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yslkook · 3 years

Text

IF I GOT YOU (7)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: one month later...and things start to come to a head. you feel more at peace than you've ever felt, but as usual, what remains peaceful is always interrupted.

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, HELLA HELLA toxic friendship and dynamics, suggestive content (hooking up and other mentions)

word count: 4066

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts

Despite a month going by from the last time you spoke to Jungkook in the park and put all of your feelings out in the open, spring air, you feel lighter than ever. Maybe most of that has to do with the simple fact that you’ve finally cut out a toxic, deadweight from your life. Regardless of what ends up happening with you and Jungkook as friends or more than that, at least you are at peace and happy with being yourself.

Besides, it’s not like you don’t ever see him. You see him when you visit the tattoo parlor (but you haven’t allowed yourself to be alone with him and he hasn’t initiated), you’ve seen him at impromptu nights out, at Yoongi’s apartment. Neither of you allow yourself to be alone with each other, since you had both agreed to wait. Even your text message thread with him is dry, though.

You miss him, hoping that a notification of his name with the bunny emoji attached to it flashes across the screen. But it doesn’t.

For all of his bravado, he feels somewhat shy around you on the few occasions that he’s seen you. Jungkook will go out of his way to avoid you, hiding (as much as he can) behind Mina and Mei.

He misses you. Jungkook misses the feel of your lips molding against his, the way you felt in his arms, but most of all he misses your shy smile and your loud laugh. He misses the way your eyes shine when you speak about something you’re passionate about.

Mina had said you were both being stupid, taking time away from each other when you both are denying the inevitable. But it made sense in your mind and his. You want to know what kind of person you were without the burden of Sora’s judgment weighing heavily in every frame of your life. You take the time you need to take to recenter yourself and feel somewhat whole again.

It doesn’t take you long to adjust to life without a former best friend. You quickly begin to notice how different you feel, how differently you approach basic things that you hadn’t really put much thought to before.

It feels so refreshing to not feel like you’re walking in some metaphorical shadow of someone who didn’t really care about you. Well, you think on some level, she did care. But along with the insignificant way she made you feel, it’s not enough to justify it. And you’re really grateful that you don’t need to anymore.

In fact, you’ve already deleted most pictures with her on your social medias. You haven’t quite been able to block her yet, but you think you’ll be ready to do that soon enough.

The ever elusive notion of time really does seem to heal nearly all forms of hurt.

“So,” Yoongi starts, sitting next to you on his new black leather couch and handing you a glass of red wine.

“Don’t start with me,” You say, poking his shoulder.

“I’m not starting anything with you,” Yoongi shrugs, but his eyes twinkle.

“Oh? That’s the voice you use when you have gossip or when you’re about to interrogate me,” You mutter, rolling your eyes with a fond smile.

“Maybe it’s a little of both,” Hobi chimes in, sitting on your other side. He leans back and drapes his legs over your lap, to which you instantly rest your hands over his legs.

“How lucky for me,” You mumble, taking a long swig of your wine. You’ll need it.

“How’s that witch doing,” Yoongi asks bluntly.

“I don’t know, I told you I cut her off and kicked her out of my house like a month ago,” You reply, “Did you forget already?”

“No, I just like hearing that you finally came to your fucking senses,” Yoongi says, “She was awful, but I’ll commend you for sticking it out for this long. Cheers, the witch is finally gone-”

“I believe the phrase is, ‘ding dong, the witch is dead’, but this will suffice,” Hobi says and yelps when you swat his shoulder.

“Don’t be rude,” You say, “But… thank you for helping me see the light. Even if it took a while. And I’m sorry it affected our friendship, too.”

“Ah, well, we’re all here now,” Hobi says, pulling you in for a side hug.

“Yeah. So cheers,” Yoongi says again, raising his glass to you both, “Cheers to you for choosing yourself. And to new beginnings.”

“You’ll make me cry,” You say honestly, offering your friends a watery smile.

“As if we’ve never seen you cry before,” Hobi scoffs. And it’s true- they are two of your oldest friends, and even if you’ve come to the realization that maybe you hadn’t been the greatest friend to them… That bond is hard to sever, and you’re grateful that they’ve always had your back.

“Drink up,” You say with a smile, “Cheers to new beginnings.”

Yoongi has always been a little sly, unassuming but always with several tricks up his sleeve. When he so desires to cause a little mischief and stir the pot a little. And Hobi is all too happy to engage.

Which is how you end up several glasses of red wine and rose deep (yes, you mixed, rookie mistake but who cares. You’re in the presence of some of your greatest friends, after all).

And then Yoongi goes in for the kill.

“How’s our Jungkookie,” He asks, without missing a beat. You choke on your wine and wince when it somehow gets lodged in your nose.

“I don’t know. Think he’s good,” You finally respond, your words sounding slurred, “Ask Hobi. They work together, if you didn’t know.”

“Oh, thanks for the information. I had no idea.”

“Happy to be of service,” You say, leaning into Hobi's side, “Ikindofmisshim.”

“What was that? Didn’t quite catch that,” Yoongi says, a self-satisfied smirk blooming on his lips. He heard you, of course he did, but you don’t seem to pick up on it.

“I said I kind of miss him,” You reply, a dreamy look in your eyes, “Do you think he misses me, too?”

Hobi chokes back a laugh but you hear it and offer him a glare. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“Nobody’s making fun of you, stupid,” Yoongi says poking your forehead, “And yeah. Your man doesn’t shut up about you. Always with those eyes around you.”

“He’s not my man,” You whine pathetically.

“Yeah, that’s a mystery to both of us,” Hobi says, “How long are you both gonna keep this up?”

“Keep what up?”

“This weird awkward dance you both do around each other. Avoiding each other when we’re all together. It’s kinda funny, like we all know you both wanna fuck so bad-”

“Shut up! That’s- that’s not- shut up!”

Yoongi and Hoseok both burst into laughter, drunken giggles loud in the living room and you can’t help but laugh with them.

Clubs were never your most favorite place to unwind, but you make an exception for tonight. For Mina and Mei, you’ll make an exception. The three of you had gotten ready together in Mei’s home, in between sips of cocktails that she had poured out. Mina had done your makeup for you, giving you the sharpest eyeliner you’ve ever seen on your eyelids as well as a bold red lipstick.

It’s not a club night if there is no red lipstick involved, after all.

Your makeup usually looks good when you apply it yourself, but Mina has a genuine eye and skill for makeup artistry. You recall her telling you that she’d always dreamed of going to beauty school but hadn’t pursued it. You had told her that it’s never too late to fulfill a dream and she had only smiled at you.

“Hey,” You say, “Is Jimin coming tonight? How’d your date last week go?”

“It was really good,” Mina says, something sweet in her voice, “He made me dinner and dessert. And then I sucked his soul from his cock an hour later and he even made me squirt. And yeah, he’s coming tonight to the club. We’ll see what happens...”

“Wow,” You nod, listening with wide eyes, “That sounds amazing. I’m really happy things are going well for you both. Including the horny stuff.”

“The horny stuff?” Mei laughs, “You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” You say, playfully shoving her shoulder, “It’s no joking matter that he made you squirt.”

“Yeah, I high fived him after,” Mina says slyly, “It was… a night. Can’t wait to have another night like that. But I’m gonna make him work for it tonight.”

“As you should,” You nod solemnly, “What about you Mei? Are we drinking until we blackout or are you playing hard to get with Seulgi?”

“Who says we can’t do both?” Comes Mei’s muffled response.

