#Help I have made a terrible mistake
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Jurassic Sanctuary
Chapter 1: Matt - also on AO3
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Influencers Matt, Nick, and Kenny score an invite via their best friend's husband to visit Jurassic Sanctuary, an island home to the genetic experiments and dinosaurs created by the Khan family. Between the Blackpool Campus Control, Hangman Page, and the rumored human/dinosaur experiments on the island, they will get more than they bargained for.
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Note 1: I blame Jeff Goldblum for this one. Him and that stupid shirt. I have no excuse for this. If y'all thought the Mamma Mia AU was batshit crazy, hold on to your butts.
Note 2: I would like to remind all of you I am not a paleontologist or a scientist of anything in this realm, and I do not intend to be. Please read with that knowledge.
Note 3: I've tagged as I can think of, but I'll update the tags as chapters go on with anything that I've missed.
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Matt
“If you’ll take my bags.”
Matt drops the Prada luggage at the feet of one of the gentlemen who meet them at the boat. His long hair, curly at the bottom, swishes as he shakes his head, almost in disbelief.
“Oh, a fan!” Matt says. He sticks out his hand. “Nick, come on, we have a fan.”
“A what?” the guy deadpans. “No, I’m not picking up your shit. I’m coming to see what the hell you’re doing here.”
“I’m sure you’ve been informed,” Matt says. “I’m Matt Jackson, and this is my brother, Nick.” He peers over Adam’s shoulder. “Do you know where Claudio Castagnoli is? He knows us. Well, his husband knows us, mostly. Same thing.”
“I’m Hangman Page,” the guy says, carefully. “You two are the pricks coming here to make my animals a tourist trap?”
“Excuse me!” Matt says. “Rude. No, we’re here for enrichment.”
“And camera bags are for…?”
“You never know when you can make a moment,” Nick says. “Plus, we cut our luggage way down. Only two bags per person. Plus a personal item.” He holds up their travel camera bag, with a Go Pro for each of them, editing gear, and their content laptop. “That’s it. Well, and our phones.”
“No photos of the dinosaurs,” Hangman says firmly. “Especially my raptors, or the other small carnivores. You’ll be dinner in seconds.”
“Not even with the flash off?” Nick sighs and pouts. Matt’s not sure how to tell him that might not work on this guy like it did on Billy Gunn at the most recent convention.
“Not a damned change,” Page says. His glower doesn’t shift. “Fuck. Fine. Come on, I’ll take you to the Center.”
“The center?” Kenny asks, swaggering off the boat. “Hey. Kenny Omega. Also known as the Cleaner.”
“Hope that means you’re here to help me clean the animal enclosures,” Page says.
“Ew. No,” Kenny says. He adjusts his sunglasses, his leather jacket. Matt’s a little jealous – it’s colder on the island than he’d expected. His own good jacket was left at home in favor of a second pair of sneakers. “I’m here to experience the miracle of life.”
“You expecting to pump a baby into somebody?” Page asks.
“He means the dinosaurs,” Matt says, almost done arranging the bags on his shoulders. He hopes he doesn’t tip over. “He’s a philosopher on the meaning of humanity and life.”
Kenny jumps in, which Matt thinks is probably the wrong move. “My research has an emphasis on theoretical paleontology.”
“Congratulations, that’s the stupidest fucking thing anyone’s ever said,” Page says. “I’ll have to kill Claudio for this later.”
“Please don’t!” Nick says. “Our best friend would be really upset if his husband got murdered at work.”
Page stomps away, leaving Matt, Nick, and Kenny to haul their own bags.
“Not even a trolley or anything,” Nick mutters to Matt. “This is so less cool than Tyler said.”
They get inside the building.
“Gentlemen!”
A guy, somewhere around Nick’s height, probably, comes over. He has eager eyes, a giant smile, and floppy dark hair. He looks about twenty, but Matt knows he’s actually in his forties.
“Mr. Khan?” Nick asks. He puts the bags down and sticks out a hand. “Hi. Nick Jackson. Tyler Breeze connected us.”
“Of course,” Mr. Khan says, waving his hands away. “I’ve seen all your channels. Come on. Let’s get you settled in before the fun starts.”
They each get their own rooms, but it’s not like a hotel. The space feels almost more like a bunker. At the very least, they do get their own bathrooms.
“Hey.” He pokes his head out of his little pod. “Nick.” He throws a shoe at the door to Nick’s pod.
He swings open the door, frowning until he sees it was Matt. Then he takes off his own shoe and throws it at Matt, who ducks. “What?”
“It feels weird in here,” Matt mutters. “This isn’t as hotel-y as Breeze said.”
“Breeze is weird,” Nick says. “I mean, it’s not a hotel, is it? We’re here to learn about dinosaurs.” His eyes sparkle a little. “You think they’ve also cloned cryptids?”
“How many times do I need to tell you, Nick,” Matt grumbles, grabbing Nick's shoe for him. “They aren’t cryptids, they’re dinosaurs.”
“So is Nessie,” Nick says, shrugging. “Khan said to meet him outside when we were settled, right? You think he means outside these rooms, or outside the whole, like place?”
“Probably the rooms,” Matt says. He walks down the narrow hallway and knocks on Kenny’s door. He realizes these cramped rooms and halls up remind him of a cruise ship. “Kenny? You ready?”
The door swings open and Kenny leans against it, grinning. “As I’ll ever be, baby.”
“Please don’t call me baby,” Matt says, rolling his eyes. “We’ve talked about this.”
Kenny nods. “Sorry. Are we good?”
The three of them make their way to the front lobby. It’s huge, a domed ceiling with stained glass-esque windows and large doors with ornate decoration. It’s a little much, but Matt can appreciate a little bit of maximalism. The space is open, with a corner kitchen that may be intended to be a cafeteria but looks more like a giant version of some home chef’s wet dream. The couches, deep greens and greys, are huge and soft, and Matt thinks he wants to sleep on one. Just a little bit.
“Hello, gentleman,” Mr. Khan says. “I’m so sorry to be ducking out, but I have a meeting off island. I assure you, you’re in wonderful hands with my team.”
From behind him, a pretty woman with purple-black hair and sparkling eyes pops out. “Hi!” she says, waving. “I’m Willow, campus coordinator. Everybody else deals with the dinosaurs, I deal with the spreadsheets.” She sticks out her hand. “And, when we get them, visitors.”
“I’ll leave you all to it,” Tony says, clapping. Matt thinks he’s nice. Weird, but nice.
Tony leaves, the door closing loudly behind him.
“Well,” Willow says. “What do you want to know?”
They chat for a while, the four of them, until a group of other people come up the stairs. A tall dark haired woman in a dinosaur shirt. And two men in black gear. Page, the one from earlier, is there too. He’s still frowning.
“Are you seriously expecting us to babysit?” the shorter of the two men in black says. “Claudio, why the hell did you let your himbo ass husband bring his friends?”
Claudio Castagnoli smacks the other guy in the back of the head. Matt fights a snicker. “Be nice about my himbo husband,” he says. “And we’re not babysitting. They’re capable of taking care of themselves.” Claudio levels a look at Nick and Matt that would be very interesting if it were happening in a bedroom, and not with his bestie’s husband. “Aren’t you?”
“We are,” Matt says. “I promise.”
“Where are Yuta and Danielson?” Willow asks, frowning.
“Bryan’s stuck in the lab with one of his weird little plants,” the second guy in black says. “And Rexha’s having a stomach ache or something, so Yuta’s with her. I think it’s feeding day.”
“Rexha?” Nick asks, lighting up. “Is that what you named your T-Rex?”
“We didn’t,” Claudio says. “Our youngest team member, Wheeler Yuta, did.”
“Did Tony leave yet?” the woman asks. Matt watches in his periphery as Kenny slides up next to Page, whose face immediately goes red at whatever Kenny says.
Willow nods, wrapping an arm around her waist. “He should be getting the boat together right now. What’s up, Kris?”
“I was hoping he could approve an order for more external storage.” Kris sighs. “Screw it. I’ll order it myself, and you can approve it later.” She leans in and kisses Willow’s cheek. Willow meets eyes with Matt, like “What can you do?”
“Plus,” Kris says, skipping away, “I don’t feel like hanging out with more of Claudio’s twinks!”
“They are not – I don’t have any twinks!”
The other man in the black shirt rolls his eyes. “Then what do you call Tyler?”
“Stop it,” Claudio says, firmly. “We’re supposed to be hosting guests at the facility, not whatever this is.” He turns to Matt, Nick, and Kenny. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Nick says. “Are you all always this weird?”
“I could ask the same of you, but I’d know the answer is yes,” Claudio mumbles. “Now that you are here, what would you like to do this evening before we all rest?”
Matt has a million question. He has request, things he needs to know about the who and what and where. “I want to see a triceratops,” Matt blurts. He looks around at the team of people in front of him. Now that he’s in, he might as well be all in. “What? Is that out of the question?”
“No,” Willow says. She glances over at the other guy in the black shirt. Now that they’re close up, Matt can read their logo: Blackpool Campus Control. They’re not in Blackpool, and Matt is sure he could improve their design. Breeze should be doing better with that. Nobody wants their husband going out with a bad logo. “It’s not. Jon?”
“Mox,” he says. Not like he’s correcting her, more like he’s informing Matt. “I can take you, but you gotta grab some shit that wasn’t in your giant bags from earlier.” Matt doesn’t remember seeing him out there. “Maybe, like, a backpack for emergency shit. Just in case.” He frowns. “Small one, though. Hangman told me about the giant suitcases you all brought in.”
Matt fights the urge to argue. “I can do that,” Matt says. He dashes to his room and pulls out the mini bag from his actual backpack and stuffs it with the essentials. Moisturizer, chap stick, hair brush, water bottle, ibuprofen. Phone charger.
He comes back and throws the backpack over his shoulder. “Alright! I’m ready!” He pulls out his phone.
“Put that shit away,” Mox says firmly. “We aren’t taking any chances scaring the animals with unexpected noises. They hate technology.”
Matt groans. “God, fine.” He sets the phone on top of Willow’s desk. “Keep it safe for me?”
“Jesus Christ, Tony,” Mox mumbles, shaking his head.
Matt looks up at him, and wow is he tall. “Matt. I’m Matt.”
“I’m not talking to – whatever,” Mox says. He turns to Willow. “What do I get to do to them if they fuck up?”
“I’d prefer no felonies,” Willow says. “But, you know. Shit happens.” She levels a stare at Kenny, Matt, and Nick that feels deadly. “I’d hate to have to ship what’s left of your bodies back to the mainland if anyone does anything stupid, but I assure you I have the necessary labels.”
“We won’t,” Nick says, and Matt knows that look. He kicks Nick in the ankle. No falling in love on this island. “Ow!”
“Nobody’s gonna talk about how this is batshit crazy?” Page asks. “Kris and I looked at the behavioral patterns of the animals the past few days, and there’s definitely a storm on the way."
Mox nods. “For once I agree with him. We barely got supplies for the staff, and now we got three more idiots?”
“Hey!”
Nobody defends them, and Matt finds that kind of rude.
“Just saying.” Mox doesn’t duck his head, doesn’t seem to apologize.
Page, on the other hand, seems actively antagonistic. His eyes lock on Kenny, glaring. “And this one over here was already trying to tell me shit about my habitats for my dinosaurs.”
Kenny adjusts his sunglasses, adjusts his jacket. “I’m the foremost leader in paleontological theory –”
“Yeah, theory,” Page scoffs. “Jesus. Get in the field for a day and you’ll know what it’s really like.”
“Is that a challenge?” Kenny pulls off the sunglasses and gets into a stare down with Page. If he hadn’t been one of Matt’s best friends since childhood, Matt would probably put money on him getting killed by the end of the weekend. But that feels mean. “Fine. I’ll show you what theory can do.”
The two of them glare at each other in silence for longer than Matt can stand it. He glances over to Nick, who’s already looking at him.
“Fine,” Page says through gritted teeth. “Maybe after today you’ll rethink that stupid fucking line.” He stomps off, not waiting, but Kenny follows. He waggles his fingers as he slides his sunglasses back on. “Have fun, boys. I’m sure I will.” One last wink, and then he’s off.
“Triceratops?” Mox asks, sighing. That can’t be his shirt. It’s way too tight. “Fucking – fine. Let’s go.”
Matt glances at Nick again.
“I’ll be good,” Nick says, and it’s a lie if Matt’s ever heard one, “I kind of want to see the experimental exhibits.”
“Tyler told me about your interest in cryptids,” Claudio says. He’s not frowning, exactly, but he at least looks more comfortable here than he had at Matt and Nick’s Influencer Gala. “They aren’t cryptids, though. They’re genetically enhanced and Tony’s dad has been working on this project for decades.” His stare is intense. “Which means, if anything goes wrong…”
“I’ll be good!” Nick says again. “I won’t touch a thing. I’ll follow the rules.”
Matt scoffs, and Nick kicks him in the ankle this time.
“Are you coming or not?” Mox calls. Matt hadn’t even realized he’d started walking away, he’d been so focused on Nick.
“Right!” he says. He throws his bag over his shoulder and throws one last wave and smile behind him to Nick, who looks eager himself.
“So, triceratops,” Mox says, barely slowing his stride. Matt can barely keep up. “What’s it about them?”
“Well,” Matt says, playing with his backpack straps. “I really like their horns. And they seem like gentle giants.” Mox snorts. “I said seems like! I want to know for real.”
“We got two on property,” Mox says, and his gazes turns to the ground. “Had four, but there was some sort of fungal infection going around that Bryan couldn’t wrangle in time, so we lost Sophie and Isaac.”
“I’m so sorry,” Matt murmurs. “That must have been so hard.”
Mox nods and sniffs. “Yeah, well. We have Emily and her baby, Zoe still here.”
“There’s a baby triceratops?” Matt does his best not to squeal.
“Yes!” Mox says. Matt hadn’t expected him to light up like that. “Zoe’s so cute. She’s been brought up around me, so we’re pretty sure she sees me as her dad.” Matt feels weird when Mox smiles toward him. “Come on.”
They make their way through a maze of halls until they push out into a greenhouse.
