands in a corner of your room at night and T-poses because he thinks it’s hilarious

•He’s like an outdoor cat, he sometimes isn’t home for a few days but he always comes back home at some point

•Roach is also sometimes outside all day long and only comes back for dinner

[deathblacksmoke]

Cyanide | Part 2

Pairing: Nick Ruffilo x Musician!OFC (Shaun)

Summary: 2000s-era local band AU. Nicky meets Shaun — older, cooler, a better bassist, a little mean. She’s nonchalant. He couldn’t be more enamored.

CW: smoking (content warnings updated by chapter)

Word Count: 2.2K

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🖤

title and inspo from “cyanide” by creeper.

His head is fuzzy, ears full of static as he sits with Noah at the bar. His mind hasn’t cleared of the thought of her since 2 weekends ago. He hasn’t known a moment of peace since she stepped into her car and sped off, since he went to his mama’s in search of a phone book only to be hit with the kindly worded reality that searching by first name in the phone book is unlikely to pay off, since he went to their last show with high hopes only for her to be nowhere to be found.

If not for his vivid memories of that night — the sound of her laugh, the edges of her smile, the way her perfume smelled mixing delicately with her cigarette smoke — he would think he dreamt her. He’s humiliated himself in pursuit of her and still he comes up empty.

“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Noah interrupts, rousing Nick abruptly from his thoughts.

He’s sure Noah’s gotten used to his semi-absence the past couple weeks — around, but not all there. He’s sure he’s grown a little sick of it, as well, Nick chiming in every now and again to bring her up. He’s sure it’s a little grating on them all, but he finds he can’t really help it. 

“Do you think I’ll ever see her again?” Nick asks before Noah’s eyes light up with amusement, a vaguely annoyed fondness. He works to push away the shame and embarrassment it makes him feel. “I’m serious, Noah.”

Noah rolls his eyes, but his expression remains soft, “Probably.”

Nick huffs, finding Noah’s response wildly unhelpful. He wishes he never brought it up, that he could push the thoughts of her away and go back to normal. Whatever normal was.

“Why don’t you just get her number from one of her bandmates?” Noah offers like it’s the easiest solution in the world, overlooking the fact that if he knew how to get in touch with any of them, he would have by now. He doesn’t know a single one of their names. “I can ask Daisy for you if you want.”

Nick feels as his expression falls, at the first ever mention of this Daisy. Nick isn’t sure who she is, but if she can help find Shaun, he doesn’t know why Noah didn’t mention her before.

“And Daisy is who?” Nick asks, his tone edged with quite a lot more annoyance than he intends. He doesn’t correct himself, though.

“The drummer for Morning Dew,” Noah responds. Nick feels lost, and he’s sure it shows on his face when Noah continues, voice laced with frustration. “Shaun’s band. Nick, what the hell is wrong with you?”

He wants to ask Noah why the offer didn’t come sooner. He wants to criticize him for keeping it a secret, but instead goes for something a little more subtle. He decides to be reasonable for the first time in weeks.

“I’m sorry,” he concedes. He figures it’s the least Noah deserves, after everything. “Can you help me?”

“If it’ll help get you back to normal, I’ll do anything,” Noah responds. Nick bows his head to take a sip of his beer, attempting to camouflage his humiliation as his cheeks heat.

She normally goes to Fallout on Thursday nights.

He stares at Noah’s text, up to the sign on the building, and back down to his phone. Wishful thinking has him hoping it’s the wrong place, but the chances of there being more than one club in Richmond named Fallout feels slim.

Noah had given him a very brief rundown, passed along from Daisy — it’s a goth club, so dress accordingly. He went for what he thought would be safe: black jeans, black t-shirt, black boots. He figured he would blend in, at the very least. As he looks at the groups filing through the entrance, he becomes increasingly sure he’ll stick out more than he ever has.

If he’s already so uneasy standing across the street from the place, he can’t imagine how he’ll feel once he steps inside the doors. His feet stay planted on the sidewalk. He can’t bring himself to cross the street.

He’s moments away from walking back to his car and calling it an early night when he remembers: she’s in there. The only thing separating him from seeing her again is a little discomfort, a few overpriced beers, and probably a headache.

Not to mention, the guys will never let him live it down if he comes home dejected and without even trying first. He remembers when he asked Noah for his help, when he felt positive he’d do anything to see her again. He still is, and he’s going to.

He feels wobbly on his feet as he makes his way to the door, receives a sideways glance from the bouncer checking his ID, and steps into the club. He’s left to immediately grapple with the glaring reality that this is not his scene.

It’s at once too dark and too bright, and loud in a way he isn’t used to. The unease on his feet has only worsened since he stepped inside. As he tries his hardest to find a single other person here alone and fails, he curses himself for not trying harder to convince Noah to come along. His scoff of absolutely not felt both firm and final, and even if he had been in the mood to argue, it’s hard to compete with the excuse of a 5 am shift.

All alone and out of his element here, he feels like he’ll be sick.

The thought of any alcohol in his system sounds like a worse and worse idea as the nausea starts to set in. The unfriendly bartender snarls when Nick asks for water, likely assuming it’ll cost him a tip. Nick slips him a $5 to get into his good graces, but it doesn’t seem to help any as he turns on his heels and makes his way to the other end of the bar.

Sipping what he was given and assuming he won’t be getting another, he sets his sights on finding her. He knows that he would recognize her anywhere, even as the strobes warp his vision and the thud of the bass rattles his bones. 

He briefly considers making his way into the crowd, getting a better look around, but he feels so unwell already. He doesn’t think it would be the best idea. He feels so foolish for coming here, for thinking it would be as easy as walking through the doors and she’d appear.

He hadn’t considered how creepy it would make him feel, like a stalker, underdressed in the goth club. He’s sure that if she’s here, she’s dressed appropriately, looks phenomenal — when she sees him, if she does, she’ll see right through him.

He can’t have this be the place they meet again.

He’s about ready to go, digging in his wallet for some extra money to throw in the tip jar when there’s a voice from behind him that sounds awfully familiar.

“Hey, Ant,” she shouts, confident over the music, getting the bartender’s attention immediately. “Water, please?”

The bartender — Ant, he assumes — doesn’t react to her with quite the same disdain he’d received. He wants to slip out without her seeing him, hide in his shame, but she’s so close behind him he’s sure he could feel her radiating body heat. It’s just his luck.

When she gets her drink, she doesn’t disappear back into the crowd as he’d hoped. She shuffles just a little bit closer, and God he hopes it’s not on purpose, but from the corner of his eye he sees her fingers drumming on the bar.

“You found me,” she says, and her flat tone does nothing to betray how she might feel about that. He wants to shrink into himself, or disappear completely.

He feels a buzzing beneath the surface of his skin that he can’t attribute to excitement. He feels sick. He has to leave, no matter the risk of it being the final nail in his humiliation coffin.

“I’m sorry, I was just leaving,” he says as he gets up from the bar stool and heads hastily for the door. He neglects to leave anything else in the tip jar, but it won’t matter, anyway. He won’t be coming back here if he can help it.

Before he can get too far, a delicate hand wraps around his arm to stop him. He burns from the inside out.

“You went through all this trouble to find me and you leave the moment you finally do?” 

He feels himself physically shrink. He wonders just how much she knows about the trouble he went through, how hard he tried to find her, how much it’s been eating away at him for weeks. He turns to her, meeting her eyes for the first time tonight. She looks perfect. “Daisy told me you might be showing up tonight. The least you can do is stay a while.”

“I feel kind of sick,” he confesses. He feels unsteady on his feet again, much more so than he has all night, and he’s worried he might pass out if he doesn’t get outside. It’s all a little humiliating. “I need to go outside for a little bit.”

She smiles at him then, and it’s the same dazzling smile he remembers from weeks ago. It tells him that she pities him, but there’s an endeared twinkle in her eye that makes his heart race. He’s pleased to just be perceived by her, and he doesn’t have it in him to find that embarrassing.

“I need a smoke break anyway,” she offers. “Can I come with you?”

He feels his hands shake as he nods, the same as when they first met. The overwhelm takes over. He didn’t actually consider what he would do when he finally saw her again, and he feels out of his element. Unprepared. He turns on his heels and heads for the doors. He can’t bear to turn around and see her trailing behind him.