“Cheers to that,” You reply, “Are… Jimin’s roommates coming?”

“You think you’re slick, huh?” Mina snorts, “You wondering about Jungkook?”

“N-no, I haven’t seen Taehyung in a while either-”

“Tae’s coming, but Jungkook isn’t. Something about having a long week and wanting to chill at home.”

“Oh, gotcha,” You say, cheeks ablaze as you avoid her eyes. Unable to hold the slight sting of disappointment from your voice.

Mina and Mei see right through it but they say nothing, only handing you a refill of your now empty glass.

Despite the relatively steady stream of drinks in your hand (an illusion, really, you’ve been nursing the same two drinks all night), you’re almost completely sober. In fact, you’re more tired than anything else. It seems that Jungkook had the right idea to stay home tonight. You’re rather benignly jealous of his decision.

You enjoy dancing and singing with your friends, feeling the thrum and excitement of music and your close companions bursting through your veins.But environments like this overwhelm you sometimes. All of the flashing lights, sometimes smoke and all of the people… Tonight seems to be one of those nights.

“Wanna dance?” Comes a rich, velvety voice behind you to the right. It’s Taehyung, and you’d rather dance with Taehyung than anyone else in this club. With the exception being Jungkook, but he’s not here right now.

“Okay,” You nod, taking his hand when he offers it to you. Your thoughts flit to Jungkook briefly.

Taehyung is good company, always keeping you with a smile on your face and filling you up with laughter. He keeps you close with easy, gentle movements as you both belt out the words to whatever song is playing on the speakers. But Taehyung has always been observant.

“You don’t really wanna be here, huh? I’d take it personally, if I didn’t know you,” Taehyung teases.

“No, it’s not that,” You murmur, “Just have never been a big club goer, that’s all. Jungkook had the right idea in staying home.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung muses, “What are you two doing?”

He’s almost as blunt as Yoongi (who’s also in some corner of the club. Usually, he keeps you company at things like this, but conveniently, he’s nowhere to be found.).

“If I knew I was going to be interrogated in this club, I would’ve drank more,” You say dryly. Taehyung laughs at that and squeezes your shoulder.

“You both deserve to be happy. Just want you to know that.”

“Thanks, Tae,” You say, a grin spreading across your face, “I guess you’re not as sleazy as Mina says you are-”

“Me? Sleazy?” Taehyung gasps, pretending to be affronted. You roll your eyes and offer him your hand.

“Wanna dance?”

Taehyung turns you around and holds your hips tightly in his hands, dancing with you to the beat of the music. It’s nice to be held like this, even if it’s a little dirty.

You don’t notice a pair of sly eyes watching you from across the club.

By the time you excuse yourself to catch a breath and grab some water from the bar, you realize that most of your friends are off doing their own thing. It gives you a second to people watch from the second floor of the curb and lean on the railings, taking in your surroundings. Despite stifling a yawn.

You relish in the cool feel of the icy water flooding your senses, waking you up a little more. You wonder if you can convince Yoongi to take you to get fries or tacos after the night ends. At the thought of tacos, you salivate a little.

But your taco fueled fantasies are broken when a few girls try to push past you to get to the bar. You mumble a soft apology, but it goes unheard. The unmistakable sound of a voice, a voice that you’ve only recently been able to put out of your mind, breaks through the barrier and it makes your heart drop.

It’s an angry call of your name. Your stomach churns, and suddenly you’ve never wanted to learn the art of teleportation more.

Sora, in all her bitter glory, stands in front of you with a full drink in her hands. Beside her are two of her friends, looking resigned and trying to plead with her that they should go.

“Missed me so much that you followed me here, huh?” Sora sneers.

“I’m not even going to entertain that with a response. Or you for that matter,” You say tiredly, trying to step past her.

“All your friends left you. Look at you all alone,” She says and you roll your eyes with a dry laugh.

“I’d rather be alone than have anything to do with you, Sora,” You reply easily, “I’m leaving now-”

But she sidesteps you again, gripping your forearm and looking at you with so much animosity that it makes your skin crawl. Had she always looked at you like that?

“I can’t believe you just dropped me like nothing. After I gave you everything,” Sora says, as if you had said nothing at all. She’s clearly a little drunk, telltale signs of her drunkenness clear on her face. Her words are slurred and she stumbles a little on her feet. You cringe. You don’t want to have this conversation with her whether she’s sober or drunk.

“You treated me like I was nothing,” You snap, “I don’t want to discuss this with you. Now let me go.”

“Or what? There’s nobody here ‘cept you and me, babe,” She says, her lips twisting into a cruel smirk. Her friends have disappeared and warning bells start to go off in your head. She’s right, all of your friends have dispersed. But you manage to fish your phone out of your purse while she rambles to you and send a text to the groupchat, simply stating “pls help, Sora is here”.

Dread seeps into your pores. You just want to be done with her presence.

“Sora, just let me go. Nothing you say will change anything,” You say heatedly, “Fucking let go of me!”

You try to yank your arm out of her grip but her nails are sharp against your skin.

“I loved you, you know that? I fucking gave you everything, you were my best friend,” Sora hisses, “I just wanted to you be happy. To see that I’d do anything for you.”

It takes a minute for the dust to settle but you suddenly begin to understand. “You hurt me! That’s not friendship or l-love, or anything remotely close to it. Nothing you say will change that. I don’t want you around anymore. Take a hint, Sora,” Your voice is cold and deadly, nothing like what Sora is accustomed to.

“Please, let me go,” You beg softly, “Why won’t you let me go?”

Tears spring into your eyes, both from the force she’s holding you with and from how much this is exhausting you.

“What does he have that’s worth all of this?” Sora hisses.

“It doesn’t matter what he has. I like him and I enjoy spending time with him, that’s all that should matter, and I’m not explaining Jungkook to you,” You say coldly, “You lost the right to know a long time ago. If you took your head out of your ass for two seconds, you’d know that this friendship was over months ago.”

By now, both of your voices have raised in volume and pitch, attracting the attention of bystanders. This makes no sense to you, your head is starting to hurt from the implications of her words. You just want to go home. By now, Yoongi has seen your text and is trying to get to the bar to rescue you from Sora.

“He won’t give you what you need,” Sora exclaims.

“Shut up! Just fucking stop talking about him,” You shout, “I’m so fucking sick of this, just leave me the fuck alone. Your opinion doesn’t matter to me anymore, just drop it!”

You feel the need to defend him though, “He’s kind, he has a big heart a-and, you know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you. Just fucking drop it! Leave me alone!”

“You are so fucking blind! You’ve always been such an oblivious fucking bitch,” She screams at you and your blood goes cold. You’ve seen her angry, but not like this not when her eyes are blown over with rage.

Yoongi’s heart is beating in his ears as he tries to find you- this club is fucking huge, where the hell could you be? He’s already sent a text to Jungkook, telling him that you might be in trouble at the club and that nobody could find you.

“Where is he then? If he’s so kind, he must be here right?”

“What the fuck is your problem? You’ve always had a stick up your ass about him specifically- I mean you’ve always have a stick up your ass, but with him it’s like something crawled up there and died-”

“You couldn’t even cuff him? You dropped me for him and you didn’t even cuff him?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“What are you afraid of, babe?” She sneers cruelly, “Afraid he’ll find something he doesn’t like? Or are you afraid you’ll find something that you don’t like?”

Frustration and hurt boils in your belly, causing wetness to pool in your eyes. You shut your eyes tightly, willing the feeling to go away. With all of the calmness you can muster, you throw her hand off of you and rub your forearm gingerly.