“This is Bryan’s,” Mox explains. “He’s cultivating all sorts of shit out here. Currently piloting an ancient plant that helps heal skin ailments or whatever.” He shrugs. “I don’t know what it is, all I know is it cleared up my eczema.” He leads Matt to a door. “Alright, you sure you wanna see my babies in person? They’re kind of intimidating.”
“I can handle intimidating,” Matt says, holding up a hand. “I once corrected Tati at her own panel. Intimidating is not something that scares me.”
Mox looks him up and down. “Yeah, apparently.” He pushes open the door.
It’s dark, on the other side. It wasn’t dark outside.
“It’s the canopy of the trees,” comes Mox’s voice from behind Matt. “The dinos like it.” Matt fights a shiver.
“Where are they?” Matt breathes. Whispering feels right here. It feels like he’s in church. “Do we wait for them to come to us?”
“Can I?” Mox reaches out and, through the heavily filtered light, Matt sees his hand. He takes it. “Makes it easier. Don’t want to lose you here.”
“Because I’d never come back?” Matt jokes, following Mox’s lead.
“Not exactly,” Mox says. “Emily and Zoe wouldn’t eat you or anything. You’d probably just get stuck in mud.” His tone is still a whisper. “Come on.”
They walk for a while, longer than Matt had expected the space to be in an enclosure, but he figured it makes more sense for the space to be giant. From time to time, huge birds fly overhead. Matt jumps every time. And every time, Mox says, “Don’t worry. They’re not carnivorous. Usually.”
It’s somehow both threatening and comforting.
Matt’s about to say something about how he should have brought rainboots when his breath is taken away.
“There they are,” Mox says reverently.
Matt can’t do anything but stare. He’d seen Land Before Time, We’re Back, The Good Dinosaur. He’s always liked dinosaurs.
But this?
“I’m sorry,” he chokes, digging in his backpack for a tissue to mop his eyes. “I didn’t – I didn’t know…” He trails off.
“Nah, I get it,” Mox says, clapping Matt on the shoulder. “You shower recently?”
Matt blinks at him. “Yes, this morning before we got on the plane.” He sniffs his shirt. “Do I stink?”
“No,” Mox laughs. “No, just making sure you won’t have any residual lotions or soaps on.”
“Does the smell upset them?” Matt asks. He’s suddenly very glad he forewent the hairspray this morning.
“Not the smell, much. But sometimes the chemicals in soaps can aggravate their skin.”
Matt needs a second to process. “Do I – do I get to pet them?”
Mox starts walking forward, hand still holding Matt’s. “Only if you want to.” He pauses. “And only Zoe and Emily. Don’t risk it with any of Hangman’s raptors or my other ones.” He smiles, sympathetic. “Our armored guys don’t like being touched, either. One of the brachiosaurus might be okay with it, though.”
His eyes are locked on Emily’s face. “This is enough,” Matt breathes.
Zoe shuffles behind her mother as they walk up, part of her head poking out curiously.
“She’s adorable,” Matt says. “Also, why do I feel dizzy?”
“This environment is pumped with extra oxygen,” Mox says. “You get used to it. Forgot to say something.”
“That makes sense,” Matt murmurs. His eyes are still locked on Zoe. “Hi, little friend. You’re beautiful.”
Emily turns to Mox, giving him a look that Matt is sure is saying, “Can I trust him? Can I trust you, still?”
Mox walks up and rests a hand on Emily’s nose. “He’s okay, Emmy,” he says quietly. “And if he’s not, I’ll kill him before he gets a hand on either of you.”
“Rude,” Matt says, tossing his hair over his shoulder. “I don’t have a single instance of violence in my record. Recorded or not recorded.”
“I hate that you clarified that,” Mox grumbles. He turns back to Emily. “He’s going to try petting you, okay.” He leans in, forehead pressed to Emily’s scaly skin. Matt feels like he’s in a dream, and it’s only partly the extra oxygen. “Come on over,” Mox says. “If you do anything that even looks like a bad move, I take you down with Tazy here.” He pats his pocket.
Matt blinks. “You named your taser?”
Mox shrugs.
Carefully, slowly, Matt steps toward Emily. Zoe peeks out a little more and walks toward him. Emily nudges her with her nose and pushes Zoe forward. Matt feels blessed, somehow, by Emily, as Zoe ambles toward him. She reminds him of a human toddler, making their way on unsteady feet. “Hi, baby,” Matt coos. “Hi.” He flicks his eyes at Mox, one last confirmation. Mox nods. “Oh, you are too much.” He reaches out. The skin is rougher than he’d imagined, little poky bits beyond the scales.
“They should, technically, have feathers,” Mox says quietly. “But in the DNA process that was one of the genes we couldn’t effectively isolate.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Matt replies. “She’d be beautiful any way.”
Zoe seems not to know her strength very well, and bumps Matt. He stumbles, already apologizing to the fashion gods for the destruction of this shirt, but strong arms catch him before he can fall.
“I got you,” Mox says, chuckling as he rights Matt. “She does that, sometimes. Mom’ll teach her more as she gets older.”
Zoe tilts her head, like a scolded puppy.
“No, no,” Matt says, reaching out to pet between Zoe’s eyes. “Nothing wrong. You’re okay. It was probably my fault, anyway.”
“Technically, being here is your fault,” Mox offers.
“Not helping,” Matt says. But his smile feels permanent.
He doesn’t know how long they’re in this enclosure. Matt feels transcendent, beyond human, as he and Zoe have their moment. He gets to pet Emily, but Zoe keeps coming back to him and he doesn’t want to leave.
“Hey, I mentioned this earlier,” Mox says, “but we really should be on the lookout for a storm.”
“We’re fine,” Matt dismisses. “They’d be in their den or whatever if they really thought something was up, right?”
Mox points to a nest-like structure a few feet away from them. “They basically are,” he explains. “Usually, when they hear me, they stumble on out to say hi. Today we had to search for them.” He makes a weird face. “Not a great sign.”
“There was nothing in the weather forecast,” Matt says, patting his pockets. “Oh, right. No phone out here.”
“No phone,” Mox confirms. “I mean, I got the sat phone, but that’s more for major emergencies than, like. Rain.”
“Well, it said 15% chance of storms,” Matt says. “Right before we got on the plane to get here. That’s unlikely, right?”
“Not when the animals are saying otherwise.” He fidgets and yanks the sleeve of his jacket over his hands. “We should probably head back soon. We got a bit of a walk.” He nods to Emily, who’s already started making her way to the den. “And I trust her over an app any day.”
Matt allows himself a few more moments with Zoe, pressing his forehead to her skin. “You are the coolest and most beautiful thing I’ve ever gotten to meet,” he tells her. “You and your mom.” He kisses her quickly on the side of her head.
“You’re a sap,” Mox says, but he walks over and kisses Emily and then Zoe, right between their eyes, so Matt thinks it’s a compliment.
Matt guesses they’re about halfway back to the Center when a crack of thunder sounds so loudly he jumps.
“Damn it,” Mox says. He looks around quickly – Matt can practically hear the gears working – then settles on Matt. “You better do cardio, pretty boy, because we gotta run.”
Before Matt can reply, Mox takes off with his hand, pulling him along. Mud kicks up into his shoes.
“Why are we running?” Matt hisses at him. “It’s not even –”
Another crack of thunder, and the sky unleashes its fury.
“Damn it,” Mox says. The shirt clings tightly to his skin as it gets soaked, and Matt is momentarily distracted. “Alright. Change of plans.”
“Oh, now we’re not running?” Matt yells through the rain.
“You get more wet if you run,” Mox explains. “Come on. I got a place we can lay low until it lightens up.”
It’s a short walk, no more than a few minutes, before they come across a little building. Technically a house, Matt assumes, but it looks to be around the size of two or three of the apartment pods.
“What’s this doing out here?”
“Being a bunker,” Mox replies. He reaches for the door, and then there’s another crack of thunder and a strange sizzling noise. “Oh, Jesus Christ McFuck.”
“What?” Matt asks as Mox yanks him into the door. “What was that noise?”
“That,” Mox says, grumbling, “was lightning hitting the defensive barriers between each of the dinosaur exhibits.” He scrubs his face with his hand, water everywhere. “There’s still the physical ones, so everybody should be safe and contained, but the power’s out across the campus.” He groans, hitting his head against the wall. “I told Tony about this. I told him this was the wrong weekend for visitors.” He hits his fist on the door. “Sorry. Nothing against you, but he’s kind of all about the money and didn’t…think.”
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Matt mutters.
Mox pulls out the sat phone and starts a quiet, harried conversation with Claudio.
“Yeah, I got the pretty one,” Mox says, and Matt shouldn’t feel complimented, but he does. “You – you what?! No, I understand – yeah, that doesn’t surprise me.” Mox sighs and looks at Matt. “Yeah, I’ll keep an eye out. But it’s not safe – exactly. Maybe send Page out to fix the electrical. No, Yuta’s gonna be busy.” Mox sighs. “Alright. I’ll let Matt know.”
He hangs up, or whatever it is when you disconnect a sat phone, and looks at Matt. “You want the good news or the bad news or the worse news?”
“Worse news,” Matt says. “Always go in reverse order of badness, duh.”
Mox rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. Worse, we’re stuck here until we can get somebody out to get the power back on. Not safe for any of us, other than Page and Yuta, to go out when we don’t know which dinosaurs have breached containment.”
“Yeah, that’s bad,” Matt says. He’s thinking of Breeze, at home, without Claudio, preparing for their new baby. And then he remembers the YouTube event on Tuesday that he spent $13,000 per ticket to go to. “That’s really bad.”
“Bad is that your brother did something stupid and fell into an enclosure.”
Matt’s blood goes cold. “No.”
“Okay, good news!” Mox says, hands out in front of him. “No, don’t panic. It’s the experimental enclosure.”
“Experimental?!” Matt shrieks. “How is that good?!”
“Because – okay, they’re human hybrids. They’re, like, people. He’s fine.”
“He’s fine?!” Matt yells. “Are they dangerous? Will they hurt him?”
Mox shakes his head. “One of them will probably try to talk his ear off about medieval architecture, but that’s the worst of it.”
“I need to sit down,” Matt says.
Mox guides him to the couch. Matt falls more than sits, and he feels the couch bend beside him as Mox joins him. “I promise,” Mox says, and he tilts Matt’s chin toward him. “Hey, look at me. You’re going to be okay, he’s going to be okay. Worst case scenario he’s cold for a few hours while he waits. Best case scenario he gets, like, a home cooked meal and a master’s level lecture about history.” His smile is oddly comforting. “It’s gonna be okay, Matt. I swear it.”
Matt’s got a lot of other questions. Kenny and Page, for one. Nick and his safety. “You promise?” he whispers.
“I promise,” Mox says. “There are also safety holds everywhere on campus for things like that. Your brother’s got half a brain, he’ll find a safe space to hold out with a seat and emergency rations.”
Matt quirks a lip. “I thought you said ‘we barely have supplies for staff and now we have to take care of these three idiots’.”
Mox sighs. “Well, I may have exaggerated or whatever.” He sighs. “Look, everybody’s going to be fine. It’s just super inconvenient. And kind of uncomfortable.” He shifts in his wet clothing. “Let me make some coffee or something.”
Matt nods and follows Mox to the tiny kitchen. There’s a mini fridge, microwave, Keurig style coffee maker. “Coffee would be great.”
He’s quiet as he waits for the coffee to brew, murmuring a thank you to Mox as he hands him the cup. He glances out the window from time to time, but it’s still pouring buckets outside.
“Don’t stress,” Mox says, sipping his own cup. Matt turns to him. It really is a tight shirt. Matt can see defined muscle and strength under the soaked material. “This place can handle us for a week if we had to.”
Matt licks his lips. “It can,” he says. “Are we thinking that’s our timeline?” He doesn’t turn on the charm, exactly. But he does think about how sweet Mox was with the dinosaurs. How easily he took Matt’s hand.
Mox shakes his head, leaning back against the counter. “Shouldn’t be trapped here that long though.”
“Oh no,” Matt says. If he’s in it, he might as well make the most of it. “We’re trapped in here.” He gazes around the bunker. Bed, little kitchen. They could kill plenty of time here. “Whatever could we do in this bunker safe from danger with a bed.” He trails his fingers along the countertop. Lightning flashes, followed by a loud clap of thunder. “Got some fun mood lighting too.”
“We’re in a bunker because of a dinosaur related weather emergency and you’re horny?” Mox looks at him, aghast.
Matt smiles. “What? You aren’t?”
“I am,” Mox says, and Matt likes the look of that smile. “But I know it’s weird to get turned on by danger and dinosaurs.”
“You’re turned on by dinosaurs,” Matt says. He steps closer to Mox, grinning up at him. “I’m turned on by the danger.”
“Not turned on by dinosaurs.” Mox reaches out and grabs Matt by the waist and yanks him in. “You are kinda hot, though.”
“Kind of?” Matt asks. “Don’t be an ass.”
Mox shrugs. “I like the bitchy kind. What can I say?”
“Rude,” Matt grumbles, but he rises on his toes to kiss Mox. It takes a second for Mox to lean into it, but when he does…
Matt makes a weird little squeak as Mox’s hands slide down to his thighs. He jumps, wrapping his legs around Mox’s waist. They don’t break the kiss.
Mox is insistent, demanding as he kisses, and it feels somehow, just a little bit, like an insult. Matt pulls back and Mox bites down his neck.
“You know,” Matt muses, “it kind of feels like you’re hate kissing me.”
“I am hate kissing you,” Mox murmurs against Matt’s skin. “You’re fucking annoying and ruined a perfectly normal day at work.”
“I did not!” Matt says, and he grins as Mox throws him on the bed. “It’s not my fault there was a freak lightning storm.”
“You and your stupid money convinced Tony to keep the main buildings open during the storm, so, yeah, it’s your fault.” Mox leans back and pulls off his shirt.
“I know you’re kind of insulting me,” Matt says, “but I don’t care that much because you’re really hot.”
Mox grins. “Yeah? Got not much here to do but work out and chill with the boys, you know?”