He lights his own cigarette, not knowing if in his current state he can handle his lips touching where hers have. He suddenly feels like a teenager again, caught like a fish out of water and flailing. He wants to apologize, to say anything, but he can’t seem to find the words he needs.

“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” she asks, breaking the dreadful silence. She blows her smoke in the opposite direction from him like she’s used to being around nonsmokers. To return the kindness, although unnecessary, he finds himself mirroring her action.

“I didn’t realize how out of place I’d feel,” he admits. She nods like she understands and it’s the first time he hasn’t felt uneasy, like maybe she wants him here. He averts his gaze anyway. “I’m sorry if it’s weird that I came.”

“It’s not like I gave you much of a choice,” she concedes, knocking her knee against his. He feels so small as his heart speeds up, as he has to actively keep himself from reaching for her hand. The feeling that she gives him is so unlike anything else he’s ever known — to be under her microscope feels both like a blessing and an absolute curse. He doesn’t know what he’s meant to do about it. “I’m impressed you came. When Daisy told me, I was sure you wouldn’t show up.”

“I really wanted to see you again,” he says, deciding to go for the truth. It’s worked so far, no matter how mortifying it may feel. “I figured this could be my only chance.”

When he dares to look back up at her, he finds her already looking at him with that gorgeous smile he first fell in love with. She chuckles lightly and he can feel it everywhere. 

“Here, give me your phone.”

As he hands it over and  she flips it open, it really starts to sink in that he never really imagined getting this far. She felt like a dream to him, unattainable, even as he was doing everything in his power to find her. When she gives it back to him and their fingers graze each other, he’s set alight. He slides it back into his pocket — once he looks, it’s real, and it can be taken away once it’s real.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be home when you call,” she says as she stands up from the curb, stubs out her cigarette, taps the toe of his boot with hers. He looks up at her, knows he should rise from the curb and follow her back in. “But I’ll be waiting.”

She disappears back into the doors without so much as a goodbye, and he remains frozen in place. Her glance back at him burns itself into his vision.

Dizzy as he finally rises from the curb and heads in the direction of his car. Finally in possession of what he’s wanted this entire time, he feels more lost now than ever.

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[traceyc-uk]

*comes up with crazy idea and drops in your inbox*

*honestly have no idea how I came up with this. I just love owls and Hooty and thought your mc and mine would get along. I wanted to have a first meeting before the birthday fic. And I was like in a melancholy mood so sorry. Also context her cat died but this would have become much longer. ILY bye.*

—————-—————————————————————-

It was a crisp late winter midnight, the moon shining ethereal in the frigid sky, its pale light bouncing off the hair of a girl creeping through the trees.

Johanna was once again hunting poachers in the Forbidden Forest, her favorite past time when she wanted to blow some steam. She wasn't one to let herself feel them, but distracted herself instead.

She had just finished off one camp when she heard a “who, who, whooo..." coming from a tree nearby and an answer from a little ways away. At first she thought it might have been her barn owl Silo, but then remembered that barn owls screeched and didn't hoot. Curious she moved to investigate, ears straining to listen carefully.

Winter was the breeding season of owls and she just hoped that she would be able to witness the beauty of an owl courtship. She had always wanted to see one and it would be such a special honor if she could now. A sign, of peace, that everything would be okay. That life moved on. A little smile curved her lips when she heard it again.

A hollow tree stood in the middle of a clearing, stark white like bone in the moonlight, an owl on the top right branch. "Hello beautiful," she whispered. It blinked its huge eyes at her. She looked around for its mate, but saw nothing. She furrowed her brow, confused. "Where is your-" A loud hoot from behind her made her jump.

"Hoot! Hoot hoot hoot!" She turned just to see a unicorn charging at her, diving away just in time to avoid it. A dark haired boy about her height was chasing it around the clearing, hooting to the owl insistently through gasps and pants. "I'm just trying to help you!" He shouted at the unicorn. "Why make this hard?!" The owl finally flew off the branch and dropped the sack he had been sitting on, into the boys arms. The boy sighed gratefully. "Thank you Hooty! But couldn't you have done that sooner?"

Johanna watched him chase around the unicorn a little longer, trying not to laugh before she finally stepped out of the shadows and into their sight as he started to pull out his wand. She stepped in front of the unicorn and held up a hand, unmoving as it ran full speed at her. “Shhh…” she murmured softly. The horse reared and the boy screamed at her to move but she did not, even as the hooves seemed to crash down on her. Instead they landed directly in front of her, and the unicorn calmed as she murmured soft words and stroked its nose.

When the unicorn was finally in his back he turned to her in awe, his dark eyes wide and shining. “How did you do that? That was amazing!” Johanna couldn’t help but blush. “Lots of practice I guess,” she said with a shrug. “I learned after a while that using spells on them make them fear you more.” He smiled sheepishly, “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. I should know better after all the times I’ve accidentally jinxed my animals.”

She snorted and flicked his tie. “Typical Slytherin, charging into things without thinking. Ambition without wit is your boon. But you’re quick to learn, I’ll give you that. As for jinxing animals you’re not alone.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, and laughed. “Yeah we are like that sometimes.” Then he straightened up, running a hand through his messy hair. “Say, what are you doing here anyway?” “I thought your owl had a mate. So I was investigating so see them together.” Johanna sighed, clearly disappointed. She tried to conceal the tears welling in her eyes. But they weren’t missed.

The boy reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “What else is wrong?” She pulled away, turning her face so he wouldn’t see the traitorous tear that had escaped her brown eyes. “It’s nothing, I’m fine. Just killed some poachers.” His eyes narrowed as he gazed at Johanna, his hand still on her shoulder. “You’re not fine,” he said gently. “I can see it in your face. You’re hurting and it’s not just about the poachers.”

Johanna’s face remained turned away, but her shoulders tensed, and her voice was barely above a whisper. “You don’t know anything about me.”

The boy's grip on her shoulder tightened, and he took a step closer. "I may not know you or your secrets, but I know what it's like to be alone in the dark. I know what it's like to feel like you're drowning in your own emotions."

Johanna's eyes flashed towards him, a spark of anger igniting within them. "You don't know anything about being alone," she spat, her voice low and venomous. “You’re a Slytherin, born with high status and pureblood. You’ve never had one fight for anything in your life.”

The boy's face remained calm, his eyes never leaving hers although they now contained some well concealed anger. "You're wrong. I was born a shame, a squib," he admitted. "And I’ve had my fair share of pain and loss. My professor who was like a father died last year, my best friend used me. I have to navigate a powerful and dangerous magic on my own. I know what it's like to feel like you're adrift, with no anchor to hold onto."

Johanna's anger faltered, her gaze softening as she took in the boy's words. Was he like her?

For a moment, they stood there, the only sound the soft rustling of the trees in the wind.

"I'm sorry," Johanna whispered, her voice barely audible. He gave a weak smile, “It’s okay. I’ve come to live with it.” He gently squeezed her shoulder before pulling away. “I’m sorry for your pain too.”

Johanna sighed and put her hand over his. “Thank you. It…it means a lot.”

The tension dissipated, replaced by mutual understanding, the beginning of a possible friendship hanging over like them like a blanket of warmth.

Johanna finally turned to face him. “What’s your name?” She asked, voice still soft.

“Call me the New Fifth Year.” the boy replied, a smile growing wide on his face. “And you are?”

Johanna’s lips curved into a small but genuine smile, the first in a long while. “I’m Johanna, Johanna Newman,” she said her voice a little stronger. “Friends?” She held out a hand to him. He looked at it before taking it into his own. “Friends, as long as you teach me to tame animals like that.”

She shook it. “Deal, as long as you teach me how to speak owl so fluently. I only know a little.”

“Deal!”

And the pair headed off together into the night.

You are so precious writing this😭 sorry that their first meeting comes after the loss of her cat but I love that he’s patient and empathetic to her, poor Johanna. Thank you sm for thinking of him and his owl, he’ll gladly teach her how to speak even if his own particular owl only dishes out sass 😑

Thank you to @4ever2000lover this how his owl look when giving forced affection 😂

[tacticaldiary]

The Absence Of Light

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Genre: Angst

He’d taken the one steady thing in his life for granted, chosen a momentary chase of the tongue instead of her. Warning after warning, the consequences of his ignorance hit hard. 

Masterlist

“You walk out that door and I won’t be here when you get back.”