Before you can say anything, her eyes narrow to slits. You don’t even have time to react before you feel a sudden wetness drench the front of your top. Remnants of her drink are splashed on your torso and you gasp, rage flaring through your veins once more. How dare she throw her drink at you? Before you can do anything though, a pair of arms circle your waist and you’re pulled into a strong chest.

You recognize the scent of his cologne immediately and the feel of his leather jacket. “Jungkook,” You mumble, looking up at him. He immediately gives you his jacket and pushes it through your arms wordlessly.

“Hi,” He murmurs, taking in your wide, nervous eyes and the trembling of your hands. He brushes a thumb over your cheek before standing in front of you and you take his hand in yours. Jungkook squeezes reassuringly.

He offers Sora a long, hard look and a shake of his head. She almost balks at his intense gaze. Almost.

“C’mon baby,” Jungkook finally says, “Let’s get out of here.”

“My knight in shining arm-” You shiver once you’re both outside the club, away from the eyes of strangers. You cut your train of thought off when he pulls you close to him, cupping your cheeks with both hands. Worry dots his eyes and he presses his forehead to yours shakily.

“Jungkook?” You say softly, “Is everything-”

He exhales, a shudder felt against your skin. He seems to be at odds with himself, an internal battle dancing in his dark eyes. But Jungkook makes up his mind and cradles your face again, the gentle pads of his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“I missed you,” Jungkook croaks, “Shit, I miss you so fucking much. Can I kiss you, baby? Is it okay if I kiss you?”

You nod instantly, breathing out a soft ‘yes’. Whatever this recent development means for both of you, it makes sense. You want this and you want him.

And then he kisses you as if it was meant to be, as if he’s been thinking about your lips every minute of every day- soft, balmy lips against your chapped, red lips. Jungkook swallows your gasp, somehow brushing against the parts of your heart that missed him. His kiss is sweet and desperate as his tongue traces over your teeth before dipping further into your mouth. Your knees weaken slightly, but he holds you steady with one arm around your waist and his other hand cradling your cheek.

You’re overwhelmed by him and from the events of the night. Whatever wetness had gathered in your eyes clings to your lashes before dropping down your cheeks.

“Baby,” Jungkook says softly. He gathers you in his arms, hugging you tightly. You sink into his hold on you, inhaling deeply. The faint thrum of his heart calms you slightly.

“I missed you,” You reply, voice barely above a whisper, “Fuck, I missed you a lot.”

He kisses your forehead with a small smile, the hint of his dimples making you smile, too. Jungkook looks at you as if you’re transparent, trying to study the reason for your wet lashes and the tear stains down your face. A feeling of understanding passes between you both, calming your racing heart and your nerves.

“Jungkook,” You murmur, “Take me home.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Yours,” You reply, not really wanting to be in your home just yet, “It’s only fair, since you spent the night at my place last time, right?”

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Jungkook chuckles. He kisses you one more time before adjusting his motorcycle helmet over your head. When you wrap your arms around him, you press a kiss to the back of his neck and behind his ear.

He shivers.

Jungkook can tell you’re in your head a little bit, a little quiet and shaky. Even as you head into his bathroom to change into the clothes he’d given you, you couldn’t quite meet his eyes. When you returned from the bathroom with a bare face, you’re lost in thought, biting down on your bottom lip and chewing harshly.

He’d pulled you into his arms, applied his clear balm on your lips, and chided you for treating your lips like that.

You only smiled weakly at him and meekly asked him to hold you under his covers. He doesn’t deny you.

He’d caught the tail end of Sora’s tirade at the club, and he’d begun to understand. He thinks you had begun to understand, too.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispers into your hair, “Do you want to talk, baby?”

“I don’t know what to say,” You admit softly, pressing your hand over his.

“I can talk for both of us,” Jungkook says, kissing your temple, “Can I do that?”

“Yeah,” You mumble, threading your fingers through his and squeezing.

“I heard some of what Sora said,” Jungkook says and you tense up but he wordlessly tells you to relax, “I think in some weird, twisted, fucked up way. She loved you and her way of showing you how was keeping you to herself. It’s shitty, but it made sense to her. But you don’t owe her anything, baby. Not a damn thing.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I feel really gross and I don’t know why.”

“That’s alright, baby,” Jungkook says, rubbing your arm, “You didn’t know. That’s not love, not really. You’re safe here.”

“I know,” You say, turning to look at him with a small smile, “I trust you.”

You turn fully in his arms, resting your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist. His heartbeat lulls you to sleep, as well as his gentle fingers over your back. It’s so easy with him, and you don’t need to think too much. Just how you like it.

Tags: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

MoM Tags: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 3 years

Text

Mystery Writer (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer finds books at a second hand bookstore that are annotated and he falls the person writing the notes.

AN: This was part of a fic swap on @imagining-in-the-margins server! This is for the marvellous @definitelynotkatesblog <3 I really hope you like it! I had to delete the original post because it didn't show up in the tags. This will be staying up regardless of that now.

Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

“If you need anything, just let me know!”

Spencer pressed his lips together at the person behind the till before heading deeper into the rows of second-hand books. Familiar titles, old and new, printed on spines in various states of pristine/decay, they tempted him to select and bring them home with him. The clear sections between biographies and fiction guided him deeper into the forest, deeper into finding his way out. He was hoping to adopt one such book for a day off, when he could revisit it with a fresh eye. It would be like seeing an old friend again, remembering why they were friends in the first place with a hint of that initial read through from years ago, and perhaps he would learn something new in the process.

A dull ache in his chest at the sight of The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle. But he had long since recovered from that heartbreak and he would be able to read this story without feeling that again.

Still. It had been several years since he read this book.

His nervous fingers plucked it off the shelf and the pages fell open for him. A flattened gum wrapper parted the pages like the Red Sea. Spencer lifted it out tentatively. Its creases were ironed in from its role as a temporary bookmark, an impression of scribbled black ink flattened after it was made.

Spencer’s eyes scanned over the page in search of what this gum wrapper might have been guarding.

“Women are never to be entirely trusted – not the best of them.”

In the margins was scribbled:

Product of the time, but still a prick, rude smartarse role a bit dull

Spencer found himself exhaling in light laughter. That a lack of empathy was considered “dull” by this person, when it was something he dealt with in his job almost every day. The confidence in this commentary too, this brazen critique of a much beloved fictional character was left for someone else to find.

His gaze found Watson’s opinion of Holmes’ casual sexism: “atrocious sentiment”. It was circled twice in the same black biro.

Spencer dug his thumb against the text block and flicked through the book. A waft of that book smell lifted from the paper, accompanied by the bold notes of the previous owner dotted across the text until he finally landed on the reverse of the front cover. Two letters – initials - were scratched onto it.

It was with bridled exhilaration that Spencer approached the till and held up the book with a half-smile. His hands were quick to place it down on the counter so that the shop assistant could type the price into the till. His mood was apparently palpable because they seemed just as happy as Spencer to hand him back the novel in a brown paper bag – the receipt tucked inside.

--->--->--->--->--->

“Love is an emotional thing, and whatever emotional is opposed to what is true, cold reason, which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgement.”

What a lonely existence and also a lie. See: entire relationship w/ Dr. Watson!