“The boys? Your coworkers?”
Mox shrugs. “And the dinosaurs.”
Matt raises an eyebrow. “You call the dinosaurs your boys? At least two of them are girls.”
“You’re turned on when we’re running from literal monsters,” Mox replies. He grabs Matt’s legs and yanks them. “You don’t get to be judgmental.”
“I’m not!” Matt says. “Just asking.” He flutters his eyelashes and Mox rolls his eyes.
“Don’t try that shit on me,” Mox says. He leans down and kisses Matt enough to get him breathless. “The dinos try that shit. Doesn’t work.”
“The dinosaurs try to seduce you?”
“Actually? A few of them, sometimes.” Mox frowns. “Some of Tony’s experiments are…interesting.”
Matt decides that, for his own safety, asking further questions is a stupid idea. He wraps his legs more tightly around Mox’s waist and yanks him in again. Mox rips open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere.
“That was a Dolce!” Matt shrieks. He watches some of the buttons skitter across the floor. “And I got it discounted!”
Mox shrugs. “Oh no. I broke your shirt. I’m sure a rich pretty boy like you can afford a new one.”
“That,” Matt says, “is not the point.”
Mox doesn’t retort, just stares. “Fuckin’ Christ,” he mutters. “Thought you were just a pretty boy.” He pushes the shirt off of Matt’s arms. “Don’t cover these. Fuck.”
Matt allows himself to feel smug. “Thanks. I work out.”
“I can tell.”
Matt watches as Mox kisses a line down Matt’s exposed chest, down his stomach. “You got no hair on, like, your whole body,” Mox mumbles. “That feels weird.”
“I wax,” Matt says, fighting the urge to grab Mox’s shoulders and push him all the way down. “It looks better on the magazine covers.”
“You never stop, do you?” Mox gets to his belt. “Okay?”
Matt nods, biting his lip. “Um, out of curiosity. Does this place have…stuff?”
Mox raises an eyebrow. “Stuff?”
“Condoms. Lube.” He glances around. “It’s not very homey, is what I’m saying.”
“God, you really are a bitch.” Mox pulls away. “This is where I live. Part time, anyway.”
Matt blinks at him. “You – this is your house?”
“Part time house!” Mox corrects. “When we got a sick dino or something, I stay here. Made it sort of my place, you know?”
“You do a sleepover when the dinosaurs are sick?” Matt asks. “That’s adorable.”
“They’re kind of like my kids.” He shrugs, and the smile is almost more than Matt can take. “Raised most of them since babies. Rexha likes Yuta best, of course, but the rest of the big ones treat me like a dad.” He grins. Matt knows it – Zoe and Emily came out of their dens for him, against their instincts. “Fuckin’ Page got all the cool carnivores, though. The raptors practically treat him like a mother. It’s why we call him Hangman.”
No matter how many times Matt processes it, the words don’t make sense. “Sorry, what?”
“He hangs out with the dinosaurs more than us,” Mox explains, “and he does these weird gymnastics bullshit things when we can’t get to a dinosaur.” He shakes his head. “Hung from the branch of a tree for, like, 24 straight hours to get one of our Brachiosaurus’ mamas away from her babies so we could give the baby medication.”
“He’s literally a Hang man,” Matt says. “I thought he, like, killed people or something.”
“Nah, he couldn’t,” Mox says. “Guy’s a big softie.”
Based on their first interaction, Matt has reason to doubt that. But he decides to er on the side of the expert. “So, back to the detail, do you have…supplies?” Matt pauses.
“Of course I have supplies,” Mox says. “What do you think I am, some sort of prude?”
“I – no!” Matt says. He fights the urge to stomp his foot. “Just – wanted to make sure you’re actually into dudes and not just, like, going for the first fancy thing on the buffet line.”
Mox raises an eyebrow. “Buffet line?”
“I don’t know!” Matt yells. “Look, I usually don’t get this far, okay? People get me back to their places and suddenly it’s, ‘oh, can I film it,’ or, ‘can I text my friend to tell them I’m about to fuck you,’ or, worse, they try to demand it.” He huffs. “Whatever. Never mind.”
“Whoa,” Mox says. “Are – are you saying people try to make you do sex tapes or whatever?”
Matt blows his hair out of his eyes. “Some people,” he says, forcing his voice steady, “enjoy being part of the spectacle, and forget I’m a person.”
“I don’t give a shit about the spectacle, if that helps,” Mox says. He steps toward Matt quietly, carefully, like he did when approaching Zoe. “I didn’t even know you were famous until Claudio told me about your videos.”
“Did you want to watch any when you found out I’m famous?” Matt doesn’t know why he’s fighting this. Maybe getting burned so much in the past did more damage than he’d thought.
“Nah,” Mox says, smiling. “I got better things to do than watch prima donnas talk about their clothes on the internet.” He’s in front of Matt now, eyes sparkling.
“Better things to do?” Matt asks.
“Yeah, usually that’s taking care of dinosaurs, but right now.” He’s staring pretty blatantly at Matt’s chest and arms. “I know something I’d like to do.”
“Then do it.”
Mox shoots out an arm and pulls Matt in by the waist, kissing the breath out of him. Matt pulls Mox on top of him. The weight is amazing. He hasn’t had this since Prince, or Finn he supposes now, hasn’t felt like it was safe for him to relax.
He feels safe.
“You okay?” Mox asks, pulling away. “You got a little still.”
Matt nods. “Just – feeling the moment, I guess.” He presses his lips together before he gets the courage to speak. “I haven’t, I guess, wanted to just because I wanted to in a long time.”
“Jesus,” Mox breathes. “It’s really annoying how, like, real you are, underneath it all. Underneath the…” He trails off and points to what used to be Matt’s shirt on the ground. “You know.” He smiles. “I promise, only what you want, okay? You say the word, do anything, and I’ll stop to check in.”
“Okay,” Matt says. And he believes it.
Mox is as gentle as he’d promised as he gets his shirt off. He leans down to kiss Matt, smelling like rainwater and the outdoors. Matt goes for the buttons of Mox’s jeans, hesitant, but the moan and increasingly fevered kisses tell Matt it’s the right decision. Once the jeans are down Mox’s hips, Matt can’t get his hands away from Mox’s strong chest. He envisions Mox hauling stuff around outside, those muscles at work.
“I – okay,” Matt says. “Don’t want to – in me – now.”
Mox pulls back, grinning. “Wanna try an entire sentence there?”
“Get in me,” Matt says firmly. “You and your stupid biceps and hot weird dinosaur love and whatever. Come on.”
Mox grins. “I like this. You can be a bitch with a purpose.”
“I – shut up!” Matt sits up and catches Mox’s lips, trying to bite some insistence into it. Mox wraps a big hand around his back, holding him close, rolling his hips a little, driving Matt out of his mind.
“Please,” Matt pants, “Mox, please.”
Mox gets Matt completely naked and pulls his own pants off.
“Pretty.”
“What?”
“Your dick,” Matt says, because he’s a gentleman and he can be nice when he wants to be. “It’s pretty.”
“You’re fuckin’ weird, you know that?” He leans in and kisses Matt. It’s got to be something with the adrenaline, because Matt could almost come from this. Their cocks slide against each other, the tiniest bit of friction, and Matt is already obsessed. “Roll over. I’m gonna get you nice and ready.”
Matt whimpers. “Okay.” He rolls to his stomach and arches his back. “Good?”
“Jesus,” Mox says, palming Matt’s ass. He leans over to a drawer beside Matt and pulls out a bottle. “Talk about pretty.”
Matt throws a look over his shoulder. “Thanks. I know that.”
“I think you’re a little hotter when you’re not talking,” Mox says. “Let me look at you without the commentary.”
Matt has a litany of responses to say back, and it was definitely something grating and witty and cute, but instead Mox’s slick fingers are tracing around his hole and he forgets that words were ever a thing in the first place. In their stead, he moans.
“Fuck,” Mox sighs. “Fuck. Yeah, take it like that.”
Mox wasn’t kidding when he said gentle. It feels – nice. Matt’s used to this feeling a little rushed, used to people so into the idea of getting in him that they don’t worry about this part. But Mox is speaking to him, cute little phrases of encouragement, as he crooks his fingers. It’s good. Matt didn’t know this part could be good.
“I – there,” Matt pants. “Oh, you’re good at this.”
“Yeah?” Mox chuckles. “Good to know. I’m doing my best.”
Matt hums, rolling back. “You can now, just letting you know.”
“You sure?” Mox asks. “You’re still pretty, like. Tight.”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
“Not if it’s gonna hurt you or anything.”
Matt blinks. “That’s kind of the point, right?”
“For – what?” Mox pauses. “Not really. Only if you like that sort of thing.”
Matt shrugs and looks over his shoulder. “I mean, I guess I do.”
“You guess?” Mox asks. “You guess you like it rough?"
Matt turns around to see Mox staring at him, like there's an answer he can give. He doesn't really know if he's ever had the alternative.
Mox groans. "Fine. I’m making this cute or whatever. You’re going to get fucked all nice and pretty, see if you like that, too.”
Mox keeps moving his fingers, an eternity, and Matt feels ready, needy. It's never felt this drawn out, this lingering. “Please?” he asks. “Please, now?”
“Alright, baby, not gonna make you beg anymore.” There’s a new slick sound, something Matt can only imagine the source of. “You good?”
“So good,” Matt breathes. Truly, this is not how he expected the weekend, let alone the afternoon, to go. He expected dinosaurs, high level camping arrangements, maybe some fun games with Kenny and Nick.
He didn’t expect to find actually interesting people.
And he didn’t, as he realizes, pressing his face into the pillow with delight, expect to feel the blunt head of a pretty cock up against his hole.
“You ready?”
“Please,” Matt says. “Come on, you’re being really precious about this.”
“Yeah? Well, based on the everything you’ve said, you need some precious.” His hands smooth on Matt’s hips. “You like it this way?”
“Think I’ve only really done it this way, unless I was in a bar or something,” Matt says. “Usually it’s standing up, somebody’s got some molly in them or something.” He’s never admitted to anyone else that it’s usually him. It goes against their clean, precious image. But it’s the only way he usually can let loose.
“Fucking – flip over.” Mox manhandles Matt onto his back. “Nobody’s ever, like, fucked you like they mean it?”
Matt blinks. “Like they want me? They always do me like that.”
Mox sighs. “No. Like they mean it, like they want you, not the whole…” He trails off waving his hand. “I don’t know. Spectacle.”
“I don’t really know anyone outside of the spectacle, I guess,” Matt whispers.
“Well, good thing I don’t give a shit about the internet.” He slides a hand down Matt’s thigh. “How flexible are you?”
“Very,” Matt says. “Can’t get these muscles without doing the stretching after.”
“Even when you’re being cute, you’re fucking annoying.” Mox pushes his leg up and to the side. “That okay?”
Matt nods, too fast for it to be cool or chill. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
Mox has his eyes locked on Matt’s as he pushes in, achingly slowly, like he’s waiting for Matt to tell him to stop. He’s never told anybody to stop. He’s never wanted them to.
But, right now, he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anyone to go as much as he wants Mox to right now.
“You feel incredible,” Mox breathes. “Fuck. I can’t believe somebody so goddamned annoying is also so charming.”
Matt shrugs. “You sound like some of my YouTube commenters.”
“I’m gonna fuck you until you stop talking about your stupid job,” Mox says, tilting his hips enough for Matt to really feel it. “That sound good? You able to shut up?”
Matt nods. “I think so, but you’re going to have to work at it. I’m kind of always thinking about work.”
“That a challenge?” Mox asks, grinning.
“Perhaps.”
Mox steps to the challenge and boy is it good. Matt has to flail one arm up to grab Mox’s bicep and the other down to fist in the sheets. It’s rocking more than pushing, like Mox is trying to do something specific. It’s working – the head of his cock keeps pushing against his prostate. His vision keeps blurring.
“Oh, my god,” Matt says. “Right – there.”
“Yeah?” Mox chuckles. “Thought you might like that.”
Matt nods frantically. He forgets how to do anything else.
Mox starts fucking him slow, quiet. He’s not a talker, Matt realizes. Mox is focused on Matt’s face, on his body. It’s intense, every time Matt opens his eyes, to feel Mox’s blue gaze on him.
“There you go,” Mox says, “just enjoy it.”
Matt nods. He can’t do anything else.
He’s floating, a little, for how long he doesn’t know, as he settles into the sensation and the smells and the Mox of it all.
“You okay?” Mox asks. “You’re real quiet.”
“Just – it’s…” Matt sighs. “It’s never gone this long before. This is nice.” He opens his eyes to see Mox looking at him, almost sad.
“You gotta have higher standards, baby.”
And Matt won’t let the pet name affect him. He won’t. The whine is from something else, of course.
He looks back at Mox to see him lick up his hand. “Can I?”
Matt nods frantically. Suddenly, the need to come has superseded everything else in his mind. “Yes,” he whispers.
He touches Matt gently, carefully, matching his hand with his hips. Matt lets out a moan from something so deeply inside of him that Matt couldn’t find it if he’d tried, and he comes with such focused force that he feels parts of himself shift and change.
“God fuckin’ damn it,” Mox growls, and Matt watches his face shift as he comes, hips flush with Matt’s. “You look fuckin’ good, baby.”
Matt shivers. He can’t hold it back this time. “Thank you,” he whispers.
“Fucking – no,” Mox says, and his smile is both exasperated and intrigued. “Thank you, pretty boy.” He shifts his hips to slide out of Matt. Matt expects to be left alone, expects for things to shift. But, instead, Mox leans down to kiss him, almost lazy. He rolls to the side and pulls Matt on top of him. “You okay?”
Matt nods, resting a hand on Mox’s chest. “I’m great,” he says. He wiggles. “A little sticky, though.” He looks up at Mox. “Not cold. Anymore.”
“Yeah, I can imagine.” Mox’s grin is wide and honest. “Want some clothes?”
Matt nods. “And a shower? I suppose without electricity, water’s out of the question.”
“I got a generator for the place,” Mox says. “I try to be careful with it, since the dinosaurs don’t like the sound, but they should all be in their dens right now to hide from the storm.” He frowns. “Except for, you know.”