Leon’s hand freezes on the doorknob, the handle cold against his burning skin. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m serious, Leon.” The tense finality of her voice is enough to make him peer over his shoulder weary eyes taking her in. 

Arms crossed, shoulders tense. She looks at him like she might snap at any second. 

“You’ve been home five minutes, I haven’t seen you in three months, and the most you’ve done is glance my way with a hello and you’re leaving again? To get drunk out of your mind instead of letting me help you?”

“You can’t help me.” A sharp, tired exhale. 

“Because you never let me!” She exclaims, “This-“ She gestures to him, to the slump of his back and the twitching of his fingers aching for a glass in his hand. “-is killing you. You’re killing yourself, Leon.”

He turns around, goes to say something but stops at the look in her eyes.

Normally she’s worried. That softness of her eyes as she pulls the glass out of her hand, helps him with the gruelling hangovers that are the remnants of his attempts to forget his job.

The only thing in her eyes right now is anger. 

At him. Maybe even a little at herself for not acting sooner. 

“I’m done waiting up for you, wondering where the hell you are, which bar you’re getting trashed at. Wondering if it’ll be Chris or some other co-worker dragging your ass back home, leaving me to pick up the pieces of something you refuse to fix yourself.”

“You think I want this?” His eyes narrow. 

“I think you know it’s easier to succumb than to fight to try and be better.” She retorts harshly, and Leon misses the way her voice used to be gentle and kind. Loving...how long had it been since he’d told her he loved her?

The ring on her finger was proof that he did, but material objects and words conveyed different meanings altogether. 

He did. God, Leon loved her so much it hurt sometimes. On a mission, getting back home to her was one of the things that drove him to make no mistakes, to live, to survive. 

Why did he abandon that iron will the second he was off the clock, then? 

The idea of sorting it out gives him a headache, one not self-inflicted. Raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, he takes a deep breath. 

This...they could do this some other time. Right now he just needed...he needed to get away. He needed a moment of peace from his buzzing mind, and if replacing that buzzing with the lull of alcohol for a few hours, just a few hours, would get him through that set time, then he’d take it. 

Just this last time. 

He remembers the day they met. Doubts he’d ever forget someone as sweet as her. It had been at a coffee shop where she asked for his name to write on his cup of black coffee. The café had someone playing the guitar near the counter, a lovely little tune that had people smiling and taking pictures. Leon had given her his name, but she’d only responded with a confused smile.

Over the din, she’s mistook ‘Leon’ for ‘Lion’, but had indulged in his seemingly odd request. It had taken a full minute of her calling out his butchered name before he realised it was his order. A quick correction had led to a bout of embarrassed apologies. 

It was endearing. Magnetising. Leon had responded cheekily, asking her to make up for it by letting him take her out. With a flush as red as the roses he’d presented her with the next night, it had been smooth sailing from there. Clicking into his life perfectly, Leon sometimes questioned how he lucked out with someone so utterly perfect in every goddamn way. It was ironic to him. Someone unblemished for his own scarred self. 

She became his rock, his anchor. The one person he could count on to be there when he came back home, the one person who was a reprieve from the haunting nights of his job. 

The door clicking open brings about a draft of chill. 

Or maybe that’s the grim nature of her sudden silence. 

“Don’t wait up,” Leon mumbles, making his choice. She wasn’t serious, he knows she wasn’t. She’d brought this up before, told him not to compromise this lovely little thing between them, not the ruin four years of hard work and trust over something that so many people were willing to help him with. 

She’s always home when he comes back, granted in an understandably sour mood. He feels a bucket of guilt wash over him every damn time that happens, makes it up to her before his next fall and the vicious cycle continues all over again. 

Leon squeezes his eyes shut as his hands dig out his car keys, pulling open the door. 

                               · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·  

None of the lights are on. 

That’s the first indication that makes his heart twist. 

Something about the encounter, before he left, had left him rattled, enough that he couldn’t stomach the will to drink more than two or three glasses of...whatever he ordered, he can’t remember, not with the way his heart is pounding in his ears as he shoves the keys into the front door. 

Leon’s being paranoid. It was well past 11, she was probably asleep in their room. Still, the hard edge to her voice...

“I won’t be here when you get back.”

It had unsettled him. His instincts were normally right, it’s the reason why he’s survived so long in impossible situations, and Leon had only made it about two hours into his night at the closest bar before he had given in and drove himself home. 

Something wasn’t right.

A lump in his throat forms when he steps into the darkness of their home, the door clicking shut behind him a hollow sound. 

He calls out her name quietly, stepping into the kitchen, and flicking on the light. 

The countertops are just as clean as they were when he left. He’s about to head to their bedroom when his eyes linger on one of the shelves filled with mugs. 

It was a bit of a tradition for each of them to bring home the most ridiculous mugs they could find whenever they travelled. Leon always managed to snag something dumb from somewhere he travelled, and she contributed the same, though their reasons for exploring the world are vastly different.

His blood runs cold as he stares. 

Half of the mugs are gone. 

Frozen to the spot for a second, the blood in his ear rises to a crescendo, threatening to choke him because this wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be.

He tears his way into their room, shoving open their door and looking around frantically for her. Surely she’d just been doing some rearranging?

Nothing. 

Not a trace of her left. 

Her phone, her chargers, the little trinkets on her side of the nightstand. When Leon panics, pulls open the drawer and finds it barren. Empty. 

A sweep of the whole house, calling out her name all the while makes the grim reality settle into his bones, fear making his hands clammy. He yells for her, but all he’s met with is the echo of his own voice talking back to him. Each empty room makes the fissure in his heart deeper, the regret pooling in his entire body stronger. 

Fuck, he’s so fucking stupid. So stupid for someone who’s supposed to be smart, how could he have ignored her like that and-

It’s the living room that brings the final blow. 

There, on the coffee table, a single sheet of paper folded in half. 

Leon almost doesn’t pick it up, refuses to click together the pieces of a puzzle already laid out and made for him. 

With shaky hands, he unfolds the note. Something small clatters to the floor. 

Her engagement ring. 

Leon can’t breathe. 

‘I love you, Leon. But not enough to watch you waste away. Don’t try and find me, I’m done. Goodbye.’

Leon Kennedy has gotten shot, cut, beat, drowned, and nearly frozen, but nothing compares to the aching feeling that twists and tears at his chest. Feeling himself tremble, clutching onto the ring, he shakily sits back on the couch. 

She was gone. 

Not a trace of her left. Almost as if she’d never existed. 

She must have really wanted to leave if she packed everything so quickly. 

Tilting his head back, he wills himself to calm down, to drag his head back to the present, and think rationally. She couldn’t have gone far, right? It hadn’t been that long, and he could still catch her if he knew where she was going and-

‘Don’t try and find me.’

The lump in his throat thickens at the same time tears sting his eyes. With movements measured to an almost automated extent, he sets both the paper and the ring down on the coffee table. His eyes narrow, as through the tears he spots a half-empty beer bottle on the table. 

He grabs the bottle, turning it over and over in his hands, resenting the weight of it, the sloshing of the liquid that cost him something forever unattainable. Irreplaceable. The tears in his eyes blur his vision, and trickle down his face, at odds with the shaking audible crying he refuses to let out.

Caught in a sudden bout of anger, he grits his jaw, raises the bottle over his head to bring it down and-

Stops. 

Would that do anything but make a mess on his floor, he thinks bitterly. It doesn’t matter if he quit altogether if he smashed every bottle in the liquor cabinet and got himself banned from every bar and club he could think of. It wouldn’t undo the months of ignorance and neglect he’d put her through, it wouldn’t bring her back to him. 

So Leon does the only thing he knows that makes the pain go away. 

Leon leans back, defeated. Hollow, empty, and hurting. 

He uncaps the bottle.

Requests Are Open!

(04/07/2023)

[medstudydiary]

Study tips I wish I knew and followed sooner

15/8/2024

Hello everyone! I haven’t posed for a while because I was preparing this post. I’m so excited to share it!!!