Spencer smiled at this comment. Now all the other instances of a double underlining made sense. Each one produced itself in his mind as evidence that Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact love. Maybe not marry, but it would have been terribly unconventional for him to wed Doctor John Watson. The unknown author seemed to understand this. They never emphasised if this love was platonic or romantic. But the way in which they proved love existed within this character oft portrayed as emotionless, Spencer simply adored. They were a romantic reader, who still enjoyed reading about the cynic

He grew quite aware of his posture in that moment and he straightened his back. A few clicks of complaint emitted as he stretched, his head twisting from side to side. Screwing his eyes open and shut behind his glasses, he revisited your deduction.

On the dot of the “i” in “lie”, there was a sprinkle of graphite around the indent from where a pencil’s lead had snapped from the effort put into topping off this point. A sprinkle of graphite smudged where the pages pressed together.

Spencer moved on to where a sentence in black biro tried to blend in with the printed words. A memory appeared at the front of his mind: when Rossi was bewildered to learn Spencer and Dr. Alex Blake wrote the newspaper crossword in pen.

The pencil markings were like mini brainstorms, something to revisit and make a solid theory with the black biro. But the planning was never rubbed out.

Little quotes were circled. This mystery critic spent half the book roasting the characters and the other half leaving little exclamation marks and circles around phrases and words when they couldn’t think of something to say. Spencer found it sweet, picturing the thrilling unfolding of events for the reader to revisit.

His heart ached in bittersweet memory as he recalled the contents of Dr Alex Blake’s book The Route of Linguistics. It was necessary pain to create a profile of who this mystery critic was. Yes, he was profiling out of work hours. His evenings were now spent trying to picture the voice behind the notes. The sarcasm, the witty blows to the character’s and author’s ego. He almost wished that he couldn’t read so fast because he finished the book, even with its additional notations, all too quickly. But there was one bonus.

Spencer traced the pad of his fingertip over the exclamation marks describing Mary Morstan. What else might a detractor of the great Sherlock Holmes read?

--->--->--->--->--->

He had returned to the bookshop in favour of adopting another. Yet he could not find one that satisfied his unknown criteria. It was not until he found himself checking the front pages of the fifth book he had selected, that he realised he was looking for a pair of initials.

Sighing, he placed My Dear Bessie, with its empty front page, back on the shelf. The chances of finding another book containing this mystery critic were so minute. He could probably calculate them if he wanted to dedicate himself to such a disheartening statistic. He’d rather not spend his lunch break doing that, as much as he loved statistics. This once, they did not assure his safety and he remained unsupported by the fact that he could not find any other Arthur Conan Doyle books.

His desperation became most apparent when he thought that perhaps fate should just decide for him. If anything, he would come away with a random book to read through in about ten minutes on a flight back home.

He peeked around the corner of the shelves. The shop assistant at the till was busy writing something down, not paying any mind to the shop’s only customer.

“A random shot had no better odds than just picking books off one by one” is what he told himself as he closed his eyes and placed his fingers on the end of the shelf, just over the first book’s spine. In an “S” pattern, his arm moved up and down, over the books and shelves and gaps between units. His feet stepped forwards into the space he knew was clear.

Spencer stopped and opened his eyes, his finger shifting just an inch out of the way of his new book’s title.

Circe. Madeline Miller.

He tapped the top and the book fell forwards, where he caught it. Its shining dust jacket was serving its purpose, a few tears along the edges from where it had protected the hardcover. He checked the front page. A map of Aiaia in orange and brown filled it to the corners. On the next page, his heart stuttered at the sight of two initials in the same handwriting and the same biro. There was also a scribble - invisible to start with then a ball of black.

The first page with the story’s text held a scribble just above its opening line:

the power of the name

“When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.”

He could see that the first was in a blunt pencil, but the addition was a sharpened point carving into the paper. A secondary thought that was provided after completing the novel, they had added it. Spencer lifted it to his face, his eyes crossing to keep the stipple in focus. The scent of the paper and the graphite reached him easily; the note must have been made just before Circe was gifted to him. How lucky he was to find such a treasure.

The shop assistant was cutting out a new sign for “BUY ONE GET ONE HALF PRICE!”. By the time Spencer made it to them, the sign was placed upon the pile besides him. The shop assistant smoothed out a crease on the dust jacket, ineffectively but Spencer admitted the gesture. He was glad that someone who loved books as much as him got to work in a place like this.

--->--->--->--->--->

Spencer’s mind, definitely for worse, echoed the words off the tabloids around his head the split second he made eye contact with the headlines. He paced the shelves to somewhere a little quieter. When he found the chocolate aisle, he pretended to peruse. Ever half a minute or so, his gaze drifted up to the till area where the shop owner was on a phone call and clearly not paying attention to him.

It was not long before Spencer grew bored of looking at KitKats, and he pulled out One Thousand And One Nights. The book’s pages fell again to page 57. This shop’s receipt stood above them, still holding its place from the previous owner. It felt wrong to part the two.

No new people had entered this corner shop for 8 minutes. He’d even given the time at the receipt’s end a fifteen-minute margin either side. Given that this mystery critic took a break from work at the same time on the same day of the week – and that they worked during the day – he should have seen them. Maybe he had, and they were that man in the baggy hoodie who stunk of weed. Probably not. Hopefully not. Not that Spencer was judging him for his… recreational activities. He just wanted the mystery critic to be someone he could realistically spend time with.

Just then, Spencer’s phone trilled annoyingly loud. He received a glare from the shop manager and Spencer sent an awkward apologetic expression his way before answering JJ quickly.

“Spencer, we’ve got a case. We need you here ASAP.”

His response was immediate. “Ok, be there in ten.” Hanging up, Spencer dithered on the spot then grabbed a packet of Cheetos. He’d been there for nearly twenty minutes; he had to get something.

“Three dollars,” the manager said before returning to his call. But not before he rolled his eyes at Spencer. Spencer dropped the bills onto the counter and dashed out before he could be offered a receipt.

--->--->--->--->--->

An outlier in the usual length of case work had passed by in five long days. Spencer hardly ever regretted the time he put into this job. Every unsub caught was lives saved. But the absence of his mystery commentator had been niggling at the back of his busy mind and he was glad to finally reunite with them on this long flight back.

From his satchel, he recovered the copy of One Thousand And One Nights and began rereading the notes to ground himself in the story. His focus lingered on the page as if he were reading it at the average 250 words per minute. It allowed him to block out the humming of the engine.

Spencer did not take his eyes off the page as he pulled open his desk drawer and popped a piece of overpriced gum into his mouth. Half-hearted reminders bounced in his head, from when he tried smoking and chewing gum to ease his cravings. The fruit flavour was very clearly artificial and it faded within six minutes. Why his mystery critic would pick such a pathetic packet of gum to chew, he didn’t know. But hopefully the fact of its flavour disappearing fast would mean they get through the packet quicker and buy another soon. Even if today, and the days before, spent in that shop did not lean in favour of that hypothesis.

--->--->--->--->--->

The Five People You Meet In Heaven was in the Recently Donated pile. It was near the top, slid towards the edge of the container after being placed wonkily on a copy of some sports autobiography.

Within the pages was more than Spencer could have ever hoped for. Entire paragraphs were circled, quotes underlined. A squashed mini post-it note tabbed the page and a whole paragraph was scrawled on it, about Tala. An arrow pointing to the underside, Spencer lifted the flap and saw more to read, like an interactive pop-up book that he’d gotten Henry for his second birthday. Spencer closed his eyes quick and snapped the book shut. He wanted to save it for when he was sitting comfortably, not while he was rushing back to work in time for JJ to get to her lunch break on time.