“Right,” Matt says. “Any that may have gotten out.”
Mox smiles. “Actually,” he says, “I have an idea.”
Within minutes, there’s a shower running. “It’ll be cold, since it’s rain water funneled in, but it should do the job.” He winks at Matt.
“Maybe you can warm me up,” Matt says. “Again, I mean.”
“We should actually try and see how the rain’s letting up.” Mox says. “When you’re done in the shower, I’ll give you some clothes to change into.” He looks Matt up and down. “Pants’ll be long, but the shirts should fit you and your giant arms.”
Matt grins. “Yeah, okay.” He feels comfortable. Cozy.
The word safe comes back to mind, and he’s not sure why he feels safe with a stranger. But he does.
He should panic, at least a little. Nick is god knew where, Kenny was with a man who looked willing and able to kill him, and they have no power to speak of. They could be trapped here. For a while.
But Matt is comfortable, and Mox is honest and kind if not nice, and Matt trusts him.
~
Mini Playlist: Chapter 1
Animal - Kesha
Waste it on Me - Steve Aoki feat. BTS
Lightning in a Bottle - The Summer Set
Clean - Pale Waves
#Jurassic Park AU#JPAU#wtf i like wrestling now???#in which sara writes#Help I have made a terrible mistake#I don't even#i have no excuse ofr this one
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i love spending hours writing only to read it back the next day, cringe, and then delete the whole thing
#this is what i call progress#coming to terms with how awful i am then erasing it from existence before it gets worse#made the terrible mistake last night reading some very opinionated persons comments on the way ppl write and well#they were trying to make it sound like helpful criticism but tbh it only sounded l like hate#kind of like ‘omg ppl who do ‘X’ are just so bad’#anyway a lot of what they said ended up being incredibly discouraging#like if you don’t write like this then you’re bad kind of thing#the mental torture i put myself through i swear#for years i have wanted nothing more than to actually do something meaningful with myself#even if that means writing or whatever#cause god knows i’ll never be able to draw#but i will never get over this hurdle it seems#i am only ranting so pls ignore#i'm having one of Those days today#just need to get over myself thats all
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george could have a backbone and acknowledge his actions and apologise and not try to get out of it and then i’d see some redeem-ability for him
i’ll never be able to fully hate them but fandom won’t forgive and i can’t blame them at all. best case scenario they accept the death of “fandom” and continue yt for casual fans
yep my thoughts exactly. i find it very hard to see ANYONE as irredeemable, although i do think people who are abusive don't deserve audiences where they have access to vulnerable fans
#at the moment i find it hard to condemn drm or sap#with everything out in the open it still feels like their worst crimes r being grgs friends#to me. it seems like he made a terrible terrible mistake#and theres nothign he can do to fix it except improve himself and do all he can to help the women he affected#it really does come down to him owning up to it and consciously changing#and before i get called a hypocrite#id say the same thing about ccs like wilbur- they can improve#but that doesnt mean they should have an#audience#idk im still trying to sort out all my thoughts honestly#open to discussion just pls be kind this is a sensitive subject for me#cw abuse#cq.asks
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Headed quickly for a downward spiral and feeling the urge to keep it going (who doesn’t love to be self-destructive every once in awhile?) so any recommendations for angsty fics/movies/etc are appreciated rn.
Also side note it’s hard for me to deal with this garbage when I no longer cope in the same ways that I did years ago. So when I’m in my feels about old shit from my past but I can’t handle it how I used to, I feel a bit trapped with absolutely no where to go.
K enough of my emotional baggage 🙃
#help me be more of a sad bitch#angst is basically my middle name#is this ptsd? I have no idea#I made a terrible mistake today and did not think it would turn out like it has#I have zero coping mechanisms at this point in my life 😅
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Can I just for a minute complain as someone dyslexic about how when I was young everyone would always be like "well look up the spelling in the dictionary"?
Just now, I go to type a word and I spell it something like "erevicobly", which is obviously wrong, but... no idea
Well, I throw it in the search engine* and find out it's irrevocably (didn't spell it right there either, but got it close enough spellcheck could fix it)
Now you might notice something here, which is if I'd looked it up in the dictionary, I wouldn't have found it, no matter how long and hard I searched, because I'd be looking under "er" not "ir"
So do you see why that advice made me mad as hell as a kid, and I stand by my feelings today?
*literally one of the few ways search engines are a blessing is being a really great way to find spellings
#like my typing is great with very few mistakes; but my spelling while mostly alright these days isn't great#cause like... literal diagnosed dyslexia since I was a tiny kid#and let me tell you; no matter the reason; people will shit on you so much for poor spelling (no matter the age too)#fucker; we speak english; everything you said was a lie#there's not (consistent) rhyme or reason to it; and sounding it out is terrible advice cause we've all got fucking accents#and sometimes even if you don't the word is fucking worcestershire and you're fucked#actually gets me a bit heated how many good teachers I had who still acted like this#I actually have many strong opinions on linguistics and teaching despite not being a linguist or a teacher#give me descriptivism or give me death#prescriptivism can burn in hell where it belongs#and one thing that technology has 100% made better (at least for me as a dyslexic adult) is being able to spell well and quickly#it's an aid and an accommodation to me; we just don't look at it like that#I literally can't even spell accommodation; but you get to see the right word there#I have a vast vocabulary... I just can't fucking spell half of it#so prespellcheck you just kind of... had my writing look a lot worse and be a lot harder to parse#the main thing that helped with my spelling wasn't school or anything... it was everquest#you want to be able to type to people and be understood; there's no spellscheck or anything... you work to get it right quickly#mmos are a great way to teach typing if you don't have voice chat#similarly it's actually thanks to tumblr that I'm a quick typist; zero formal training with it and sucked through my teens#was a quick chicken scratch typist... pretty fast; but I pecked#through typing a lot of messages and asks to people on here and wanting to do it quickly I stumbled on something pretty...#close to what I think they teach; though I'm pretty sure there's gotta be some differences#it's nothing formal for one thing; it's all muscle memory; the fingers go where they go#but I can type pretty fast and accurately with my eyes closed#and it's just cause... I wanted to say things to people and say it quickly#eh... I hope I kill myself soon#... it seems out of nowhere; but that's just how my brain works; this is stream of consciousness more or less so... figured I'd leave it#anyway... there whatever this is... is#mm tag so i can find things later
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...
#yelled at my mom today because I got so tired of the way she's been treating me#and it was the absolute worst#and I cried like a baby#I don't mean to say she's the most terrible mom in the world or anything like that (she's not the best but she certainly isn't the worst)#but it's just not fair that I have to help her with everything while my brother doesn't have to do anything#and when I come back from almost a week long trip she doesn't even ask me how it was or even welcome me home#she's just wondering who's gonna do her shopping for her#I don't tell people how I feel...#I bottle it up and let it fester until I explode#and today I exploded#but in the end she just told me to calm down and gave me a hug and I cried and cried and cried#and I haven't been able to stop all day#I don't want to be on the outs with my mom#I love her and I want to be there for her and help her now that she's getting older and her health is deteriorating#but I just can't be at her beck and call 24/7#and I don't want to be upset or angry with her when I don't know how long she's got left#I'm not gonna make the same mistake I made with my dad#sorry for the rant#already feeling better and have almost stopped crying#just have to stop listening to sad songs 🤣
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vent post. do not read the tags if you don’t want to see personal shit and sentences that make no sense
#qnnekfkfkwkenjddkdjekdjdjskwjdjdjwkskjddjsjwjkdjdjskkskdkdkskskskskskskskksk#ajsjskkdkdksk#ajwkkdkxkdkaksjfjksisidkcjeisjxjdiwijdjdjd#anwkdkkxkxkakwkskkckdkaiskdkdksksjsjsjjsdjdj#having one of those days where i feel like everyone hates me/will hate me#like i have a good reason but i think i’m catastrophizing#obviously not going to reveal the reason on here#but yeah i just feel like a shit human#and most days i know i’ve become a better person but today i just feel like i’m a horrible person#and my anxiety is through the roof#i just hate feeling like this bc i’ve put effort into not being a terrible person#and i know that i’m not one#but every mistake i’ve made is just rising to the surface#i just feel this guilt#and i also feel guilt over ghosting that one person. like we weren’t close and we just talked about fandom shit but#i feel like they depended on me and i let them down#and i can’t apologize bc it’s been too long and i just hate myself for it#i really want to cry rn but i can’t because i can never fucking get myself to cry#and that sucks bc crying helps a lot#i feel like i’m this close to having a panic attack but i’m probably just exaggerating#idfk i exaggerate everything#do you ever just want to scream like i’d really like to scream rn
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...
#and so i came back here. because in here i can find joy and sorrow. laugh a little and cry a lot because someone made a post i resonate with#it makes me feels understood. a private and intimate place that is also shared at the same time. and strangely; like a home#but i came back without knowing who i am. I see someone else in the mirror. Is that a monster? a sinner? a human? a normal man?#after all that effort leaving depression and self hate from my adolescence behind. from being proud of myself for being different to all me#was all a lie? how could i do such awful and terrible thing to the person i swore to protect? the person i love the most#i said i would never do that kind of unforgivable act. And here i am. Alive after the event. I want to drop dead. To dissapear from here.#But at the same time i want to fix what i did. in order to do that i need to heal. to change. be happy. to live. and i hate it#how can i do all of that with the weight of guilt crushing me and telling me i killed myself that day? i am just a shell of who i was#how to change what i thought was the best version of me? i was supposed to be different no harmful and kind man!!!#i already asked for help. and they told me it was not all my fault. But i still think it is. There is no way it can be 50/50#physical actions are only responsibility of the ones who made it. circumstances are not a reason to diminish them guilt#a confused person is not deserving of any part of the guilt. they do not have control over themselves. but the other ones sure have it#yes. they might have started and added little physical actions. but i refused and it never came to completion. which is the opposite of min#physical trauma can spawn emotional and mental trauma as well. is way more bad and deep that the emotional one i might have#i want to kill that trash in front of the mirror. why are you still living bitch? just to be a parasite and hurt people on the go?#to make irreversible mistakes that affects every person around you? your decisions never end well. why do not you just give up already?#and yet here i am. trying to not isolate myself thanks to the safe place i found here. I can write what is on my mind. gives me some relief#because the only person i talked everyday is the same one i hurted as i never thought i would in my life#Hope i can found redemption one day. I hope they can heal and be happy soon and forever.#I am going to always be worry about them (i am sure of that) but i wish nothing but the best for them. I want nothing to hurt them again.#They never deserved the trauma and guilt. They suffered more than enough way before i step in and fucked up everything.#Life. if you can hear me. Please give them recovery. happyness. health and lots of love. They deserve it. Please#They did nothing wrong! Take them pain away and put it in me. I will stay alive just for that if is neccesary#I wanted to kill myself way long ago. but i still here. I might want to kill myself again. but i still will be here.#Just leave them be happy. That is what i really want
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THE TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION HAVE ISSUED AN APOLOGY AND A RE-INVITATION. HERE IS MY STATEMENT
hello buckaroos. the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION have issued a formal statement and apology which you can read at the attached link.
while i find the language used to discuss what was done a little unsatisfying, i would like to start by saying i appreciate anyone taking steps to prove love is real and make things right. the genuine feeling of ‘realizing you have made a mistake and hurt someone else’ is a terrible one, and i have so much empathy for this group as they reckon with their choices causing harm. i appreciate their apology.
i also think more good than bad has come from this situation. i am so thankful this happened to me (someone with a large social media presence) and not a smaller buckaroo author without the means to stand up for themselves. i think the next time someone comes to the TXLA with an accommodation need, they will hopefully be taken more seriously
lets trot down to business about specifics now. the TXLA has re-invited chuck to the original panel and even offered to take a moment at the top of the panel to talk about what happened. this is very kind of them and i will say THANK YOU.
unfortunately i will also have to decline.
the fact that it took this much effort, social media backlash, and discussion to let me simply EXIST PHYSICALLY in a way that is authentic to myself is not a good sign. if this organization immediately questions an authors chosen presentation in this manner, i cannot imagine what my other accommodations would be met with.
sometimes i am at an event and i very quickly need extra space to breathe. sometimes i am at an event and i need special guides to help me along from place to place. these are not ‘big asks’ and every other conference has gladly provided them, but if the TXLA had this kind of initial reaction to my physical appearance, i cannot imagine them readily helping with my other needs without ‘proof’.
this is clearly not a safe place to trot for those who require additional accommodations. regardless of any apology, their ACTIONS have shown that people who appear unusual or unique are not welcome at this event on a subconscious level. i believe the TXLA have some serious inner work to do beyond this apology, and i believe this inner work will involve actions more than words.
but even more importantly i would like to make this very important point: IT DOES NOT MATTER IF MY MASK IS A DISABILITY AID OR NOT. i appreciate the way this discussion has allowed us to trot out some deep talks on autism and proved love in this way, but i think there is a much more important point at hand.
regardless of WHAT someone looks like, it is not the job of an event or conference to pick apart WHY. physical presentation can be a part of someones neurodivergence, or gender, or sexuality, but i can also just exist as a nebulous undefined part of their inner self. it can be a piece they are not ready to openly discuss yet. the guests at TXLA are authors (aka ARTISTS) and the idea that a conference dedicated to an ART is going to deny people with unique and unusual presentations for ANY reason is absurd. since when are we applying a ‘dress code’ to our artists?
without knowing it, i personally believe there is an element of the ‘good queer, bad queer’ phenomenon going on here. there is a push to say ‘LOOK we accept these marginalized groups and cultures’ but behind the scenes that means ‘we accept these marginalized groups and cultures who are quiet and speak in turn and wear the metaphorical suit and tie’. it is easy to show diversity when you only take on the voices that arent too ‘strange’.
to prove my point i ask you this: do you think orville peck would have FOR ONE SECOND been asked to perform at the texas library association event without his mask?
so with that i say ‘very sincerely, thank you, but i will have to decline the re-invitation. maybe next year’
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─ you're the sunflower ੈ✩‧₊˚
✶ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader
✶ synopsis: everyone on the team loves you, expect miguel who seems to hate you more than anyone.