Here I collected everything I was able to think about study tips. Obviously these are things that work for me so it’s absolutely okay if different things work for you, maybe share them in the comments so we can help and inspire each other🌸

I’ll maybe update the list as I learn more tips, or if you prefer I can collect new tips in a part two or give each tip a post, again let me now in the comments what you’d prefer💕

Less is more when underlining. Do use highlighter for key words, than circle words of secondary importance and underline something else. Absolutely do not underline/highlight/circle everything you’ll study, just those words that will help you remember the rest of that paragraph. It can help to use different colours but only when there are lists or categories because it helps you remember things as distinguished from one another. But I wouldn’t go crazy with colours in other situations

Take notes during lectures just to follow the explanation. Unless the subject is really easy and it’s fast to summarise it (which is usually the case in high school but not really in university), do NOT turn those notes into the thing you’ll study from or you’ll end up summarising the whole book and rewriting your notes to make them more pleasant and understandable. Just let yourself be messy if needed and use them to pay attention during class and to write things you didn’t understand or connections you want to explicitly see on paper. Paying attention in class really does pay off because you’ve already been exposed to the material before you actually study it

Start as early as possible, do not procrastinate until it’s gonna be really hard to prepare the exam. The pain of studying is better than the pain of regret in my opinion. Plus, you’ll be at peace and relaxed during exam season too when everyone else will be panicking because you won’t feel behind in your work

Get ready to study. Make yourself pretty. You can have everything, if you’re dressed for it. You don’t need to be uncomfortable with heels or anything like that, but wear something that makes you feel confident and determined

Moving your body before studying or during a break can help you be more present and remove brain fog. A simple walk outside really does the trick for me, it doesn’t need to be anything intense

Do not set an amount of pages to study per day as a goal at first. The first days just study for a chosen amount of hours and see how many pages you get to do a day of that particularly subject. Than you’ll be able to choose a realistic daily goal of pages to study. That’s because not every subject is the same and maybe you’d be setting unrealistic daily goals that will just demotivate you. This is why it’s important to start early: you get to find your rhythm for studying that subject and if it’s just 15 pages a day you’ll be able to do so without stressing

Give yourself a week or two depending on you and the exam of just revising before an exam. It’s important so that if you have days where you can’t function because of anxiety or if you need to clarify things you can do that without stressing

If the exam requires exercising, start practicing as soon as possible

If you only have a multiple choice kind of exam, memorise through quizzing yourself and exercises if needed

If the exam is (also) oral, you should (also) practice talking from the start by studying out loud

Sit in front of the class during lectures to pay attention better

Paper>digital because digital screens cause bad eyesight, digital things can get you distracted and because as you proceed on paper you’ll turn pages and you’ll get the feeling of progressing while seeing yourself going further in the book

Do not compare. Not everyone has the same strengths nor experience to get the same performance. But with discipline you can still get the same results, or even better

Study with a friend. You don’t neeed to study out loud together, the company is enough motivation because you feel accountable for one another and that stimulates you to do better. Plus, breaks are much more fulfilling and actually resting because you talk to another human being instead of going on your phone

Removing distractions means out of sight out of mind. Do not just turn off your phone and let it on the desk. Move it to another room and leave it there

Discipline is like a muscle. Resist the urge to do something else (checking your phone, watching Netflix, going to eat something, …). Acknowledge the urge and just stop yourself from satisfying it. If you can’t concentrate either, that’s okay. Just sit still without doing anything until the urge passes, then you can go back to studying with more concentration

Kill the fear whilst it’s small. Don’t procrastinate, instead face your challenges as soon as you can. The only way out is through

Talk to someone if you need help. If you need someone to check in on you, ask your roommate or relatives. If you didn’t understand something, ask the professor or your classmates. If you need emotional support, talk to the people close to you. It really does help

Go to the exam. Even if everything tells you that you’ll fail. Because you never know if you get lucky and only get asked the things you know. It happened to me quite a few times. The worst thing that can happen is that you have to do the exam again, the best is that you passed the exam. You never lose

Positive attitude and responsibility are key. Find the positive thing in every situation and realise that you have a huge responsibility in preparing for exams. You can’t control everything, but you can control the work you put into the preparation and that’s amazing because nobody can take that from you

There’s not a right time for anything. There’s just time and what you do with it. If it’s 5:17 pm you don’t need to wait until 5:30 pm to start studying. Just count to three and start. Do not look for the best time to study on the internet. Some people will tell you it’s 6 am, others will tell you something different. Listen to your body and pay attention to your mind. When are you the most concentrated? Than handle the day according to that. When you are the most active and concentrated you should study new material. When you are still energised but less focused, you should revise previous work and/or practice it

Sport, friends, family, hobbies and sleep are not a plus but a must. They have been a plus for me for so many years and I’ve been burnt out for almost a year. You need to take that hour or half hour to workout, preferably outside so you get that vitamin D. You need to see friends and family to avoid isolation. You need hobbies to feel rewarded for your hard work. You need to sleep because during sleep you strengthen neuronal patterns about the things you’ve studied, and sleeping helps you lower cortisol which is the stress hormone and keeping high levels of it is really bad and counterproductive. You need to balance everything because you gotta avoid at all costs chronic stress

Fear of failure is such a useless thing. It freezes you and makes you feel like the world is gonna explode if you fail. That’s bullshit of course. You are so much more than what you fail in, especially if you put in the work anyway. Don’t worry about how many times you fall, because the real difference is made by how many times you get up and try again. Fail, then fail better. Until you get it. Who cares? And even if someone does care, it’s their problem. As long as you are trying, you’re doing progress because remember that little progress is still progress. To worry less about failing, do the things you’re scared to fail at. If you fail, you’ll realise nothing bad really happens. And if you succeed, you’ll surprise yourself. Doubt kills way more opportunities than failure ever will, remember that

Be careful who you surround yourself with. If you are already really well organised and following a balanced lifestyle, then stay with whoever you like. But if you’re working on your lifestyle and don’t feel really productive nor satisfied with it yet, surround yourself with people who do have the lifestyle you’re looking for. That’s because when you’re still working on it you’re more likely to pick up habits from those around you

Be honest with yourself. Was the professor really a dick or did you not study that topic? Do you really need to rest are do you just want to avoid the work? Will you be able to do the work you wanted to if you go out right now? Telling yourself excuses makes you accumulate feelings of rage and subconscious disappointment and you enter the victim mentality instead of taking accountability and realising you can do a lot to change a situation. If you tell yourself excuses you’ll end up not trusting yourself and that’s so hard to fix

Often what people say about a professor is completely subjective, usually because they’ve had a bad experience with her/him and therefore want (usually subconsciously) to scare other students by sharing it. So you never really know if they are lying so that you have a bad experience with that teacher too, or maybe they deserved that strict treatments because they were rude and unprepared, … You really never know until you experience it first hand. Do ask many students and go attend to other people’s exam if possible so that you get an idea of who the professor is and how he structures the exam, make sure to listen to more opinions and never take them for granted. Know that everything might be biased

Take advices, but remember that many people want to see you do good, but never better than them. This doesn’t apply for everyone of course, but to many people yes

Pomodoro technique or deep work? Who fucking knows honestly lmao. Not everything will have the same rhythm and difficulty. For some topics or subjects you’ll have a headache after one hour trying to understand two pages. For others you’ll study without stopping for four hours because everything will seem to just be clear to you and to be sticking to your brain. Don’t follow a rule, just start and have a break when you’re struggling to fit in other informations

What you eat matters. Light meals to avoid feeling sleepy right afterwards help you study right after eating. Water keeps your brain in shape. Proteins keep you full and carbs keep you going. Sugar is tricky because it gives you energy right away but after little time you’ll need more, leading you to eating too much sugar and feeling foggy. Prefer healthy carbs instead of sugar (do eat some sugary treats if you want of course lol) like rice to have a more sustained energy release and mental clarity. These are the things that work for me anyway, you can experiment and see if you work better when eating many small meals or fewer big meals. Everyone is different and I’m not a nutritionist so listen to your body and try to be healthy

Celebrate small victories

Realistic goals please. Wanting to study 100 pages everyday is usually pretty unrealistic in a healthy and even in an unhealthy lifestyle. Not achieving your goals makes you feel like you can’t trust nor rely on yourself and that demotivates you

To focus try to think about the material. Read a sentence and tell yourself what it’s explaining you. Associate it with other things you’ve studied or experienced. Create little stories into your mind to remember a series of events. Anagrams for lists of names. Highlight, circle and underline as explained in one of the first points. Even give titles to paragraphs if you need to. Do this things with your own words and if you need to write them, do it right next to the paragraph. If you do these things you can’t think about something else because these require effort and attention. This a called active studying because you’re not passively reading and highlighting or repeating word for word without understanding but you’re really absorbing what you’re studying