The shop assistant had just clipped the lid back onto a green highlighter when Spencer drew up to their counter. With careful fingers, he placed the book upon it. There was a twitch of the assistant’s mouth; their eyes brightened. They looked like they wanted to say something, but something else held them back from making the first move. Spencer recognised it from his school days.

“It’s a good read.” He spoke after they had typed the price into the till.

“I know,” The assistant replied instantly, a relieved smile on their lips, “What part are you on?”

“I’ve already read it, but I wanted to revisit the passage at the diner.”

“Ahh, that’s a good bit. One of my favourites.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed a fraction of an inch. His gaze dropped to the nametag on the left side of their chest. Y/N, their name’s first initial. It couldn’t be.

“What did you think about the final person, Tala?”

“Oh,” The shop assistant clutched at their heart, “I was an emotional wreck before and it hit me hard just as the rest did. So bittersweet to hear her forgiveness. It took me a few times to finish reading the end, but it was all worth it.”

He couldn’t be this lucky, to get this many books from the same person and to have them standing in front of him. Spencer didn’t believe in luck.

As he reached across for his new book, he turned over the cover, “Was this yours?”

Twisting their head around to read the publication details, the assistant – Y/N - smiled sheepishly at the initials. “Yes, and I’m glad to see it go to a new home.”

Apparently luck believed in him.

“But,” Spencer felt his brows knit automatically as he looked between the book and their previous owner, “You love it. I-I’ve seen your notes.”

A hand clapped over Y/N’s mouth, “Oh God, you must have. I mean, it wasn’t the intention initially, but I thought they might be a little entertaining for anyone who picks it up to leave them in there.”

“Oh, they were! I’d love to read more of your thoughts. Hear, hear them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Y/N checked the door to the shop, still shut, and back to Spencer. They dropped their elbows onto the countertop with their chin in their palms. “What did you wanna know?”

From his bag, Spencer procured his – their – copy of The Sign of Four and flicked through the pages. So many places to choose, but he wanted to open with what had introduced him to Y/N’s analysis.

The pair put their heads together, leaning on the counter. Spencer could smell the chewing gum on their breath. Y/N never cut him off, and he never wanted to cut them off. There were little pauses at the end of each of their turns to speak before the other picked up where they had left off. Their voices leapt from secretive whispers to passionate orations of their favourite passages, rebounding evidence and analysis off each other like a bouncy ball. Spencer finally had a voice to put to the sarcasm, the one his mind had conjured long forgotten in the wake of Y/N’s enthusiasm.

The shop’s door swung open. Spencer leapt to attention as an older woman swept in, past the two of them towards the non-fiction section. Y/N adjusted their name tag, their back straight too. The clock behind the till announced that it was now twenty minutes after the end of Spencer’s lunch break.

Running on the rush of his hobby meeting a potential friend, Spencer asked, “Can I get your number? So we can talk more, maybe swap some more books, when you’re not working?”

His luck was still by his side as Y/N wrote out their number on his receipt, written in their infamous black biro.

--->--->--->--->--->

Spencer leapt over to the door of his apartment, took a deep breath, and unlocked it. Stood behind where it had been was Y/N and they too were still wearing the uniform from work. Their nametag was still on their polo shirt, the same spot that Spencer wore his FBI tag.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked the second they made a step inside his abode.

“Tea would be great. Milk and one sugar please.”

And while he was in the kitchen, Y/N rushed over to the bookshelves, their eyes wide to take in Spencer’s collection. “Oh wow! You weren’t joking!” Their finger indicated to a hard cover copy of Mean Time by Carol Ann Duffy, “That’s one of mine. Well, yours now.”

Plucking it from the shelf, they opened it up. Spencer had written his initials beside theirs.

Spencer stuck his head out in the partition, “Ours. If we’re going to be sharing.” Y/N stood on tiptoes, teeming with delight, their hands cradling the book with all the care Spencer could hope for in a fellow reader. Joint custody of their books and their passion? What a dream.

“I just have to write a little more about the epilogue, and I’ll be with you,” Y/N took their place on his couch. A pencil began scribbling away their thoughts onto the last few pages. Their knees were their desk.

Spencer finished brewing and placed the mug in front of Y/N, who mumbled a quick thank you to him. He joined them in writing his final notes. It slowed him down a considerable amount, but he was glad to take things at a casual pace, especially considering the way that Y/N almost broke their pencil as they scrawled out their thoughts for Spencer to hear later.

“Have you thought about the next one you’d like to try?” Spencer asked tentatively. He wasn’t so sure if Y/N would want to be interrupted.

Luckily for him, Y/N paused their stream of consciousness to look back at his books, “Hmm. So much to choose from.”

Stood up, their book left in Spencer’s care. They took a deep breath, closed their eyes and used their forefinger to draw a zigzag over the spines. Spencer felt that he was almost sick with joy.

Y/N stilled their wandering hand and opened their eyes, already drawing out the selected novel, “This one.”

“And what have you chosen for me next time?”

Y/N handed over The Butterfly Lion from their bag, “Ok, I can’t wait any longer, what do you think?”

They sat back on the couch. Their legs now hung over the arm of the couch, elbows either side and face cupped in their palms. The book rested in their lap. Shifting so that he faced them completely, Spencer returned to the first page and his analysis began.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #my writing

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

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hi 💜💜 i got a prompt about ian x body image a while ago (my inbox is a hot mess and i may have deleted the prompt lol, but i did paste it into my phone notes)- and i was feeling some feelings today & had some spare time amidst my travels & ended up writing this!!

prompt: can you write about ian and his relationship with his body image, esp post-canon when they move to the westside

(tw for body image/eating disorder/food mentions)

He didn’t really even think about it the first times that he did it— skipping a few meals that went unnoticed in the morning clamor of the Gallagher kitchen. He noticed his skin growing tauter and tighter around his abdomen with every passing day, a hollow absence sitting like a rock in the pit of his stomach.

He did it for a reason—he’d been getting more lingering looks under the flashing lights at the club, more unwelcome fingers pressed against the now-present ridges on his stomach, tracing his toned upper arms. The less there was of him, the more they wanted him.

The thing about Ian is that he was always disciplined; the middle child, the one who was overlooked and ignored and blended in until he decided that he had to make a name for himself. He and Lip and gotten into hair-tugging, jaw-smashing fights about this very reality; Ian was completely, totally, absolutely ordinary. Until he made himself extraordinary—until he burst through the storefront labeled “ARMY” at a strip mall with smudged windows and said with a tall chest: I want to enlist.

Everything had led up to this— every push-up on the creaking slanted floor of their childhood bedroom, every jog at the crack of dawn. He was going to make something of himself, he was going to be a hero.

He was going to get the fuck away from Mickey, and his wife, and whatever else kept pushing him down and holding him back.

When Ian came back from the army, when he was sleeping on exposed floorboards and working at the club all night—that was when it all actually started. When he decided that less of him meant more—when he decided that he should give people the best show he could, because everything else was fucked up anyways. This was all he was good for.

But then Mickey came through the door, pale skin flashing in the strobe lights, wearing that fucking dark button-up with sleeves folded to his forearms and smelling like nice cologne that he’d almost definitely stolen from one of his brothers’ bathroom shelves; and for a brief moment after the initial shock set in, Ian was proud— proud of how much negative space surrounded him, proud of how he could press his thighs into stretched golden spandex better than any of the other men thrumming to the beat beside him on the podium. Proud of how much other people wanted him, when Mickey didn't.