✶ warnings: angst!! major angst. sunshine!reader x grumpy!miguel. reader is nicknamed sunflower, mentions of death.
✶ notes: there's one spanish sentence in this, I'm not good with spanish so if I've made a mistake please tell me so i can fix it! part two is already up!!!
Everyone on the team loved you from the moment you joined, everyone, except Miguel.
You knew Miguel was cold towards everyone, but he was extra cold with you. Maybe it was because of how different your personalities were.
You were the embodiment of sunshine, always positive in any situation, putting others before yourself. Hence why everyone calls you sunflower, it fits perfectly, Miles was proud of coming up with it.
Miguel on the other hand was cold and distant but that didn't stop you from trying to get him to open up. You'd try to have simple conversations with him but nothing, all you would receive in reply was an eye roll or a slight grunt, but you wouldn't give up that easily.
Like today, you got him some coffee.
"Morning, boss. Got you some coffee." You said in your usual cheerful tone.
"Why?" He raised his eyebrows, looking down at you suspiciously. That's the most he's said to you all week.
"Because I wanted to." You shrugged, placing it down on his desk.
He steped down walking towards his desk, you couldn't help but stare at him, unfortunately for you, everything about him was so attractive, it's such a shame he hated you.
"This isn't how I like my coffee."
"Huh?" You snapped out of your daydream at the sound of his voice.
"The coffee, it tastes terrible. Get it from another place next time."
"Well, actually I made it-" But he had already walked away from you not listening to a word you said. "Alright, never mind, I'll just go back to work." You mumbled hurt by his words.
"Wait, hold on." You looked up, thinking, maybe he'll say something nice after all.
"Yeah?"
"Take the coffee with you, I won't be drinking it."
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
"Girl, why do you look so sad? Did Miguel do something again?" Jess asked with a frown, she did not like seeing you sad.
"No."
"Sunflower…"
"Okay, yes." Miguel being cold towards you was normal, he never spoke to you unless necessary. Out of everyone here, he probably hated you the most, even more than Miles.
"Sunflower, I've told you to stop trying." Jess sighed.
"I know, I know… why does he hate me so much, Jess?"
"That's just the way he is, don't overthink it. It's his loss, baby." She replied, gently patting your shoulder.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Today was going to be a good day, you were so sure of it.
But, of course, you were wrong.
Everything was going great up until a few hours ago.
Miguel had assigned you on a mission to catch an anomaly, alongside a few other spider-people. His instructions were clear, stick to the plan and catch the anomaly. It was supposed to be simple.
If only you didn't disobey him. You screwed up badly, and because of that, you could have been killed.
"Why don't you ever listen?" Miguel shouted. No one had ever seen him this angry.
"I was just tryin-"
"¡Ay, por el amor de Dios!" Being yelled at by your boss in front of your coworkers was humiliating, everyone was looking at you with pity.
"I'm sick of this, why can’t you follow simple instructions? Is it that hard to understand?" He barked, towering over you.
"It's not a big deal." You tried to keep your composure, you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by bursting into tears.
"Not a big deal? You could've died! A simple mistake would have ruined the whole mission."
Don't cry. Don't cry.
"But we're all fine, aren't we?" You weakly chuckled. That was the wrong thing to say because it only made him angrier.
"Oh? If that's the attitude you have then you shouldn't even be on the team." Ouch.
"Miguel, I think that's enough-" Hobie said, quickly jumping in.
"Not now, Hobie." He growled.
Never once did you think that you'd be in a situation like this.
"If you put more focus on trying to be good at your job, rather than impressing me, we wouldn't even be here!" Oh, so he did notice that.
At this point, tears were streaming freely down your face and you made no attempt to stop them.
"Yep, you got it, boss." You smiled up at him through your tears. It was pathetic, but you did not care, you just wanted to leave and never come back.
"Next time make sure this doesn't happen."
"It won't happen next time." That's because there won't be a next time.
#📂 ‧₊˚ my works .ᐟ#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse#spiderman atsv#spiderman x reader#spiderman#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#oscar isaac x reader#oscar isaac#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara angst
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tag dump: broken & updated tags part i
#morgs tag dump#✖main verse║war-torn child you were made to hold brawls between your knuckles & bury old friends & old memories beween your ribs#✖one piece verse║on days when the sky is painted grey i feel like there’s nothing worth forgiving#✖kny verse║from a tender age i was cursed with rage came swinging like a fist inside a batting cage#✖fairy tail verse║plunge the knife; bare my soul; scrape my ribs;#✖anbu verse║& death is the only god who comes when you call#✖pre-canon verse║you know better than anyone how to cry in silence for things gone by#✖genin verse║she went from porcelain to iron to steel#✖shippuden verse║the sun has been extinguished & the moon has fallen / there goes the light of our turbulent world#✖gaiden verse║& you keep telling yourself / there is no smell of war in me / but why else would this feel like madness#✖hokage!au verse║there will come a time when you might have to decide who lives & dies out there it’s a terrible responsibility#✖bleach verse║fear is what beats inside your heart in the place where life used to be#✖modern verse║life is a series of moments you wish your ribs could take back#✖bnha verse║i carry a body full of secrets & my bones align the universe within me#✖shipping call║well i won't die for love but ever since i met you you could have my heart and I would break it for you#✖mains call║i’d be lying if i said losing you was something i could handle#✖exclusives call║could we remain quiet on earth & bear it the war we make inside#✖inbox call║she screams for heaven’s help but heaven has always been deaf#✖starter call║tell it anyways for little words can sometimes mean life or death#✖plotting call║i’ve got to learn something from my mistakes instead of establishing a new record to break#✖affiliates call║peach blossom has a colour that does not ask my sins#✖ask memes║when the local language is violence be fluent
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I thought you'd be different | James Potter
Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader
Word Count: 4.6k
Summary: A cinderella story (maybe a little romeo and juliet while we're at it) but Hogwarts - Enemies-ish to lovers. You find an enchanted parchment through wich you anonymously talk to a stranger (James). When you meet him at the Yule ball, he is not who you expected, but you give him a chance. When you realise that was clearly a mistake, you flee cinderella style.
Probably part one of two again.
Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Discrimination issues, themes of bullying. Regulus is our friend. James is an idiot, but we knew that already. Sirius sucks.
Masterlist. Part two. Part three
--------------------------------
You could still remember the moment vividly, as if it was engraved in your memory. That moment when the sorting hat placed you in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor like your two older sisters had been sorted. You could still see the look of surprise, concern, horror and then eventually disgust, every time you close your eyes.
“Now we finally know your true colors,” is what your sister Alyssa had hissed coldly at you. You had pleadingly looked at your other sister, but Marla had supported her twin sister, disregarding the confused and scared look in your eleven-year-old eyes.
“Don’t talk to us, don’t look at us and don’t mention us at all,” she sneered down at you and for a moment you wondered how she hadn’t been the one to be sorted into Slytherin instead. But you had cast your eyes down and agreed.
But years passed and you had become the very stereotype of a Slytherin student, completely leaning into the cold, distant, quiet but calculating persona that your sisters had created for you. Might as well, you figured after your parent’s dismay at the revelation of your house.
You were making your way down the corridor, long strides as you passed your sisters while looking them straight in the eye. They grimaced at the sight of you, but without their entire group of classmates, they didn’t dare make any comments. A feeling of victory erupted inside of you, and you couldn’t help the small smirk that crept up your face.
“What poor soul suffered for you to look so satisfied?” You turned your head to look at the person who called out to you. James Potter and Sirius Black were both leaning against a statue in the open yard. “Did you get rid of Regulus or something?” Sirius taunted. “Finally had enough of him following you around, did you L/N?”
“Go die in a ditch, Sirius,” you retorted with an eye roll, but seemed unphased.
“Why so much hostility,” James unpleasantly remarked, and you halted in your step. “10 points from Gryffindor for loitering,” you pettily decided.
“If you have nothing to do, other than insulting students, I would love to recommend you to Professor McGonagall for detention. Heard she was still looking for the person who made all the pumpkins explode last week during Halloween, and you guys are terrible at getting rid of the evidence.” With a last glance up and down, you continued your way towards the room of requirement.
When you entered the sober room with a sigh, you noticed the small scrolled up piece of parchment in the middle of the room. You frowned. This was your space. The room didn’t open this space for anyone else, you made it specifically as a safe haven.
You cautiously approached the parchment and rolled it open to reveal nothing. It was completely blank. You shrugged. If the room left this here, it was meant for you, and so you took a seat and started drawing on it.
James sat in an empty room, his invisibility cloak hiding him from plain sight as he pulled the now folded paper from his back pocket. He inspected it closely, almost pressing the paper to his glasses in a curious manner. He had gone to the Room of Requirements earlier that day and found a piece of paper floating in the air.
James unfolded the paper, and his eyebrows flew up. Lines were appearing on the paper by itself, and a beautiful portrait of a weeping willow with a girl, crying on a bench under the tree appeared.
James fumbled to find his quill and ink. Then he started to write something on it, in a handwriting that he only ever used for written exams. Credits to Professor McGonagall, who had announced that she would not be grading anything she couldn’t read. And she had looked over her glasses at him while she said it.
It’s beautiful.
You dropped the parchment at the words that formed right under your drawing. You traced it with your fingers. Then you decided to write back.
Thank you, I’ve been dreaming about this for the past two days.
You frowned at yourself, unsure why you would disclose such information, but figured no one would be able to trace this back to you anyway.
James blinked at the response he got, mouth open in surprise. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. It must simply be a spell of some sort after all. He stared at the sad drawing and the sentence, and then he made up his mind, writing back.
It must be lonely for that girl to cry by herself under the weeping willow.
Your eyes followed the words that formed in a trance.
If she ever feels lonely again, she can always pour her heart out on this parchment. I’ll be the mighty guardian wizard that will make all her worries magically disappear.
A grateful smile made its way up your face and when you scribbled back a response, James couldn’t help but smile as well.
Maybe she will.
You doodled a wizard sitting on the bench next to the crying girl, a consoling hand stretched out.
That's how you became James’ best kept secret. He learned that you were indeed a student at Hogwarts, but that you felt lonely. That you enjoyed butterbeer, but never got to enjoy it on a Hogsmeade outing with friends, because you rarely had any. He learned that you felt inferior to your siblings and a disappointment to your parents. He noticed how you would draw a circle as the dot on your ‘i’ and learned, when he asked, that you did that because you had once seen Professor McGonagall do that when you were in your first year, and had practiced mimicking her handwriting, should it ever come in handy.
In return, he had told you that he felt pressured by the reputation that he had to maintain. He loved Quidditch and absolutely despised Ancient Runes, to which you had replied, “who doesn’t?”. He told you that he had illegally learned to become an Animagus, a stag, and that he wasn’t sure yet what the future would hold for him. He even revealed to you that he desperately wants to protect his friends and sometimes had nightmares, which usually resulted in a sneak around the castle at midnight. When you had asked him if he’d ever been caught, he responded with, “never”, and had explained to you that he had an invisibility cloak.
Two months passed and before you knew it, you were explaining Transfiguration through the enchanted parchment. You did conclude from this that your pen pal was most likely in a year or two higher than yourself but decided not to comment on it. James on the other hand, was under the assumption that you must be from his year, as you managed to help him study for his exams.
But now, it was almost 12 o’clock midnight, and James chewed his lip while he looked at the parchment. He hesitated for a moment. Then he decided to ask you the one question he had been yearning to know the answer to.
Who are you?
You looked at the paper sadly, and sighed.
You’d be disappointed.
I understand if you don’t want to reveal yourself. But know that I could never be disappointed by you, Willow.
James sighed when you didn’t answer anymore. He waved away the light that emitted from the tip of his wand and took his glasses off. He went to put the parchment under his pillow as usual, when he saw the scribbling movement that he’d gotten so accustomed to.
He scrambled to grab his wand to shed light on the paper but accidentally nudged them off the nightstand and onto the floor, where it rolled under his bed. James’ eyes flickered back to the paper in his hand, and he managed to catch the first letter of your name as it was written in capital letters.
But your cursive handwriting, the dark and lack of glasses made it impossible to read the rest of your name. When he finally reached his wand and put on his glasses, he heard the clock strike twelve and he cursed as he grasped the parchment tightly, hurried ‘lumos’ and saw that the parchment had reset itself to a blank page again, just as every night at 12 o’clock at midnight.
Wait, please! I didn’t catch it before it erased itself. Please write it again?
You let out a sigh in relief after you had internally bashed your head against a wall.
No, it was stupid of me. I’m glad you didn’t see it.
You leaned back into your armchair with a racing heart. You couldn’t believe you had done that.
“Regulus,” you acknowledged as you pulled the chair back to sit next to him in the library. “Y/N,” Regulus quietly responded without looking up from his book, and if you didn’t know any better, his straight face would indicate annoyance. Luckily, you did know better.
“You smile any brighter, the sorting hat will transfer you to Hufflepuff, you know,” you teased him.
His face distorted in a grimace and without missing a beat, he replied, “do kill me before such a thing occurs.” You shook your head and finally sat down. Then you pursed your lips in thought.
“You know how I’ve been working all summer to earn galleons?”
“No.”
“Well I did.”
“So it seems.”
“Anyway, I rented a small flat,” you blurted out. Regulus finally looked up at you, surprise almost evident on his face. Then again, you didn’t have the most amazing home situation either. You often opted to stay behind at Hogwarts for the holidays. It is how you two had befriended each other, especially ever since Sirius left him to his own devices at home. Parents, it was a trauma bonding thing.
“Congratulations,” he nodded, his voice trailed off as he tried to see how this would concern him.
“So I thought you might want to stay with me over the Christmas holidays? Your mother doesn’t hate me, so I thought it might be possible. Gives you a chance to get out once in a while.” You tentatively brought up the sensitive subject.
“And what makes you think living with you will be any more bearable than living in my own mansion?” Regulus snarkily remarked.
You squinted your eyes at him in a scowl. “A simple ‘no’ would suffice don’t you think?”
“Do I have to pay rent?”