Revise things constantly. Not a week later, but the next day. And if the next day you still don’t feel like you’ve memorised it, repeat it again the following day. If you remember it, repeat it 3 or 5 or 7 days later based on how much you retain things and how much you feel like you’ve memorised it. And after you’ve reached one week, keep repeating based on your needs. This is absolutely a game changer otherwise one or two weeks before the exam when you’ll want to revise everything again, you’ll realise you’ll have to study again a lot of things because you haven’t revised then. Such a waste! This is called spaced repetition, but instead of telling you a specific technique, I believe you need to listen to yourself and realise how much you’ve retained something to understand when to revise it again. Not every topic is the same and not everything you’ve memorised is relevant to you, so some things require more repetition than others and it’s up to you to see when it’s more for. But be honest with yourself, don’t tell yourself you know something just because you don’t want to revise. Reading again something is not revising it because just because it will feel familiar, doesn’t mean you’re able to talk about it completely recalling from memory. It’s important for you to repeat from memory, even if you struggle and feel like you don’t remember. Give yourself more credit and try to remember for at least 10 seconds before peeking on the book

Have something you enjoy while studying. It can be music (only music that does NOT have lyrics like lofi music or rain), a cup of tea, a candle, …

Switch up the location if you can’t focus

You don’t need a thousand pens, notebooks and colours to be productive and organised, but I believe it’s not a bad idea to have a different notebook for each subject where you take notes and write diagrams or whatever you need to better comprehend that subject

[ewanmitchelll]

Imagine you go camping with Ewan Mitchell…

Warnings: explicit smut, friends to lovers, fluffy ending.

Recommendations: “Video Games” & “Ride” by Lana del Rey because of my Scorpio moon.

***

You have been his friend since you could remember. You two share a strong, timeless bond. Where he went, you’d follow. This hasn’t changed when he ascended as a celebrity star after starring as Aemond Targaryen on his latest work.

In fact, Ewan has been missing his long time best friend, his dear Y/Nickname. And because he’s been working too hard, he knows he needs a break. More importantly: he wants to have a break with you.

Coincidently, you are on vacations too when he reaches for you. Unlike him, you chose a more discreet job, one of the kind there is no glamour whatsoever. Teaching humanities is tiresome, exhausting, and not really well paid—but knowledge is a big passion of yours, so here you are in spite of yourself.

“Hey, Y/Nickname”, he calls you midday just after you left school, when you finally have a break from self entitled teenager students. “What’s up?”

You smile instinctively when hearing his low, husky voice. You pretend not to notice how your heart skips a beat.

“Hey, you! I can’t believe you are calling me after all this time!”, you laugh joyfully, hardly considering that Ewan is smiling on the line, enjoying the sound of your voice, missing the thunderous laughter of yours.

“What an unjust comparison, Y/Nickname. We’ve just spoken the other day after I came back from touring for “House Of The Dragon”.”, says he, chuckling low. “I happen to remember that you are on vacations, right?”

He could picture you making a grimace at his wording, something you just did.

“Well you can easily disappear, so one never knows”, you shrug your shoulders off. “Indeed I am. Why?”

“I’m considering kidnapping you this weekend”, he beams. “I do recollect being told of your fondness for countrysides. We should head to Bath, perhaps? There’s a region we could go camping, staying close to the nature.”

Your face lightens up at the suggestion.

“That is lovely of you! Who else do you plan to invite?”

“Uh… Well, I considered only the two of us since we always did this kind of stuff together”, Ewan speaks awkwardly, not realizing what he’d done. Not that he minds it, but he fears you might not correspond it.

You notice his awkwardness, displeased for being the cause of it. You don’t seem to perceive how eager you are in mending the situation.

“Of course! I just… Well. You were never really patient when it came to my slowness in climbing”, you make a joke in hopes to ease him, which works.

His laughters make your heart race, and you are at peace for fixing the situation. Neither of you are adolescents, prompted to foolishness, but there are moments where it feels like when you two were young and easily disconcerted by anything that could ruin the balance of the harmony.

"I promise I'm a better human being than last time", he chuckles, following the reference of when you both were 18 and went out for camping with a group of friends; there was a moment when you and him nearly got in a fight because he was too impatient and you were too slow.

"On that I agree otherwise we wouldn't be here", you joke back. "So when do you plan to go?"

"Tonight. I intend to drive all way, so the sooner the better."

You gasp in surprise. Not usually the one to act out of the blue, you are indeed caught off guard by Ewan’s typical unpredictability.

“What?”, you hear his chuckles. “You know I am not a very patient man. I’ll pick you up by 12 o’clock.”

There is no arguing, as usual doesn’t. He is your Achilles heal, you always knew that. So you turn off your phone and head back home for your first day off school.

***

When he stops by your household, he’s dressing casually with his usual smirk and sunglasses.

“Ready, sunshine?” He calls out after you.

You manage to bring only the sufficient for a week—three days camping and the next four in Ewan’s country house—so all you do is toss your backpack inside the car, before taking a seat next to him.

“I suppose I am, darling”, you flash him a smile. “How’s the celebrity chasing so far?”

Ewan rolls his eyes before starting to drive away.

“I detest what comes with being an actor, you know it. And honestly to God, what’s so interesting about me that makes people so eager to the point of trying to know who am I dating with…”

“And are you?”

Ewan looks at you, partially baffled, partially amused.

“What?”

“Are you in a relationship, Ewan?”, you try to use your poker face with him as you ask such a question, but it only brings you both to laughters.

“If I were, you’d be the first to know”, says he with a smile.

“I have my questions about that”, you respond with a tease.

“Come on, now. When have I ever kept you in the dark? You are always the first to know!”

And just like that your heart races. Dangerously fast. The moment you realize is…too late.

***

Ewan doesn’t realize he’s been watching you until you playfully scoff at him for his staring. Somehow your amused remark makes him blush and look away, making him say something silly in return.

Trying not to give attention to these incoherent thoughts, Ewan decides to focus on something else.

“You know what we should do?”, he hears you saying.

“Hm?”

“Swimming around a nearby lake. I bet there is one here if we look well”, you tell him.

“Sure, then. Why not?”

And he smiles when you smile for no reason at all. Quietly, you two go into the woods, looking for a spot where some lake can be found. It doesn’t really take this long—thanks to Ewan’s knowledge of the place and previous use of gps.

However, there is a subtle change in the dynamics of your friendship when both of you remove your clothes to jump in.

“Thankfully I came prepared, already dressed in swim suits”, you are saying before jumping in the cold water.

Ewan chuckles lightly, wearing only his shorts before following you. Once you come after surface, he swims right to you.

“It’s been a while”, he muses, “since we’ve had this time together.”

“It’s true”, you say, unsure why you feel nervous for his proximity, wishing somehow he gets closer to you.

Oh.

“So how’s school? I want to hear more of you, Y/N”,he swims around you. “Do you plan to run away from me?”

You feel like a prey about to fall into the hunter’s prey, but in such a good way. You smile warmly at him.

“My life is hardly as interesting as yours is”, you say. “I love what I do, but I’m glad I’m on vacations.”

“Aren’t we all? But don’t say that, you are interesting. You are human.” He stops swimming to stand before you.

Neither you realize that, in this brief silence, clouds are already dismissing any ray of light in the sky, little by little taking over the space—ready to bring some rain.

“But I’m not as glamorous as your work colleagues”, your insecurity takes the best of you.

His hands are now resting on your waist, slowly pulling you closer. You put yours over his shoulder, playing with his wet hair.

“Fuck them”, he smiles when seeing you smile at his words. “You’ve always been my favourite person in the world, Y/Nickname.”

Your heart races and you blush; but the moment you look away is when he gently makes you look back at him, is also when it starts to rain.

“There’s a reason I have always wanted you nearby”, he whispers as you are drawn closer. “But I was too scared to face the truth.”

Your eyes are wide open at his subtle confession. You gently cup his face with your hands, realizing what you sought to dismiss in this time. Both of you are surprised when you say those words first.

“I love you”.

“I love you too, Y/Nickname”, he smiles in relief before finally pressing his lips against yours in a most passionate kiss.