It was only later, after Mickey carried him home (easily, too easily) after he’d passed out in a snowbank, and Ian had woken and waited for Mickey to burst into his bedroom door at the Gallagher house while he leaned against the wall and scribbled on a notepad— later, when Mickey was about to curl on the floor and sleep using one of Liam’s balled-up t-shirts as a pillow— that Ian noticed Mickey’s eyes lingering on his uncovered torso, a second longer than the quick glances of admiration from the well-dressed men with greased-back hair and grubby fingers at the club. It hit Ian, then, when he saw Mickey’s gaze that was soft around the edges, the same fuzziness and confusion of Fiona’s stares when he would chatter on for too long in the mornings:

He’s worried about me.

But Mickey played along— Ian was back, and Mickey stayed beside him this time, and chuckled when he walked down the stairs to the sight of Ian cutting off the bottom half of his old ROTC pants, now multiple sizes too big and hanging baggy even at the hips. Mickey curled beside him on the twin bed, silently stroking hair back from his forehead and cradling his cheeks with a feather-light touch as Lip and Liam’s even, sleeping breaths swirled around them. And Ian kept doing pull-ups, and told Carl that he liked the way that Mickey smelled. Mickey came out for him. And for a while things were really, really fucking good, and Ian didn’t even think about the gnawing hollow feeling in his stomach at all any more.

Until a grey morning came, quick and silent, and kept him frozen under the sheets for days.

In the months afterwards, Ian trained harder, faster—he met up with Fiona as she pushed Liam in the stroller and jogged beside them, ran before and after shifts at the club, did push-ups on Mickey’s grimy floor while he was out handling Rub N’ Tug shit.

I’m not Monica. This wasn’t going to happen again. His body could do this. His body could fix his brain.

It couldn’t.

Most of what happened on the “road trip” with Yevgeny (that was the only phrasing that Ian could really mentally use to name the incident, the only semiotic filler for “kidnapping” that didn’t want to make him burrow even deeper under his tattered blankets) was a blur—Mickey feeding him fistfuls of pills and room-temperature Gatorade, luring Mickey to the dugouts where he tried to do a pull-up and felt a quivering in his limbs, a weakness rather than a familiar and fulfilling burn. Slamming Mickey in the face with a fist that was too flimsy, too weak—a fist that still left the blooming of a bruise on Mickey’s jawline, a splatter of blood caking into his eyebrow. But still weak, still not enough. Definitely not strong enough to fight off two MPs with loaded guns, tangling his hands behind his back and forcing him into the backseat of a car.

More blurry days— on the road with Monica. Breaking up with Mickey. Getting a job at Patsy’s. Withering away, purple bags sagging under his eyes. Becoming less, always less.

Then, a glimmer of light— he met Caleb. He studied to be an EMT. He got a call from Mandy, got to wrap her in his arms in less-than-ideal circumstances.

“I got tired of starving myself to fit in that golden thong.”

It was the first time he’d said it out loud.

He started to run again—and he started to not miss it, the hollow feeling gnawing at his insides, the twisting lack. He met Trevor, he went to brunches, he ordered mimosas and muffins and kept himself in shape, but didn’t push himself too far.

So it surprised him, really, when once again his body and mind weren’t in sync.

That was the biggest thing he’d think about, in the idle hours of he and Mickey’s prison cell, months later—that for once in his life, years after the nights at the club or the hazy early mornings at Patsy’s or in a baggy janitor uniform, he was actually doing really, really fucking good. He had a following. He was strong. Or at least he thought he was.

But something about being near Mickey pulled him out of his head and into his body, centered him— it always did. Mickey had always liked his body; Ian remembered how Mickey’s eyed at lingered that night at the dugouts, when they were two kids doing pull-ups and Mickey watched his muscles clench in the moonlight, two sets of shining eyes and bodies warm with beer leaning closer to each other in the muggy air. But Ian never felt a need to flaunt his body, or change his body, for Mickey— and in so many ways, those first days in prison were like his body was coming home. Sometimes it was hard, and fast, and filthy words whispered into each other’s skin—and sometimes it left them grasping for breath in an entirely different way, in fingertips lazily skimming over collarbones and fisted into roots of hair, of breathed “Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful”s escaping Mickey’s parted mouth that Ian mentally stored but never brought up again, because he knew in the best case scenario Mickey would just roll his eyes and call him a “soft bitch,” and in the worst he would just flat-out deny it. But Ian felt balanced in a way he hadn't in months, with all the "Gay Jesus" bullshit pressing in. He took his meds, he did his nightly sit-ups, he counted down the days—until the hourglass was slipped out from under his fingertips and he was teleported back to the Gallagher house, back to the place where so much of this began and so much was about to end.

The hollowness, the hunger, didn’t really need to be there anymore once he was out— it was only a dull murmur. A ghost, a memory trapped in dreams of strobe lights and prying hands.

Mickey got out, and they got married—and in the moments before Ian called Mickey an “ugly motherfucker” as he let a smile crack onto his face—and he knew Mickey felt it, knew Mickey heard: I have never known anyone as beautiful as you.

And Ian’s fullness just kept blooming and compounding and radiating after the wedding; they fought, and then they didn’t, and it didn’t matter anyways because they were fucking married. Ian kept doing sit-ups before they went to bed, even though he felt like he didn’t really have to anymore. Something big had shifted; something had settled and given way, had filled in all the cracks.

So he’s surprised, when they move to the West Side, and that feeling starts to stir again; faint, fuzzy, like some sort of invasive and shapeless amoeba in the dark corners of his brain, whispering and hissing that there should be less of him. On their first morning in the new place he heads to the gym, wearing a camo t-shit that covered his torso and shoulders—and of course he ends up making a fool of himself next to some guy, some guy that he could have been, with sweaty toned abs and bronzed skin and rippling muscles. He doesn’t know why it gets to him, that small interaction—he’s so much happier now, so fucking happy he’s buzzing with it, but there’s also something churning in the faultlines of transition; that aching for hollow absence and stretched skin and interested eyes, that feeling that made him woozy and lightheaded as a kid but also sickeningly proud, like every moment of standing tall, of dancing, of staying alive was a statement, a challenge, a test of how much he could push his ability to be desired.

He immediately pushes the thought down. He doesn’t fucking need that anymore to keep his head above water; he’s stable, he’s loved, he’s fed. He’s growing organic tomatoes, and definitely developing a farmer’s tan from his days hunched over their way-too-tiny community garden plot tenderly watering and pruning the vines and brambles. He is desired. So it doesn’t make fucking sense that the hunger, the clawing in his stomach for the absence, doesn’t really stop.

“Okay Gallagher, spill.”

Ian felt his eyebrow raise instinctively at Mickey’s tone. “Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at this fancy fucking chicken thing you made for, like, twenty minutes. Stop staring at it and eat your goddamn dinner.”

He felt a twist in his gut. I don’t want to.

“M’actually not really that hungry.”

Mickey’s eyes narrowed. “The fuck’s up? You stressed about work shit?”

Ian huffed out a breath of relief. “Nah. It’s not that.” He fiddled with his fork on the plate, drawing lines into the sauce pooled under the tomato-basil chicken he’d made. It was healthy, it was good, he’d worked out today; he could stomach a couple bites of dinner if he fucking had to. He just had to work up to it. Even the smell was making his stomach twist— it had smelled good while he was cooking it, placing fresh-scented basil leaves into the simmering sauce, but now it just was too much.