“Depends on whether or not the answer impacts your decision.”
“So not then.”
You huffed.
“Fine, I suppose I could join you in your small flat.”
“Merlin, don’t go doing me any favors Reg, I wouldn’t want to owe you.”
Regulus shook his head in amusement.
Satisfied with your rather successful attempt to invite him over, you got up. The chair you sat on screeched loudly as it was being pushed back. You could feel the librarian’s furious eyes on your back and rolled your eyes at her as you made your way to the door. “Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” you waved your hand in the air and exited the room.
You made it approximately two steps when you spotted your sisters again. “Of course you would cause a disturbance in the library,” Marla spat at you. You raised your eyebrows but remained unimpressed.
“I see you’ve got your buddies to back you up now?” you commented and tilted your chin slightly upwards. Your eyes flickered to your other sister, their closest friends, and the marauders.
For a moment, you considered walking away, but there was just something about that twitching lip of your sister that had you irked.
You stepped forward, narrowing the gap between you and your sister. You leaned in slightly and then, “Boo.”
It took your other sister, Alyssa about one second to have her wand pulled out and pointed at your throat.
James watched the interaction with a small frown on his face. He didn’t really speak with the fellow Gryffindor twins, but their friends and Lily were friends, so the marauders had joined them on their way towards the courtyard.
His mind flickered to a conversation he had had with ‘Willow’ about her sisters, and he wondered if you felt the same sadness and inferiority as his pen pal. And with that in mind, he pulled Alyssa back by her robe with one harm, the other lowering her raised wand.
“Let’s not,” he shrugged, when she raised her brows in question at him.
“She clearly threatened my sister,” Alyssa defended.
You scoffed at that. “I said ‘boo’. That’s hardly a threat,” you rolled your eyes and glanced at James who tried to offer you something that resembled a smile.
Was he mocking you? “Fancy yourself a hero, don’t you, Potter.”
“Hey, I was just trying to help,” he raised his hands in defense.
“Cause you’re such a good soul,” you sarcastically remarked.
“Yeah, actually. At least better than you. That hostility is so uncalled for,” Sirius mumbled under his breath, and you shot him a glare. “Right, better than me. Let me ask the two-dozen tormented Slytherin students you’ve bullied this past year. Bet Snape will buy your self-proclaimed ‘kindness’.”
You were already walking away when Sirius opened his mouth to call something out to you, but James kicked his shins in attempt to shut him up. Your words resonated in his mind.
Maybe he was a twat.
Am I a twat?
What the bloody hell are you on about?
Someone called me a twat today. Now that wasn’t necessarily true, but the implications were there.
Did you deserve it?
Sort of.
Sort of?
I mean, I am only an asshole to people who are assholes themselves and deserve it. But I guess that makes me an asshole too.
You hesitated for a moment and decided to write your opinion on the matter.
Maybe you being an asshole to people makes them assholes. And then it becomes a vicious circle. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that bogger.
You reckon?
Wouldn’t have written it down if I didn’t.
On a brighter note, do you have a date for the Yule ball after the exams?
If you’re asking me out, I already promised my friend that we’d go together.
Oh right. But would you save me a dance? Maybe at midnight under the main crystal chandelier?
James bit his lip again in suspense. The Yule ball is a masked ball anyways, if you don’t want to reveal yourself.
Midnight, main crystal chandelier. You decided to leave it at that. Besides. You could enchant the mask a little extra, so you’d be even more unrecognizable. You wondered who would be behind the kind words of the parchment.
It felt strange to you. Really looking forward to something to the point you could feel jitters in your stomach in anticipation. But it was having a certain effect on you that even the younger Black couldn’t help but miss.
Regulus squinted his eyes and moved his jaw in thought. When he had had enough, he pulled you aside.
“Out with it.”
You deflated. You knew that he knew what he was talking about, so you shrugged. “Someone asked me to save a dance next week,” you mumbled.
“And you want to?” Regulus’ tone shifted to an incredulous one.
“I found an enchanted parchment in the room of requirements and it’s connected. I’ve been using it to have conversations with a mystery person.”
It felt great to be able to share this with your friend and you leaned against the wall behind you. “So yeah.” You finished the confession with an awkward hand gesture.
Regulus took a moment to register what you said. And then, as if it was the most normal thing ever, he responded with, “I see. And you have no idea who?”
You let yourself slide down the wall and tiredly put your head on your propped up knees. “Probably a Gryffindor.”
Regulus started laughing. You snapped your head up and scowled at him, not that he was used to anything else from you.
“As long as it’s not a mudbl-“
You kicked his legs and made him lose his balance. You shot him a warning glance. “You know my opinion on that.”
Regulus sighed. You had once confided in him about your home situation, including that time when you had overheard your parents argue when you came home for the first time after having been sorted into Slytherin. Your father had addressed the matter as soon as you walked through the door.
“You’re no daughter of mine.” He had said with disapproval in his voice. It wasn’t meant as a figurative insult. It was a statement. Your father believed that you could simply not biologically be his daughter. The words had you avert your eyes to the floor in shame.
“My entire bloodline has been sorted into Gryffindor.” He had looked at your mother. “Your family does have Slytherins. She’s most likely the result of your affair with that muggle a decade ago. It is possible.” And just like that, he had practically disowned you.
“Okay,” Regulus relented. “We’ll see who it is next week.”
James was nervously looking around, standing partnerless in the middle of the dancefloor. He had long forgone the mask that he had chosen because it prevented him from using his glasses. He looked at the great clock just above the table with drinks and pulled a hand through his hair.
It was time, so where were you? Hopefully you hadn’t chickened out yet because he was absolutely dying to meet you.
There was just something about you. It sparked something in him that he hadn’t felt since Lily. He’d look forward to your messages all the time. Every morning, he practically jumped up in anticipation and excitement as he reached under his pillow to read your ‘good morning’ message for the day. A smile would pass his lips each time.
James was ripped from his thoughts when a hand was placed on his shoulder blade. It tapped twice. He stopped breathing for a moment before turning around. And then the breath was knocked out of both of you completely.
For two different reasons.
James stared in awe at you. You wore a white and silver dress, covered in diamonds. A delicate white mask covered the upper part of your face, and he stared intently at your eyes, but somehow, he still couldn’t pinpoint who you were.
He could see all of your features clearly, but as if he was in a dream, he somehow couldn’t piece everything together to identify you. A charm, he realized. He was disappointed but shook it off. If you felt insecure, then he wouldn’t push it.
James’ face broke out in a grin, and he stepped forward. He couldn’t help but reach out to your face. But you took a step back. His hand fell and he frowned at your reaction, suddenly scared. He wasn’t wearing a mask after all. Compared to you, he was completely vulnerable.
Before he could say anything, you cut him to it. “No,” you hoarsely managed. “This was a mistake.” You turned around and escaped from the center of the dancefloor. James chased you.
“Wait, please. I’m sorry!” He called out after you.
You slowed your pace when you reached the corner next to the staircase. Then you shook your head with a sight, and you pinched your nose. James could see your furrowed brows.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. But my intention wasn’t to dance with James Potter. It was a mistake. Sorry for wasting your time.”
James shook his head in his turn. “Don’t say that,” his eyes pleaded. “So you know who I am. Am I..” He hesitated. “Am I that bad? I don’t know if you’ve heard any rumors about me, or what made you have a bad impression of me, but I’m the one you’ve been talking to for the past months.” He looked at you desperately. “Give me a chance, please. I only ask for a dance.”
Your eyes flickered over his sad face. You knew James from all the pranks that he did, mostly committed towards your house. You knew him from the banters you had with him, and from crying students that you undid hexes for. You knew him from pushing him out of the way as he purposely blocked your path to throw insults at you.
But you also knew the boy from the enchanted paper. The one who listened to all your worries. Who offered advice and indulged into your hopes and dreams for the future. You knew the boy who confided in you all his deepest secrets and own insecurities. Who made your day and cheered you up with his jokes and positivity.
“I can give you a dance,” you caved, and you offered him your hand, which he scrambled to hold.
James was a fairly decent dance partner, you soon discovered as he guided you with grace. “So I suppose you dance often?”
“I just practiced a lot,” he sheepishly admitted. “I had to impress you somehow, you know. Someone like you had to be crazy out of my league after all.”
Your lips twitched. “I think you’ve got it all backwards, Potter.”
“You know you can call me James, right?”
“Well, James,” you enunciated his name. It felt weird on your tongue. You had only ever spoken his last name in contempt. “I’m not very liked by more than half the students of this castle.” You motioned towards your mask. “Hence the enchantment,” you added halfheartedly.
“You don’t have to tell me who you are,” James immediately assured you, and you did relax at his words. “I’m just really happy that you’re real.”
You let out a laugh. “Why would I not be real?”
“I don’t know,” James whined. “Maybe I was just talking to really sentient paper or something?”
His answer only made you laugh more. James’ grin only spread wider.
“Whoever you are, I wouldn’t judge you,” James added quietly. You watched him silently as you swayed around the room.
“That’d be a first,” you joked sadly, remembering your own family.
“What can I say, I’m just different,” James cheekily winked and then twirled you around.
“We’ll see about that, James. You have the rest of the night to convince me.”
The dance ended and you curtsied to each other, out of breath. “But you’ll have to excuse me while I go find a bench because my feet are killing me. These heels are no joke,” you groaned in pain and sort of started to limp your way back.
James quickly came to support you and held your waist as he escorted you back to the side of the room. When you discovered that there were not in fact any benches, you sat down on the first few steps of the staircase. He raised his eyebrows when you kicked off your heels and saw that the entire slipper was made of glass.
“I transfigured those shoes myself, you know,” you proudly stated. James looked at it in disbelief. “This can carry a human weight?”
“Yeah, it took a lot of different enchantments and attempts,” you admitted.
James’ disbelief changed to awe. He took a seat next to you and you two started chatting about random things. You looked at James’ profile as he talked about Quidditch and felt soft towards him. Maybe he really wasn’t so bad after all.
The two of you were deep into a conversation when you were interrupted .
“Who is this, Prongs?” Sirius curiously stepped forward and shook your hand. You couldn’t help but grimace at him.
You politely nodded and explained the situation, but even though you engaged into a civil, nonchalant conversation, you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the presence of James’ friends.
“Anyways,” Sirius leans in towards James. “Did you see Snape over there?” He nodded his head towards Snape, and you squinted your eyes at the boy in front of you.
“You’re not thinking of doing anything to him, are you,” you sharply asked. Both James and Sirius were taken aback by your new tone.
“Nothing harmful,” Sirius laughed, but it faded when you simply raised your eyebrows at him. Sirius looked towards James for help. James hesitated. He had been reluctant to indulge Sirius’ ideas ever since his conversation with you about being a twat. But Sirius was his friend.
“We’re just having a bit of fun,” James tried to explain. “We’re just joking around, besides, he’s in Slytherin, so definitely a blood supremacist.” Your face fell at his words.
You watched his features contort in disgust and suddenly you were eleven again, and all you could see was your sisters disgusted face.
By the time you had snapped out of it, Sirius was already making his way towards Snape. James had gotten up and his head flickered between you and his friend.
You got up as well.
“I really thought you’d be different, James.” You scoffed to yourself. “You really had me convinced there for a moment. But I understand that you’re really just a bully after all, blinded by prejudice. You really are a twat.”
James’ heart dropped at hearing you say those words. He felt ashamed and shook his head pleadingly as he searched for words. But the thing is, you couldn’t care less, because you were hurt too. So you turned around and fled up the stairs as fast as you could, just in case he would come after you.
“Hey Prongs, you coming or not?” Sirius called out. James looked back at Sirius as he contemplated his next move. He mouthed ‘no’, and then tried to run after you. But by the time he reached the hallway that you had disappeared to, you were nowhere in sight.
In denial, James ran towards the moving staircases and looked up, in hopes to find you there.
Had he looked down, maybe he would have caught the last shimmer of reflection of the diamonds on your dress.
James refused to give up, however and he started to knock on the paintings, hoping that they could tell him where you went. He just had to apologize.
A symphony of protests and yelling echoed within the hall. “Quiet you!” “Have you no respect for the sleeping?” “I will complain to Filch about this, young man!” “Leave us alone!”
When the voices resided, most portraits were empty, their contents having escaped elsewhere.
Defeated, James groaned and hit his head with his fists. “You stupid git!” he yelled out in frustration at himself. James slouched down to sit on the stairs. Then he reached for the parchment and a pen in the inner pocket of his jacket and started scrambling something down.
“Please answer,” he whispered. He almost had to laugh at how pathetic he must look.
You sat on your bed after having made your way to the Slytherin dorms.
I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I said that. I’m stupid and I ruined everything. Please let me make it up to you. I enjoy being with you, I don’t want you to think of me like this.
Like I said before, this was clearly a mistake.
James read your words over and over again and he buried his face in his hands in shame. He stayed there for a long while and by the time he returned to the room, the party was over, and people had started returning to bed. On the left side of the staircase were your enchanted glass slippers precisely where you’d kicked the off and left them.