The rain drops in your skin are much more welcoming as you are tangled against Ewan’s back, peppering kisses around his neck as he swims with you around the lake. It’s a cozy, chilly weather, most appropriated for your taste.

When he pulls you at him again, you realize how late you noticed the deep tons of your love for him.

“You are staring”, Ewan accuses you playfully.

“I am”, you giggle. “I was merely thinking…”

“About?”

“You”.

“Oh.”

You throw your hands around his neck as if you fear to lose him, but his hands embrace you all the same.

“I took too long to notice I love you”, you whisper in his ear, resting your head in his shoulder.

He doesn’t meet your gaze, but you spot a week blush painting his cheeks.

“So did I”, he admits after a while. “I thought you would never return my sentiments.”

“How so?”, you ask, amused.

He casts you a side way glance.

“Because of that jerk you dated”, he snorts.

“Only because you wouldn’t give me enough attention”, you tease him.

Rolling his eyes, he pulls you to him again. Stroking your face gently, he smirks:

“Really now, Y/N?”

And without waiting for a response, Ewan’s lips collide against yours.

***

You are already dressed in a white shirt and black shorts. Today it’s warmer than the day before, even though you and Ewan burnt your marshmallows on fire.

Now you are lying on your sleeping bag, eyes on your now boyfriend. Believing you to be asleep—since you stopped bubbling—, he is removing his clothes, prompted to sleep.

Your eyes watch as he changes his clothes, taking a peek at his well build muscles. You feel so suddenly a discomfort in your feminine parts, rising to your chest and making your nipples go hard.

You haven’t been familiar with this sentiment for a very long time—you are not one for casual sex, so you learned to repress your horny thoughts. Such is your thinking when Ewan surprises you.

“So you have been watching, eh?”, he chuckles, sliding to your sleeping bag. “Looks like the two of us fits here just fine.”

You blush deeply at his remark.

“I…I may have been watching, yes.”

Ewan chuckles, slowly moving closer to you. His hand on your waist makes you unconsciously gasp. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Is my girl well?”

“Yes, she is”, you mumble awkwardly.

Aware of what might that be, he laughs quietly before cupping your face and kissing you slowly at first.

Your defenses are instantly melted. He is now over you, hands on your face before sliding to your waist. You gently spread your legs, giving him enough space so it’s comfortable for you two.

Your hands move to his shoulders up to his neck and hair, wrapping your fingers around his locks. But when he parts the kiss to slide his lips to your neck, you cannot help but to breath heavily.

“You haven’t been treated well”, Ewan muses softly, gently biting your neck as his hands go right under your shirt. “My darling, I’ve been waiting for this, when I can show you how well treated you should be.”

“Ewan”, you whimper against his lips, already wrapping your legs around his hips.

“Yes?”, he looks at you, hands upper to your shirt. “You think I’d not notice what were you wearing today? That I would not desire your full breasts?”

Your face reddens at his words. The same unbearable heat comes again, but this time Ewan is there to help ease things. He smirks down at you as he begins to stroke your nipples.

“I noticed so damn well, love”, he groans as you begin to react under his sweet touch. “I’ve always wanted you.”

You gasp again, lifting your arms as he removes your shirt. Zipping your sleeping bag, he makes sure it gets comfortable as his eager mouth drops to your breasts.

“Fuck, Ewan!”, you cry out.

“I will definitely do that, my sweet”, he smirks down at you, taking his time with you.

Not long after that, his impatient fingers find the way to your feminine core.

“Hmm, so damn wet for me, Y/N”, he whispers hotly against your ear. “Are you mine?”

He knows you like him bossy. Little surprise there is when you succumb so easily.

“Yes, Ewan. I am yours”, you moan sensually, arousing him further.

Finally mending the years of sexual tension, Ewan makes up for it. That night, as his body locks with yours, all has been worth it. And all has been consumed.

* * *

When you wake up the next day, you almost panic for not seeing him around. Quickly you put your clothes on, but there is no need to look for him as he walks inside with a basket with fishes.

“What? You’d really think I left you here? Who do you think I am?”, he snorts playfully as he bends to kiss your temple. “Got us some nice fish”.

You smile at him, warmly so as you follow him outside. Although it’s midday, fire is lighted and he prepares to cook fish as you take a seat.

“I have my insecurities.”

Ewan casts you a quickly glance.

“I should have known better, I’m sorry, love. I figured you’d sleep well after midday.”

“Riding you does require some energy”, you speak mischievously, pleased to make him blush.

“Hence why you slept better then?”

You two share a laughter, before you rest your forehead against his shoulder.

“Is this a dream?”

“No”. Ewan puts the fish aside to look at you. There is tenderness in his eyes when he says: “I’ll stay with you forever…if you allow me.”

You beam at him, clinging onto Ewan tighter.

“Yes, my dearest.”

He rests his forehead against yours. Never before there had been peace for you both. And just like he promised, he stayed in your life forever indeed.

[triforce-of-mischief]

Scared Little Bunny

Summary: Legend has transformed in the middle of camp, and he can't find his moon pearl. Rabbit finds his young counterpart in a familiar situation and gives the little bunny a chance to breathe.

Words: 580

AO3

Please reblog to show your support! Likes do nothing.

Rabbit walked through the woods, somewhere between the other group’s camp and his own. Even with the extra nine elsewhere, twelve was still a lot and nobody argued when Rabbit left in search of a clear mind. His wandering thoughts were interrupted by something under his boot, and he idly crouched to pick it up.

The object was a moon pearl, identical to his own. He couldn’t imagine that Legend would be careless enough to drop his, but the worry took him in a new direction. He dropped the moon pearl in his bag for safekeeping until he reached the others’ camp.

Nearly the entire party was present, save for Time, Four, and Sky who Rabbit guessed were scouting or foraging. The rest, overwhelmingly teenagers, were making quite the racket. Rabbit’s ears flicked back; so much for a moment’s peace. He didn’t see Legend either, so he made his way to Twilight instead.

The rancher, Rabbit could see as he approached, was fending off the rest against something he held in his arms. Wild and Wind were clamoring to see, while Hyrule stood back with his arms crossed. Warriors and Twilight were engaged in a heated argument above the younger boys’ heads.

“He’s scared, Twi!” Warriors hissed. “He trusts me more, just give him to me!”

“He trusts me plenty!” Twilight snapped back, his arms tightening defensively around whatever he was holding.

“What,” Rabbit said loudly, “is going on here?”

Twilight snarled at him, but Warriors looked relieved.

“It’s Legend,” Warriors explained immediately. “He’s changed and we don’t know how and Twi won’t even let me see him.”

That explained the missing moon pearl, Rabbit thought, and spoke to Twilight with a tone that left no question of who was the adult in charge. “Give.”

Twilight was too dumbfounded to argue as Rabbit took the tiny pink bundle from his arms. Legend was too distressed to speak, for all appearances simply a whimpering bunny saved from suffocating in Twilight’s hold.

Rabbit spun on his heel to mixed confusion and disappointment from the others. “He’ll be back when he’s ready, and no sooner,” he promised. “I’ll keep him safe.”

Rabbit took Legend away from the commotion, his heart breaking as the bunny continued to panic. “I know,” he whispered. “It’s alright, I have you now.”

He remembered being tiny and helpless and scared. He didn’t want to think about how much younger Legend had been- how much younger Legend still was.

He found a nice tree and sat with his back against it. Legend was crying now, in the way bunnies did; pitiful squeaks and snuffles and Rabbit could feel him shivering as well. He considered transforming himself, but decided that it would be better for Legend to regain his own body first.

Rabbit ran his finger along Legend’s ears, pressed flat to the bunny’s head. “It’s okay, you don’t have to hide anymore,” Rabbit hummed, and pressed the twin moon pearl to Legend’s paw.

Legend didn’t seem to notice his transformation, and Rabbit carefully closed Legend’s hand around his moon pearl. Legend was on Rabbit’s lap now, his head still resting on Rabbit’s chest, and he hadn’t stopped crying. Whatever had happened, it had been entirely too overwhelming.

Rabbit cooed at him, hugging him gently so he wouldn’t feel trapped. “Shh, it’s okay, little bunny. I won’t let anything scare you.”

As long as it took for Legend to feel like himself again, Rabbit would protect him.