Mickey’s boot nudged against his calf from under the kitchen island. “Ey. Is it a tired thing? Or a… sick thing?” His eyes darted to their kitchen cupboard, where Ian kept his meds on the bottom shelf by the water glasses. “Or, like, a food thing?”

Ian felt his fingers go slack around his fork. “A food thing?”

“Yeah, man, y’know. When you get all weird about food.”

A tightness in his chest. “What the fuck? I don’t get weird about food.”

Mickey’s eyes flickered to meet his—and Ian would have gotten more pissed off if he didn’t see the soft concern bleeding into Mickey’s gaze, how cautiously Mickey was trying to broach the topic. Ian blew out a breath. Of fucking course Mickey noticed this shit— he always did.

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re usually good, especially compared to when you were fucking starving yourself when we were kids. But, uh… I don’t know.” Now it was Mickey’s turn to play with his food, scraping his fork along the remnants of sauce on his plate that was nearly clean. “You got kind of weird about working out and shit in prison. And then at the house, with all the quarantine bullshit the first few weeks. Eating fuckin’ cereal all the time, then not eating at all. You’ve been normal since then, or whatever. Lookin’ healthy.” Ian felt Mickey’s gaze drag over him. “Just don’t want you getting stressed out and not eating again or whatever.”

Ian felt a muted warmth blooming in the hollow of his stomach, filling in the cracks of where the jagged feeling continued to claw. If it was anyone else laying out this fucking analysis of his habits Ian would’ve gotten defensive—or at the very least annoyed, that someone was pinning down yet another one of his behaviors, putting them under a fucking clinical microscope.

But of course, this was Mickey— and the difference with Mickey was that he cared, he cared so much that it made Ian’s body ache every time he realized it. Those words wouldn’t have come tumbling out of Mickey’s mouth if they hadn’t been building for a while, hadn’t been gnawing away at some corner of his mind over time.

Ian raised a hand over the table to clasp into Mickey’s warm palm—reaching over the empty plate, the plate of uneaten food.

“It’s, uh. A food thing.”

Mickey’s eyes met his—open, listening.

“You’re right about all the starving myself shit from forever ago. And the not eating. And the… quarantine stuff. I guess I just thought that now that things were good, it’d go away? And I feel so fucking good right now. But sometimes I just have weird days.”

Mickey huffed out a breath. “I fucking know you do, dumbass. M’just saying that I notice that shit. And we can figure it out.”

Ian felt the corner of his mouth tick upwards. “I really thought it was gonna go away. I’m a fucking adult.”

Mickey shrugged. “Sometimes shit doesn’t work like that, Gallagher.” He chugged a sip of water from his glass, apparently glad that this heavier part of the conversation was over now that he knew what was up. “It’s like what you tell me about my shit with Terry. Trauma doesn’t just magically fucking disappear.”

Trauma. He’d never really thought about it like that before—he had plenty of childhood shit to work through, between abandonment and raging mental illness; and he’d never really thought that his body image issues made the list.

But maybe they did— maybe this was another wound, one that he could learn to heal.

Mickey kicked his shin under the table. “There’s cereal and stuff in the cabinet, I got the Fruit Loops shit you like. Want me to wrap up the chicken and shove it in the fridge?”

All he could do was nod— and once again feel that warmth on his insides that Mickey was this good, that he knew how to make shit like this easier.

And he snuggled into the couch beside his husband, a bowl of soggy cereal in his hands.

#idrk what this is but i wrote it at LIGHTNING speed #can u tell that i reached the destination of my childhood home & am having lots of thoughts and feelings about body image LOL #i was like !!! i have a prompt about this #love u all xoxo #gallavich #shameless #shameless fic #gallavich fic #gallavich fanfiction #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ixm #tw eating disorder #tw food mention #tw ed #tw body image

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braxiatel · 2 years

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Sylvanas part 4 (2/2), in which I am too tired to form actual analysis and literally just post the notes I took while reading

(negativity warning on this one because I didn’t bother deleting the parts where I was just bitching about the bits that annoyed me)

That’s... not what happened in the Stormheim campaign

okay but here’s the thing... thus far they’ve done thing to convince me that the afterlives aren’t unjust. The methods are wrong, yes, but Sylvanas isn’t wrong in thinking the system is flawed.

The part where she is thinking about Genn and Liam not being reunited is honestly very humanising, for that matter. Here is someone she supposedly hates, and still her thoughts are on wanting justice for him

“She had abandoned sleep long ago” the way it’s phrased implies to me that this was a conscious choice. This is not important for the character or anything, I’m just making note of it for fic writing purposes

[sicko] he he... gonna write some fic that is so fluffy that was the best sleep they’d had in years

“Even with so much dividing us - life, death, centuries...” oh my god not even the internal timeline is consistent. How old is she. what centuries are these, it’s only been like 28 years since the point she considers their family to have been whole.

genuinely funny how Sylvanas keeps forgetting Nathanos exists only to ten pages be like “he is the only person I need and trust!”

is this why she didn’t realise he was dead in all of 9.0 had she just forgotten he existed again and then as soon as Tyrande mentioned him she was like “oh shit right my not-boyfriend. Wait fuck you killed him?!?!”

“Where is he? Will I ever see her? Are they happy?” trans rights I guess *shrug*

Sylvanas is actually making long term plans now. That’s a nice change of pace

Chapter 27 Sylvanas: there’s an unbreakable bond between me and the Forsaken. Chapter 28 Sylvanas: I do not care about the Forsaken

Sylvanas back on her stupid, pestering Saurfang to answer her weird questions and being surprised he realised something was up

“Sylvanas appreciated the faith her loyalists had shown to her” That’s me! look mum I’m on tv

I know it’s cringe fail of me to defend Nathanos bitchyman or whatever, but like... [gets out conspiracy board] we got so close to having an interesting character arch for him, in which his doubt for Sylvanas led to him defecting from her, and now this book is going to be like “ohno, he was like never doubting her at all.” Please christie golden world of warcraft you’ve already spent so many pages making me despondent and pushing me towards insanity with your wild Sylvanas headcanons, don’t make me look at your bad Nathanos takes too. Please. let me have something.

okay but actually though... him pleading with her to just leave... I don’t know how to feel about it. Shipper me says yes, the me who cares about both characters and their stories says no to how that was handled. I would have had that happen so much sooner.

AU Where Sylvanas agrees to help Anduin escape and none of this bullshit happened

Who is this person in metal armour?

Okay but real talk. Reading through the acknowledgements, you can tell that Golden (and the rest of the team) has a genuine care for Sylvanas. And even if I disagree so much with the writing choices here, I gotta respect that. Golden spent 29 chapters and then some laying out why she likes Sylvanas, and even if those are for the most part not the reasons I like her, I respect that.

The end, thank fuck

#I’m gonna go have a nap or something now to try to recover some of my sanity #Sylvanas Book Spoilers #Sylvanas Novel Spoilers #Sylvanas Spoilers #World of Warcraft #negativity cw #swearing cw

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abraxos-the-phantom · 3 years

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Scum Disciple Deleted

-scenes. Here you go @vodkassassin. Unformatted and mostly unedited save for some awkward phrasing I fixed as I skimmed through it. I have a habit of merely taking out scenes rather than straight deleting them when I don't think they work out so if you see it on the fic shhh I probably just found a better place for it, but for the most part I think these are unused

TLJ + MF; Flashback/Illusion

[Log: File:Save_??-???.?.????.log]

“You know, for a man so keen on maintaining the preference of a dignified cultivator, you are fairly quick to disband such things as you see fit,” Tianlang-jun mused.