Preview of part two
Part two
Taglist:
@bath1lda @lilianelena39 @quackitysdrugdealer @princessprongs @clumsyassbitch @thecraziestcrayon @themoonofeternity @ttkttt @rentaldarling @handybrownpurse @elsie-bells
@charlie-weasley-is-underrated @dreamingofmarauders @moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @hollandweather @queerqueenlynn @locklyebrainrot @thisrandombitch @grac3aph3lion @earfquak3 @venomsvl @middle-of-the-earth @shrekscrustybudassy @bettytaylorversion @littlepoisonmushroom @faumpje @iloveutwice @katelebate @moonysupremacy01 @marina468 @fangirl-kimora @bellesowl @badasswlthafatass @sjprongs @armydrcamers @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @ireallywannasleep127 @sayukoi @jsjcue @cashtons-wife @idllyastuff @severegiantjudgefriend @ivy-34 @moonyunebi @caspianobsessed @kquil @moonys-luvr @mindflay3r @nokkoongie
#james potter x reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter imagine#james potter fluff#james potter angst#james potter x fem!reader#marauders era#marauders#james potter fanfiction#james potter fanfic#james potter oneshot#marauder x reader#young james potter
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i love focusing on the little stuff, the little details people dont expect others to see, i love peeking into the random stuff they put in as cameos and references, i love focusing on those things so much rather than looking at the big picture because often the big pictyre hurts
#this is mt coping mechanism btw lol /hj#i love looking at the facial expression. the tiniest bit of movement to tell you how a chaareter feels#or how they act in general#how they talk. the little flick of their tongue to establish an accent#the way they dress the little crinkles and folds#i love pausing videos to see the scene theyre in#to read the notes that have the most random mementos on there#the pictrues of memories they had#its so lovely and wonderful#rather than just focusing on my big picture#whats happening in my life#what has happened in my life what ive missed what choices ive made to affect how i am now#and i realize that ive done terrible things that i cannot reclaim#HELL its because of those choices when i was young that made me regret missing out on big things and things i shouldve known at my age#I DONT EVEN HAVE YOUTUBE ANYMORE !#i dont even have the APP STORE available to me#i live under a rock for all the terrible mistakes ive made in the past when i was young and didnt have good thinking skills#and now ive paid the price for it and i have no one to blame but myself#and its terrible. just really bad.#i hate the feeling of regret and guilt and the feeling ive missed something that couldve helped me grow as a person and made my mental stat#when i was younger better#betterthan it is now#bc for some reaosn im still stuck and left with the feeling of regret#and its just. bad. really bad#i wish i couldve changed that but i cant#and i think thats what my soul wants to change#the fact ive made a decision i cannot redo#maybe thats why im so indecisive#because i know i cant go back after making some choices and it causes me to take every choice very seriously and not know what to do#anyway loss of opprutinies and stuff or whatever
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thinking about lovesick!gojo
- lovesick!gojo who fell in love with you when you held his hand in comfort when he was upset from being scolded by the higher ups about something reckless he did.
- lovesick!gojo who noticed the way you understood that he was still young and even the strongest made mistakes, which is okay as he's still learning.
- lovesick!gojo who started noticing little things about you, like how you pick your nails when nervous, how your eyes light up when talking about your interest, how you tap your pencil in thought when working in class and when you smile, little dimples appear on your cheeks.
- lovesick!gojo who gets butterflies in his stomach whenever you giggle at his terrible jokes while suguru and shoko both roll their eyes in annoyance.
- lovesick!gojo who jokes around even more in order to hear you laugh again, even when the others grow even more tired of him.
- lovesick!gojo who doesn't try to hide how much he wants to hang out with you, who makes up ridiculous excuses to spend time with you. "What do you mean Suguru is busy? Isn't he right there?" "HAHAHA! That's hilarious, let's go somewhere else..." as he drags your form in the opposite way.
- lovesick!gojo who falls even more when you indulge in his teasing. "Need some help?~" You roll your eyes. "I wouldn't want to bother the strongest one~ I'm sure you have better things to do." His grin widens. "It's ok, I don't mind sparing my time for you~"
- lovesick!gojo who tries to impress you everytime you're both assigned on the same mission, showing off at every chance he got and turning his head expectantly to you to see if you were watching him. "Did you see how I exorcised that curse?" "Yes, you did great Satoru.🙄" ":))))"
- lovesick!gojo who feels the pit of jealousy when he sees you conversing with a kyoto student, even more when he sees you laugh at something he said. You were suppose to laugh at his jokes, not a random nobody's.
- lovesick!gojo who appears right by your side in the middle of your conversation, sliding an arm around your waist, pouting and batting his eyelashes. "Baby, I thought we had something special :((( 🥺🥺🥺" "Satoru what the fuck."
- lovesick!gojo who grins in victory when the kyoto guy leaves in panic from seeing the affectionate display, but frowns when you scold him for disturbing your conversation. It doesn't matter, he still won and now your attention is on him instead :)
- lovesick!gojo who loves sharing sweets with you. Whenever he bought pastries from your favourite bakery he will always get extra to share with you. He especially loved seeing your face light up whenever he mentioned getting your favourite pastry.
- lovesick!gojo who gets surprised when you always return the favor, always sharing baked goods you bought, even getting the extra sweet ones just for him.
- lovesick!gojo who's ears turn red at the thought of you buying something just for him, no one else.
- lovesick!gojo who swears he will marry you one day, no matter the circumstance, not even the higher ups would stop him. All he need is to ask you out first, but seeing you chuckle as you two shared a chocolate cake, he thought staying by your side is good enough for now. After all, he's not getting cured from this sickness anytime soon.
he's so 🥺❤️😍🥺🤗😚❤️😳🥰❤️ to me
#jujutsu kaisen#fluff#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo x reader#jjk fluff#jjk gojo#lovesick gojo#jujutsu gojo#satoru gojo#gojo brainrot#hes so#screaming#look at him#he is so silly#my baby#gege bring him back pls 🥺#jjk x reader#jjk x you
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Quarterfinals, Match 2
expand to see all propaganda received! (wall of text warning oh my god this is a severe cautionary message)
Lauryn Hill:
"she paved the way and was hot as fuck the whole time"
"Girl c'mon. Look at her. You're gonna try and tell me that isn't the most beautiful and attractive person alive? Okay. You're lying but okay."
"if u freaks don't give ms. lauryn hill the respect she deserves..."
"actually one of the prettiest women ever I'm such a lesbian for her. like irl I'm already a lesbian but she is helping"
Damon Albarn:
"Don’t think Damon should be here? Why don’t you get your head checked by a jumbo jet? Maybe you’ll feel heavy metal and calm down."
"If Damon is in the “some guy” category, he’s the heavenly and heartbreaking version. Damon is the sort of significant stranger I’d see on the train out of Colchester but could never speak to, just a face seen in passing yet too radiant to be real. I’d fall in love for an hour and carry the ache for a month."
"Damon sets the standard for me. I think he’s the most fascinating man alive. What I find attractive in Damon is not just his gorgeous bone structure and boyish charm, but how wholly he’s committed himself to music. Damon is an artist who walked the walk: in one of his roughest years with some of his rawest songwriting, he said he was no longer excited by anything except the creative process. He was disillusioned with the celebrity of it all, with his relationships suffering for it, and only wanted to make art: nothing more, nothing less. He would go on to compose film scores, write operas and stage musicals, produce other artists’ records, form collectives to fulfill his passion for world music, and create some of the most globally successful music of his career in a completely innovative format that placed him as the phantom behind the characters. Whenever one band takes a break, he makes a solo record or puts together a supergroup to stay busy. He’s uniquely collaborative and still writes personal letters inviting artists to record with him, and yet can function as a one-man show, acting as a multi-instrumentalist, a singer-songwriter and a producer. He’s been a constant voice of bringing British music to the world *and* bringing world music into Britain. Sure, he’s won Brit Awards and a Grammy among others, but he also has a Guinness World Record and was named an Officer of the British Empire for his services to music; his long work with Africa Express earned him respect even from peers who’d previously dismissed him, and his commitment to support his Malian collaborators in the face of violence earned him the title of Local King in Mali. There is so much talent in the world, but there is truly no one else with a career that looks like Damon Albarn’s. Damon is far more than just a prettyboy to look nice on a magazine cover, but looks are the ultimate point of this tournament, so make no mistake: he was terribly, terribly pretty. You watch him performing in the 90s, you sift through photoshoots and interviews and documentaries, and it feels *cruel* how beautiful he was. If his talent was god-given, so was his face. To put a bow on this thesis: I don’t know if Gorillaz and Damon’s musical universe would be the experimental, globe-trotting, boundary-pushing community affair it is if Blur hadn’t become such a central figure in Britpop and if Damon had not been made such a media spectacle, and I don’t know if Damon would have been that spectacle if he wasn’t so ungodly pretty. The domino effect is that Damon’s cherubic face launched a thousand multimedia art school projects for decades to come."
"I wish I was basically any bloke in the 90s so I could tongue Damon Albarn down. Damon will see a man and ask “is anyone gonna kiss that?” and not wait for a response."
"I have a pillow with his face on it. I sleep with it every night 😊"
"“I’m more homosexual than Brett Anderson, always have been. As far as bisexuality goes, I’ve had a taste of that particular fruit, or have been tasted you might say…” is just the rawest most Shakespearean statement ever"
"he is the ultimate Pretty Boy ™. his glorious golden locks, his electric blue eyes. he is if Princess Diana was a Britpop Dude. he is the Regina George of Britpop. he is if Aphrodite took male form. Zeus would come down to earth to fuck him if he knew. he is a caffeinated orange cat let loose. he is deranged. he is unhinged. you never know what will come out of his mouth. he had sexual tension with every single man who knew him. he pulled justine fucking frischmann. his aura knows no bounds. he is a siren. he is a weird guy. but being so gorgeous stunning ethereal didn't stop him from also being one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation"
"THE MAIN BLUR"
"literally where do i even begin. i could write entire essays on this man. a good place to start would be the beetlebum music video, i suppose. i'll never forget the first time i watched that music video. something in me changed, my brain chemistry was altered, my life was never the same, i view the world a lot differently now. and a lot of the viewing i'm doing is of pictures of damon albarn's face because of boy do i have a lot of those saved. every time i try to look for a photo of something on my phone i can't find it because there's so much damon. okay that's maybe an exaggeration but this man has the most unfathomable beauty ever. his eyes? HIS EYES. god dammit i love his eyes i want to stare at them until the end of time like nothing else exists. i'm so normal about this man (lying) and while i'm usually very shameless about my interests i'm actually incredibly glad this propaganda is anonymous because otherwise. yeah. but the world deserves to see damon albarn's beauty and also hear his fantastic voice because what the fuck. his voice is literally the most gorgeous sound ever produced like bro sounds like that and expects me not to fall in love? i want this man to sing his silly songs and talk absolute nonsense to me until the sun eventually blows out and the world ends. cmon damon girlies let's demolish this tournament i know there are a lot of you."
"He’s beautiful. He’s a little rat. He’s a sweetheart. He’s a dickhead. He’s a musical genius. He’s a dumb bitch. He’s a jock. He’s a weirdo. He’s real. He’s an illusion. He’s everything. He’s just Damon."
"DAMON DAMON DAMON where do I begin oh jeez I've hyperfixated on this man for a solid 4 years and still going strong. Damon makes me wish that British people are real. That says A LOT. This man created a whole ass ANIMATED BAND WITH A SHIT TON OF LORE as a SIDE HUSTLE??? Not to mention, what other man has collaborated with Stevie Nicks, MF DOOM, Del the Funky Homosapien, Snoop Dogg, AND Beck?! People, we're literally in the presence of a god. And he's STILL GOING. Anyways, TL;DR, damon is so so so neat and cool and he should definitely win this competition. Thank you."
"Okay 90s Damon is The Perfect Boy yes yes, but the people who parrot the Daily Mail and say "he's ugly now" will never understand. I would still suck every drop from him on his deathbed."
"Vote for whoever you want to. But Damon is so pretty."
"i did not spend hours admiring this beautiful man's face on pinterest just to see him lose."
"Damon Albarn just brings me joy. When I'm watching him perform, following along as the camera lingers on and adores his pretty face, I get butterflies like I'm 15 again. It's nice to still feel that totally unguarded giddiness sometimes."
"God let the intrusive thoughts win making Damon. What if he's a beautiful blond twink with eyes like saucers and dick to his knees, he reads Herman Hesse and plays footie and is insufferable about both, he'll be the most prolific musician of his generation and write operas and seminal albums in 5 different genres and also he's gonna be the dumbest bitch alive? He'll also be kinda bi, but only kinda. And send."
"when i found out about his existence, my life was changed forever. i wish i could use him like the hannah montana boot milk pillow and chuck him at the wall so he makes a loud thud"
"Think of the drama and anon fights it'll cause if Damon wins it all! And think of how quiet it'll get after Damon's out. You'll miss him when he's gone, like memories of a noisy house years after it's grown silent. Choose Damon, and keep the messy train chugging."
"Even the Gallagher brothers have the hots for him."
"Kiss kiss I love him also you can't vote for any of the Seattle men they're literally copy and paste it's not fair. We need Brit representation"
"I want to take care of him, I want to provide for him. I need to gauge his baby blue puppy dog orbs out to I can clean them with wood varnish, paint shades of Pantone 320 C in his eyes, spray eau de parfume by dior in them and sew it back into his eyes like that scene in Toy Story 2."
"Seeing as simply filling the page with ‘Damon’ written 10000000 times isn’t going to cut it 😅 may I admit/submit: I DO have him tattooed on my being (no descriptive, is this anon?); he’s inspired somewhat unhinged late night/early morning fandom conversations in which I’ve served as ‘parish’ priest hearing confessions from all manner of folk about what they’d like to do to him/receive from him; sadly I lost an essay where I detailed why the letters that make up his name suit him so well, and described him as the hot caramel sauce to Graham’s cool vanilla ice cream. He’s a faerie princess with a nose that makes people weep and a voice that feels like the warmest home and he gives amazing hugs. He loves trains and chickens and his tuxedo cat. He’s annoying and sweet and somewhat unhinged and his music saves people and all this is on top of that fantastic dick. He’s a dream yet very real and we’re fucking blessed to be on earth at the same time as him, amen"
"Damon Albarn was a beautiful, beautiful boy. The world saw that, regardless of if every individual reading this has the same taste in men; it felt like a truth of the universe at the time. They don't make celebrities that angelic in face and erratic in personality anymore."