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Twenty-seven

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: fluff, angst, hurt-comfort

— WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

Their return to Rome was made in colder weather and was a bit more weighed down with gifts and souvenirs and books they joked they ‘rescued’ from the French. They looked upon returning to work with a measure of dread although Tom enjoyed a certain nervous energy at the prospect of using the Polyjuice potion. He hadn’t used one since he needed to sneak into the Headmaster’s office in fifth year. She was sniffling a bit and coughing on the train but they put that down to how early they had to wake up that morning, running on no breakfast too. They bought a few things from a shop near the station, loading their already bursting luggage with cheese and sausages and a whole box of sweets. The croissants they saved for eating on the train and shared between them a baguette with butter.

It was Friday when they returned to Rome and there was nothing left for them to do but return to their own flats.

Tom wouldn’t get to see her again until Monday… It was strange after so many days spent with one person to be alone again, in a silence that felt hollow rather than peaceful, in a bed that remained cold all night. He didn’t miss her though… That couldn’t be. Although it did make him ask himself the uncomfortable question of how he’d feel once all of this was over and he went back to England all alone.

II

He saw her sooner than he thought he would. Something compelled him to pick up the phone and call her on Saturday afternoon when he was sure she’d had her fill of sleep. The voice that answered was, however, not her own.

“Hello?” Raspy, frayed, almost choked up and sore to even hear.

“Is that you?” Tom asked.

“Tom? Hi!”

He frowned, trying to imagine why she’d sound so different. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” she answered, a shifting sound making its way to him as she plopped down onto the armchair.

“You sound awful.”

“I am.”

He sighed and moved the receiver to his other ear. “What happened?”

“I might have caught a cold while travelling… How do you feel?”

“Good enough, I suppose.”

“That’s good,” she smiled.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Oh yes, plenty of food, some aspirin… I’ll be alright in a few —” And there she cut off, moving away from the phone to cough into her elbow, but Tom heard it anyway. “— a few days.”

“Really?”

“I was overdue a cold, really. Haven’t had one in years.”

Tom hummed, displeased with everything that he was hearing. An urge itched beneath his skin, his feet and hands suddenly restless.

“I’ll come to you.”

“No! You might — might catch it too,” she said, her voice strained with the suppressed urge to cough again.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Tom, I m-mean it,” she said with a sniffle and a sigh. “If I’m not good on Monday, you’ll have to hold the fort.”

“Which is exactly why I want you to get better soon,” he said with a wry smile. “Now go back to bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He hung up before she could protest anymore and started packing a few things to take to her. He was sorry now that he hadn’t brought along a Pepperup Potion or bought one while they were in Paris. Tom rarely got sick himself so it hadn’t crossed his mind.

“Damn it, there’s nowhere to buy the ingredients from either… Maybe Mandrake root, but that’s hardly enough. Damn muggles,” he cursed as he rifled through his pantry.

It took a little while from when he knocked on her door until she answered. When he saw her he could tell why. Her sheepish smile, her tired eyes, her messy hair, and the fact that she was in her pyjamas told him she had been wallowing in bed.

“Hello,” she said with a strained voice.

Tom greeted her by bringing the back of his hand to her forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I know that,” she mumbled and walked back inside.

Tom closed the door behind them and started taking his coat off. He moved on to the kitchen and put a kettle on with a low fire. His feet sounded up and down the creaky floorboards while he set everything up. She stood against the wall and watched him, her arms in a tight hug around herself, coughs bursting now and then unbidden and muffled by her elbow. She winced with every motion and although she tried to hide it even her back was bent as if it was a struggle to stand up.

“You should go back to bed,” he said, frowning at her.

“It’s nice to see you too. What are you doing?”

He turned again and started chopping something up, his eyebrow cocked at her stubbornness and curiosity. “I’m making tea,” he said evasively. “Now, go back to bed. Are you wearing socks, at least?”

“Yes, mother,” she grumbled.

He shot her a cold look over his shoulder and that finally sent her away.

“I have wine in the cupboard,” she shouted from bed, her voice breaking at the edges of each word. “Help yourself.”

“I think we’ve had enough wine in France, don’t you?”

She grumbled something that wasn’t quite a word but Tom looked for the wine anyway. It at least gave him some ideas…

None of what he had to work with was magic but it would have to do. The properties of plants that muggles had access to were not quite easy to extract without the proper spells or incantations while they grew and so their power was diminished. Still, there were a lot of things that he could do even with what she had lying around the house and what he’d bought at the little shop around the corner. He walked into the bedroom a while later, a full plate on his hands. She lay in bed curled up and reading, more sapless than he had seen her even after the most gruelling day of work.

“What’s that?” she asked as soon as she saw him, raising herself to a sitting position against the pillows.

“Have you eaten?” Tom asked instead of an answer.

She tried to speak but coughed instead, covering half her face with her sleeve and groaning all the while. From her frown, he could tell it hurt her.

“Muscle pains?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Erm, I had an apple this morning. And two cups of tea.”

“Pathetic,” he mumbled, setting the plate down on her bedside table. “I’ve brought you buttered toast and in that mug is chicken soup with garlic and hot peppers. And here,” he continued, picking up another mug carefully by the handle and giving it to her, “is something that should help with that nasty cough. Breathe it in while it’s hot, then drink it.”

“What is it?”

“Careful, it’s scalding.”

She pulled her sleeves over her hands and took it. When she brought it to her face to give it a smell she immediately recoiled.

“It’s just something the nurses used to give us when we caught a cold during the war, at the orphanage,” said Tom as he turned around to stir the soup. “Rationing was pretty tough in England back then. Still is. People learned to make do with what they had.”

She seemed to believe him, watching him with wide eyes in silence. Beside the bed in an improvised bin made out of an old shoebox, he saw a pile of used tissues, and now that he paid attention her nose seemed a little red as well. He frowned, upset with her for being so fragile, and yet not feeling the burn of anger much at all.

“I found a way to slip into it a few special ingredients,” he said with a faint smile. “How is it?”

She breathed it in again and winced, tears beading at the corners of her eyes. “It feels like it goes right through me…”

“It’s hot wine with cloves, red pepper, ginger, and a bit of nutmeg.”

“Smells awful… Makes me dizzy.”

“Yes, well, I wager it’s better than a stuffy nose. You sound like a duck.”

He got up to go rifle through her drawers and came back with a towel. Without asking, he covered her head with it like a veil and pulled it over the mug as well, forcing her to breathe in its sharp fumes. She sighed but obeyed, inhaling the foul concoction that, in truth, had more ingredients than he admitted. He wasn’t sure she’d go through with drinking it if she knew, or at least she’d think him crazy, but he cared more about seeing her back on her feet and by his side. His hand went down to her back and he rubbed her gently, feeling her breathe in and out as he muttered the only soothing spell he knew.

He turned on the radio to fill the silence between them, knowing that she needed some distraction. He stopped searching when he heard an opera — The Magic Flute. Outside the sun was already setting, fading earlier each day. Tom looked out the window while she struggled with his brew, his gaze of cold disgust falling on the overflowing trash bins, the shits of stray animals drying on street corners, the vagrants ambling off toward the bar…

“Never thought I’d miss Paris,” he sneered.

She laughed from underneath the towel and in between coughing she rasped, “Want to go back?”

“Not until you’re better.”

He couldn’t criticise her much for her poor choices. He had much the same view on Knockturn Alley although there the streets were dark enough that he couldn’t see most of the horrors. Only smell them if he opened the window.

She drank as much of the hot wine as she could, complaining the whole time. Some of the ingredients got stuck between her teeth and she spent a good while picking them out and placing them beside the soggy toast. She got maybe halfway through it before it cooled too much to be effective. Tom sighed and yanked it from her, handing her the chicken soup that he was quick to heat again with a nonverbal spell.

“You can go home, you know,” she said in between coughs. “I don’t want you catching something.”

“I won’t, don’t worry.”

She eyed him suspiciously, disbelieving what he said, but Tom knew a common cold was not enough to take him down. Alas, he couldn’t explain that to her, just like he couldn’t explain why that concoction was so strong or why it was already working to clear her stuffy nose. A large part of his life would forever have to be closed shut to her and he could never even say so or be able to explain why.

“Sit down at least,” she said. “Eat something.”