"I need to touch his eyebrows, nose and prostate just one time JUST ONE TIME COME ON"
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🔮 OPPOSITES ATTRACT
synopsis. a quiet slytherin and a loud gryffindor find themselves on a chilly evening, which results in something unexpected — at least for people around them. the oldest weasley’s daughter finds herself infatuated with nott’s only child and vice versa, even if their worlds seem so different, being apart just doesn’t feel right.
notes. theodore nott x weasley!reader. slightly sunshine x grumpy (pretend you’re a ginger if ur not). part 2 containing the date, thoughts?
theodore nott never thought he would be given a chance to love and be loved, upon all the terrible mistakes he has made. and maybe it seemed silly for a sixteen years old to say, but with an upcoming war, he wasn’t so sure if he could live through it.
theodore nott never thought he would have someone to call his own, someone to help him, when times get tough or someone who would understand him wordlessly. to be fair, theodore nott never thought he deserved anything like that, so the surprise on his face, when he found someone who was involuntarily willing to be his person was enormous.
he was walking around the crowded streets of the city, the dim lighting allowing him to see muggles running around with different expression on every other face he has passed — some of them were happy, cheering the slowly creeping holiday on them, some of them were exhausted and/or angry, probably from trying to find a perfect gift for someone and failing. just watching them gave him some sort of comfort, he had never had to look for gifts too much, his father wasn’t keen on being all festive and christmas was just any other day. the exception itself was looking for presents for his friends, which never had troubled him so much he looked exhausted.
he was in his thoughts, when he felt like he collided with someone. his eyebrows were squinted as he looked down on the red-haired girl, whose face was all red, either from cold or embarrassment. though, there was something so familiar about the girl that made him study her face for a brief second, the tea stain on his unzipped jacket didn’t seem to bother him at all, not as much as the familiarity of the girl.
“oh my god, i am so sorry, sir.” she let out ashamed that she didn’t look where she was going and that she probably ruined someone’s evening with her no sugar, lemon tea. it was then, when the familiar girl finally gave up and looked at the person she rudely bumped into.
“nott?” her words weren’t coated with layers of disgust and regret that out of all the people in london that night, she bumped into theodore nott. her words had surprised and confused undertones, almost as if she didn’t mind seeing him there. now, he obviously recognized his attacker — y/n weasley, a girl he sits behind in history of magic, a twin sister of potter’s best friend, someone who should hate him with burning passion.
“are you alright?” redhead’s question took him off guard.
theo was expecting something else, like a mockery of the fact that he was walking amongst muggles without hexing them all. though to be honest, theodore never hated muggles, well, yeah, he said some stupid shit, when he was younger and he was far from proud, but it was the need to appease his father. he definitely didn’t expect to see the worried manner in her, her brows scrunched as she tried to read his emotions, while standing in front of him in silence.
“theo…?” repeated y/n. he wasn’t alright and he didn’t know if he should show it. for merlin’s sake, he really wanted to get so much things out of his system, but venting to a weasley? he knew better than that — she would probably go around, and spread out the word about everything she heard from him.
nott was about to mumble something in response, when her eyes flickered with concern, demolishing all his justification why shouldn’t he talk to her for longer than needed. she was genuine, not caring that ron and harry weren’t on a good terms with him, she wanted to know, and help if possible.
so, theo simply gave up the act. “uh, no. not really.” he confessed, confirming all the suspicions she got to gather from observing him for a few minutes, when he thought of an answer. her expression changed from concerned to slightly sad, even.
before the boy could realize, he was sat in one of the small coffee shops beside her, a half empty, steamy cup of hot chocolate in his hands as they talked. something was so incredibly off about the way they conversed, first time in a while, he never wanted to conversation to end, just like when he was talking to his friends. his body itched at the thought that soon both of them would have to come to their respective houses and the talk would be just a memory that never happened again.
he had to admit that y/n’s presence was soothing. it was like the smell of a freshly printed new book, a cigarette on a foggy morning, a sensation of someone’s nails gently scratching the inside of his palm. the last one was a habit his mom developed to calm him down before she died, leaving him with an aching need for someone to find out about his perk and do it when he needs.
her muffled laughter filled his ears as he watched the girl cover her lips with a palm, he couldn’t help but smile. the gloomy atmosphere that he brought with his tiny vent was long gone, since she declared it her mission to make him feel better. so, since he wasn’t a big talker himself, she let him listen to all the stories from when she was growing up. even though he never experienced a family like hers, a family that cared for each other, it was comforting.
his eyes darted to the clock hung up on a wall, followed by hers and a long sigh that left his lips. his fingers ran through his curls as he parted his lips to bid goodbyes, though y/n was faster. “we could meet up here some other time, if you want.” she gave him a shy smile, the one he never thought he would see on her face.
y/n weasley wasn’t the shy type of girl, she was a big talker, a smart-ass with witty comebacks and a obnoxiously loud aura coating her small frame, though right now, upon his gaze that wandered around her face for quite some time now, she grew shyer.
“uh.” stuttered theo. “yeah, i guess it’s a good idea.” his reply made her smile go bigger, and in the back of his head, it felt like a reward for the decision he just made, some kind of reassurance that he did something good.
“perfect.” she grinned, taking the two of their cups and taking them to the shop’s kitchen, revealing that either she works there, or she’s just insanely crazy for barging into someone’s workplace as an unwanted stranger. “there’s a fireplace in the back.” weasley added, taking his hand in hers before he could even refuse (he wouldn’t though).
the tips of her long nails gently grazed his palm, when she led him the back, greeting a few of her coworkers. her touch on his skin ached, almost burnt, although if that’s what the insides of a normal, fireplace without floo powder felt like, he could grow to like it, only if a part of her body was pressed against his. few minutes later theo’s hand felt empty as he watched her disappear in green flames, having bid their goodbyes.
***
theo hated that feeling. this warm, strange feeling that coated his heart whenever he thought about the obnoxious gryffindor, who he met at those muggle streets. nevertheless, he found himself unable to think about someone else. he was replying to a letter pansy has sent him, and the only thing he had on his mind was y/n, he wondered if ginny told her about her little getaways with theo’s best friend, if all her brothers got back to their house, and — if she thought about him.
his hands throbbed. his fingers wrapped tightly around the quill, before putting it down on his deck. why on earth would he text her? it was one accidental meeting at some crowded street, one conversation that shouldn’t mean anything to them.
nott squeezed his eyes, the muscles on his face tensed as he focused on the paper in front of him, scribbling down a few words in his neat handwriting. a long sigh has left his lips, his eyes tracing the sentence he wrote for her. shit, why would he even do that? if any of his friends knew, he’d have been doomed — one weasley hanging around their friend group was enough, but he didn’t want to push draco nor blaise’s limits.
on a christmas’ eve, he went out for another walk, slightly hoping in the back of his mind that he’d accidentally bump into her again. this time, theodore would make sure to hear her laugh more often, to see her teeth, when she smiles or to watch as she gets shyer upon his gaze on her face.
his feet got him into a familiar looking café, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion — he couldn’t pinpoint from where he knew the place — and looked around. then, he heard it.
“theo!” a female voice rang in his ears. the boy turned his face, a smile slipping onto his lips as he realized where he was. the god damned café y/n was working at. “what can i get you?” a grin spread across her face, visibly delighted to see him there, almost as if she hoped for it.
her forearms laid on the counter as her body leaned a little closer, her hair pinned up in a ponytail that probably got ruined during her shift from running around the place, having a chat with each customer every now and then, a pinkish tint on her cheeks, maybe from the heat in the back or maybe, because he was there.
it took him a second to realize that he was staring with his mouth slightly parted. “uh—” he stuttered, getting a small, barely audiable giggle in response. “i just came to see you.” he blurted out. thank god his ears were covered by the beanie, because just by saying those six words got him all flustered.
“theo.” his name sounded so well coming from her. theodore wanted to hear it again, again, and again. it was melodic, like most beautiful song he’s ever heared. how could he get so whipped after one hangout?
“i hoped you’d come by.” she confessed shyly. “i have something for you in the back, could you give me five minutes? i gotta tell the manager i’m taking a break.” she beamed at him sweetly, rushing off to the back, taking off the green apron that hung on her waist in the meantime.
when she came back, she was still wearing the café’s shirt with a small, green logo, black jeans, and was carefully walking towards his table with a neatly wrapped package and on a top of that a plate with a big piece of some sort of chocolate cake, two drinks (the same as last time), and a cookie. her hair wasn’t in a ponytail anymore, ginger strands falling into her shoulders as she gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.
“you– you got me something?” a question left theo’s mouth, leaving him all surprised — the strange feeling warming him up from the inside. he took a big sip of the hot chocolate in front of him, hardly minding that he burnt his tongue, he didn’t want to say anything stupid. “y/n, we talked once and you… got me something?” he asked once again, not believing his own eyes.
the girl just smiled wider, passing the box towards him. “uh. yeah.” she answered, shrugging. “last time, you said that you never really celebrated christmas the right way, so… please open it.” she tried explaing herself, but gave up at the end, pushing the box further with her fingertips. “please?”
shit.
if she didn’t ask, if she didn’t give him those eyes and that smile. maybe he would be able to refuse, think of some lame excuse that wouldn’t hurt her feelings and give her the box back. but y/n was so sweet, and thought of him hard enough to prepare him a gift.
for half a second, theodore could see something flicker in her eyes, when his lean fingers gently pulled the green ribbon, ripping the gift paper afterwards. the gift turned out to be a sweater, a hand-made one that made the feeling come back to him.
the sweater was dark green, in the similar shade of his tie or the snake symbol on his robes, it had a large, dark blue letter T with a silver outline. his eyes scanned the piece of clothing, the corner of his lips going slightly upwards. “you got me your mom’s iconic sweater?” asked theo.
his mind was filled with different thoughts and emotions right now. he could never call y/n weasley a sweet girl, not because it wasn’t true, but because it would be an understatement — she was the sweetest, or at least somewhere in that range. his cheeks almost hurt from smiling at her, and never in his life nott had felt it.
“actually…” her cheeks started getting a little more pinkish than usual. “it’s based on my mom’s sweaters, i did it on my own. it might not be perfect—" y/n started rambling in nervousness, afraid that the boy won’t be happy about getting a meaningless piece of fabric from her.
“y/n, i love it.” theodore’s words were like honey to y/n’s ears, she gave him a small smile, not really expecting him to gently grab her hand out of sudden. the reason behind it? even theo didn’t know (probably to ease her nerves).
when he realized what he did, he wanted to take his hand back and mutter a quiet apology, the crime scene awkward as much as only possible. although, from the corner of his eye, he noticed that the pink on her face intensified, few more minutes of skin-to-skin contact, and she would turn into a tomato, so his hand stayed on hers, taking the chance and intertwining their fingers together.
“would you– uh,” the redhead started, stumbling over her own words, easily losing focus, each time his thumb stroked her hand, a tiny smirk hovering over his lips. “like to, uh, come here once in a while, you know… until the break’s over? keep me company, maybe?”
and he did. how couldn’t he? this girl was constantly on his mind ever since she bumped into him on the streets and spent literal hours at the café.
although, beside just keeping her company during the winter break — but also at school. he grew so fond of her (and believe me, it worked both ways) that cutting their fresh friendship short was something he couldn’t let happen. so… even though her younger sister was already swaying her way into theodore’s friend group, y/n seemed like a different topic.
theodore nott liked sharing. as unbelievable as it sounds, he really did. whenever he had something he enjoyed, he was willing to share, he was the type of person to give away his last cigarette to one of his friends, but the thought of sharing y/n weasley never crossed his mind. he wanted her all to himself, so… their hangouts always contained just the two of them.
small study dates in the library, late night walks around the courtyard, meet-ups in the room of requirement, picnics in the astronomy tower, while smoking some pot and cigarettes together.
back then, it felt strictly platonic. even if they called it their little dates, nott had a feeling they weren’t moving past the friendship line, while his emotions towards the girl were getting more and more serious. nevertheless, theodore was confident, but not confident enough to ask her out — to confess his silly crush without the fear creeping up on him that y/n would reject him and turn his dreams into nightmares.
***
the weather outside was getting better with each day until spending time inside the castle was unbearable. it was around the time, theo decided to finally push his luck and ask the girl of his dream out. ever since he woke up, he was nervously fidgeting with everything that got to his hands and when then classes were to start, it only got worse.
“you alright, theo?” a whisper left y/n’s mouth as she stood next to him in potions, her elbow nudging him lightly, trying to catch his attention.
merlin. the way his name sounded so wonderful on her tongue. if it wasn’t for the small attention-grabber, he would definitely accidentally ignore the question to daydream about how sweetly her voice is.
“no, i mean– yes, yes i am.” he stuttered. “i just– can i ask you a question?” she nodded, making his stomach turn around. “would you, uh– like to go out to hogsmeade with me? like on a date?” the question left his lips.
his throat went dry as he waited years for an answer (which was actually just about two seconds, theo’s brain just got really dramatic from stress), legs giving up, so he had to lean his palms on the table.
“f’course.” weasley grinned, not minding the blush that spread all over her face, just from the ask. “i thought you’d never ask, really.” she giggled, turning her eyes away for a second, before flashing him another beam of hers.
nott’s face was now bright pink. “i– what?” he was struggling to form a logical sentence. “you wanted me to–?” the boy was supposed to finish his thought, though it didn’t really sit well with snape who interrupted their little talk, postponing it until the evening.
the two of them were walking somewhere outside, laughing about something so insignificant, when the situation from classes popped into his mind. “so… about that date. you really want to?” asked nott.
he expected any kind of answer — yes, no, maybe, you should guess, nah — whatever was only possible. however, the feeling of her lips on his wouldn’t cross his mind. she kissed him. y/n has kissed him, leaving him breathless, when she pulled away.
“does that answer your question?” redhead chuckled, her fingers still curled up against the collar of his white shirt. he shook his head, still mind-blown. “yes, theodore faustus nott, i was dying to hear you ask me out on a date. whatever we have between us, i wanted it to move forward and go on a date with you.”
she laughed. “you really think i’d spend hours crotcheting a sweater for a guy i met few days earlier if i didn’t feel something? theo, i almost passed out when you touched my hand months ago.” another laugh left her lips that were now so close to his, clouding his mind with one certain thing.
upon hearing all those words, the boy couldn’t stop himself anymore, he pressed his mouth against hers, savouring the moment. cherishing the fact that she wanted him like he wanted her.
“the date is still a thing, yeah?” y/n smiled as her nose brushed his.
“you’re gonna love it.” he answered, grinning.
#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#pansy parkinson x ginny weasley#harry potter fic#harry potter fanfiction#theodore nott fic#theo nott x you#theo nott fic#slytherin boys#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys fic#theo nott rec
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