So he sat beside her on the bed, legs hanging off the side and swinging unconsciously to the tune of the music on the radio.

“What will you do if I’m not well by — achoo — by Monday?” she asked. “You’ll have to inform Berit, you know? That I’m not there. My pay will have to be — cough — deducted.”

“I’ll work mostly upstairs,” Tom shrugged, chewing on a piece of toast. “I’ll phone the Baron’s office too. Don’t worry about them.”

“Ugh, the new university year just started. We get a lot of students around this time, mostly from the History department. Looking for old maps and such. You can expect a busy week.”

“We’ll have to be downstairs more often than not, though.”

“Oh yes, I almost forgot. That wretched auction…”

Tom opened his mouth to speak but another round of coughing caught her. She clutched her stomach again when she was done, her eyes closed shut in pain.

“You need sugar,” he said, “something sweet. It will help with the muscle soreness.”

“I have you, don’t I?” she smiled “You’re sweet enough.”

Tom scoffed. “Don’t count on it. And stop talking about work for once. I swear, it’s like you’re intent on making yourself sick.”

He shuffled uncomfortably on the bed. It wasn’t even seeing her so sick that made him feel strange, it was that he seemed to care more about her health than she did. She was silent for a moment, then frowned at him quite fiercely. Without even a word she handed him the soup back and turned over on her side.

Tom rolled his eyes. “Don’t get petulant now.”

“You’re so pushy and mean. I’ll be fine on my own. I don’t need your charity.”

“I only want to see you get better.”

“Oh, just take your mumbo jumbo and your medieval potions and go away, Tom.”

That hurt him more than he expected. To have his help rejected was one thing, but after all the trouble he’d gone through to find even those few ingredients, to put them together for her — which in truth was not much trouble, but it was more than he’d done for anybody else — all to have it thrown in his face as a “medieval potion”… Well, he shouldn’t have expected more from a mere muggle.

“Fine then. Be sick and on your own. I don’t care.”

She peeked over her shoulder at him as he got up from the bed. He could tell her eyes were red but he pretended to see none of it as he prepared to leave. He could hear her coughing, whining, and weakly call his name as he picked up everything he’d brought and left her flat.

III

Tom’s anger enveloped him like a shroud, trailing after him all the way home. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know how to care for a sick person… Wasn’t his fault he didn’t know how to care at all or had any better bedside manners other than what he’d seen at Wool’s. Forcing someone to drink some mysterious medicine was the normal way to deal with these things, wasn’t it? Still, she could have been a bit more grateful, a bit more… open-minded.

In truth, he realised, as he reached his dingy flat and could finally shut away the world outside, that her reaction — however justified by aches or fever — brought back his worst fears about her: that she could never accept him as a wizard, that she would be horrified, recoil, just as his father did when he learned his mother was a witch. That deep wound which started festering in his second year when he found out the truth was scraped back open by her words and now he could not close it. He hated her for a full day, distracting himself with measly research he cared too little about. On Sunday, he almost phoned her but found enough reasons not to — maybe she was still sick and stuck in bed, maybe she was mad at him, maybe he would just make things worse.

He wouldn’t see her again until Monday.

[moody-alcoholic]

More Simon

I love writing Price and Ghost scenes.

If anyone knows any good Ghost x Price stuff especially if it's spicy let me know, asking for a friend...

Link to the fic HERE

MASTERLIST

Price sits down next to me handing me a glass of whisky.

“Good mission whisky or bad mission whisky?” I ask taking it from him.

“What do you think.” I bring the glass up smelling it. It smells like leather and cigars. I push the bottom of the mask up watching the lights flick on the laptop. I drink it, it tastes of burnt wood, with a hint of honey. It’s the good whisky.

“You and Laswell made up?” I say pulling the mask back down. The whisky was burning my throat, hitting me with a wave of relaxation. I let out a long breath letting myself enjoy the feeling for a few seconds.

“We’re probably going to Ibiza.” He said as a matter of fact as I put my glass down on the table.

“When?” I asked.

“As soon as this is done and we have confirmation.” Price said pouring more whisky in the glasses.

“Farah found him?” I ask. He nods picking up his glass and leaning back.

“He’s been in Spain this whole time.” He threw the drink back reaching into his pocket and passing me a cigarette. I shake my head. He shrugs putting it back. How does he always know when I need one.

“They could have sent anyone to get this intel, what’s going on?” I ask him bluntly.

“They’re trying to keep us away from them, the Americans don’t want them dead.” He sighed. I reached over for my glass. So the Americans do want him, I wonder who the general is behind this. Now I felt insulted, they send us on some easy intel collection when Noah and Makarov aren't even here.

“What’s the general going to think?” I say swilling the whisky in the glass.

“Laswell is going to cover for us, as far as the general is concerned we’ll be in Portugal or somewhere.” He says. I pull my mask up so I can drink again then put the glass on the table. Price puts the bottle there too. I hear him sigh, I’m enjoying the whisky warming my body the only thing that could make this better is being in the house in Scotland. I missed the house it was beautiful, it felt like home. I could see Johnny’s touches all over the place. I’m glad he gave it to her, she seems so at peace when she’s there. I shouldn’t be thinking about her. Work now, I’ll make time for her later. I was killing me though not being able to comfort her today. I wasn’t even listening to what Price was saying.

“Simon.” He said nudging me, I turned to look at him. “You haven’t been listening have you?” I shook my head.

“What do you think about chasing him?” Price asks, it takes me a second to remember who we were talking about.

“If we know where he is why not, the sooner we put a stop to him the better.” I reply. He nods.

“Might have to piss a few people off if we do this.” I chuckle.

“We do that anyway.” I hear him chuckle. There was a silence now like he wanted to ask something else.

“Have you checked on her?” I ask looking at him. He looks at me.

“Yeah I did she was sleeping.” He says. That makes me feel better at least she was getting some rest.

“She’s going to be fine.” I say but it’s more for myself then anything. I look over at Price pulling my mask back down, I want to hide from Price, right now I don’t know if my expression will betray me.

“I know.” Price says. I look over at him.

“Get some rest LT, don’t be up all night.” Price said as he got up heading back upstairs. I looked at the whisky bottle and poured another glass. I didn’t want it anymore though. I sat watching the computer flick through the only light in the room now. There was no way I could be able to sleep. All I could think about was Rosaly. I couldn't the image out my head of her on that table. It made me angry, my senses were dulled by the alcohol, I almost missed the sound of steps behind me. I looked round it was Rosaly, I instantly got up.

“Hey,” I said going over to her, her eyes were puffy and red, she looked exhausted. I wrap my arms around her I feel her relax as her arms wrap round my waist. I close my eyes breathing her in. I break away grabbing her wrists taking her to the sofa sitting her down. I go into the kitchen getting a glass of water and sit down handing it to her. I take my mask off, I want her to know it’s safe here. She coughs mid drink looking around.

“It’s okay,” I say squeezing her thigh. “Everyone is asleep.” I take the glass out her hand placing it on the table. She touches my cheek running her fingers down to my chin. She leans in and kisses me, I let her, I run my hands down her back as she moves closer to me. I feel her tears hit my cheeks and I pull back wiping them with my thumb.

“Are you okay?” I ask as she leans into my arms.

“I’m okay.” She replies after a few seconds.

“Did you find anything else?” She asks.

“Some things, we just need to wait for them to be translated.” I rub her shoulder feeling her sigh and relax into me.

“Did Price and Kate make up?” She says, I hear a chuckle.

“They both have the same goals they just don’t always agree on how to get there.” It was true but there was definitely more tension then usual.

"From Price?” She asked pointing at the bottle of whisky. I nodded she reached over and picked up the glass up finishing it. She coughs squeezing her eyes closed.

“I don’t understand how you can drink that.” She says. I smile, she looks so cute I reach down and kiss her, her lips taste like honey. She pulls way looking in my eyes, she looks worried, I think she’s going to cry again so I change the subject.

“Price knows about us.” He says, a cheeky smile plays on her lips.

“I mean he did show up to my house unannounced.” She chuckles. “Did he talk to you about it?”

“Yeah, he told me not to fuck it up.” I smile, she kisses me again. She leans back into me with her body curled up in my shoulder. I kiss her head stroking her hair, it doesn't take her long before I feel her relax, her breathing slowing. I watch the computer flick through everything. I hope we can find what we’re looking for.