Ming Fan threw a dirty look to the former Overlord of the Demonic Realm over his bowl of beef stir fry lily bulbs. It was a specialty in this region, boasting a sweet lily bulb due to the length of time the farmers around the area spent cultivating the plant. In other words, it was delicious and a welcome change to the guilt trip galore that was eating Lou Binghe’s cooking.

Oh to eat that delicious snow congee without feeling the compulsion to throw it all back up-

Well, no use dwelling on such things.

“Most of anything could be considered vulgar when in close proximity to you,” Ming Fan quipped, taking a generous helping of the stir-fry between his chopsticks. “If you had as much sensibility as you had sensuality, I guarantee that people would be more fond of you. Unfortunately, it is too late for me.”

“Hoh? Is that so?” Tianlang-jun’s lips curled in a smirk in spite of the fact that Ming Fan had no interest looking his way, regardless of the other demon happened to do. Some odd five or so years have taught Ming Fan that there were times when the best move for dealing with the other was simply ignoring him.

Ming Fan maintained his bland tone as he briefly paused to speak, “Yes.”

Tianlang-jun shook his head, “Honestly. Are all disciples of Cang Qiong like you, or are you just the special one.”

Said disciple only gave Tianlang-jun a significant dirty look, “You’d have to actually behave yourself to get to know another disciple of Cang Qiong.”

“Eh,” the Heavenly Demon leaned back against his chair with his hands crossed behind his head. “Too boring.”

Ming Fan made a noncommitting sound as he finally ate the last of his order, letting out a satisfied sigh as he leaned back in his seat.

“Ming Fan, a question if you are so gracious enough to grant me such a thing.”

Ming Fan only raised a brow, “You may ask, whether I answer is not on the table.”

“Why?” Tianlang-jun paused as he attempted to think about his question. “Why do you maintain this relationship of ours? It’s not as if you’re on any obligation to maintain basic relations for a political reason, and you hardly ask me anything so you aren’t after my wisdom. With Lou Binghe going in and out Cang Qiong Sect, it’s not as if I can threaten your Sect any more than I could try and fight with my son.”

Ming Fan crossed his arms, humming for a moment tilting his head just enough to convey thoughtfulness he turned to look the demon lord in the eye, “If you were to be confronted with a former enemy of a war without meaning, what would you do?”

Tianlang-jun hummed, “I wouldn’t care.”

“Exactly,” Ming Fan pointed out. “Now what would you do if you discovered you were on the wrong side of that war?”

“…I still wouldn’t care.”

“Would you?” Ming Fan hummed, “Well, that’s your choice.”

“So is that all? You pity me?”

“Not quite,” Ming Fan shrugged, idly arranging the finish plate on the table. “More like my recompense of sorts.”

Tianlang-jun’s expression was unreadable as he stared, quietly adding, “You realize that I’ve killed hundreds of cultivators like you. Your age, younger- older. It didn’t matter, they were obstacles in my path and I removed them.”

“Of that I do not doubt, but these days- the line between righteous and mad is thin,” Ming Fan snorted. “I stand at the meager in-between myself. But what else can I do? I am but a mere mortal, attempting to right his wrongs.”

Ming Fan took a final sip at his tea, “Sometimes, that is all one can do without going well and truly mad.”

Tianlang-jun chuckled, “I suppose that’s true.”

The hours seemed endless after that, a moment in time felt like hundreds upon billions as the two simply- existed.

“So,” Tianlang-jun said after an eternity’s moment. “What are you doing here Little Cultivator?”

Ming Fan blinked, “Is this not one amongst our many meetings?”

The world seem to blur around him like ink amongst a pool of water. Fading into implied images as the sky and trees distorted. The sounds of the earth quieted to a hushed whisper. Ming Fan’s eyes casted around in confusion as the lively village dulled into a dead silence.

“It isn’t,” Tianlang-jun leaned back, smirking. “You’ve spent so long with me that I am now here with you- in limbo. I’m flattered Fan-er.”

Ming Fan narrowed his eyes, scowling, before looking away, “Definitely. Tianlang-jun never called me that to my face.”

Ming Fan twisted away from the…demon for some time to think.

TLJ + MF - Actual Flashback

“You look like you went a round and three more with a golem,” Tianlang-jun tsked at him.

“Are you going to lecture me about coming out while I look like I lost against said golem or are you going to sit your ass down and have some tea like we agreed?” Ming Fan snapped, wincing as he sat.

Tianlang-jun whistled wolfishly. “Why, I never took that War God to be the kinky type.”

“Don’t be so obscene,” Ming Fan rolled his eyes. “He landed me flat on my ass almost a dozen times. Of course sitting down would be a pain.”

“You know there’s this flower that-“

“No.”

“But I hurt just looking at you,” Tianlang-jun whined like a particularly annoying brat. “One tiny little adventure to look for a flower that heals bruises instantly, it’s a Lotus of a blue hue, I hear those people from the far West have been using it for some time.”

“And then Liu Qingge will have me spar against him, again, and this hellish circle will repeat itself. I am only saved by the fact that my cultivation is not as advanced as one of a Peak Lords, otherwise I would be healed by the end of the week and my pain begins anew,” Ming Fan shook his head. “I appreciate your concern, I really do, but no.”

“Aww, well since you’re being so polite about it…” Tianlang-jun sighed and sipped from the tea. “Mn- this is good. Where did you get it?”

“Shang-shishu taught me how to prepare lemon tea before the fruits go out of season, apparently there is a sweetened-cold version of this as well, but he has yet to refine the technicalities of the ingredients. I worry for him, he always seems so busy.”

“He looks like a rodent who accidentally ate a pepper, though I suppose in this case it would be a block of ice what with Mobei-jun being his lover and all.”

“I did wonder how that happened, and worried a brief time. An Ding Peak’s disciples had said that their master would occasionally come home bruised and barely able to walk, they were rearing to go to war with the Northern Demons far before everything else happened.” Ming Fan sighed, “Well, it isn’t any of my business. I’m sure they’re dealing with the situation in their own way.”

“True that, those An Ding Peak children…physically they are weak, but it is always the weaker ones that surprise you the most. Especially when angry,” Tianlang-jun smiled as he mused. “Afterall, hornets don’t seem like much at first glance. That Mobei-jun has his work cut out for him, ah, speaking of. What of those two? Surely the boy is tip-toeing these days.”

“He tends to keep to the bamboo house, and we tend to stay far away from the bamboo house, especially at night.” Ming Fan raised his hand to drink. “That is all I will say of the matter.”

Ming Fan sighed, rubbing a hand against his eyes, “I am getting far too old for this.”

“Oh please, you’re not even a century old.”

“Hm, and yet somehow I am still significantly more mature than you. Have you reached the regression stage of life Tianlang-jun? I must say, I’m rather peeved that it’s a mental deterioration rather than a physical one for you demons.”

“Hoh?” Tianlang-jun leaned forward, smirking. “Wish to test how youthful I can be Little Cultivator?”

Ming Fan raised a hand idly pointing at the silks of Tianlang-jun’s clothes, startling the heavenly demon as he wondered just what the other had found on his clothes.

Then Ming Fan flicked up, hitting the former Demon Lord up the lip and under the nose, causing Tianlang-jun to recoil, sputtering from the unjust attack. The audacity.

“I’m sure you’d at least warm the bed,” He deadpanned, sipping at his tea without a care as Tianlang-jun sputtered indignantly.

NMJ/MF - Original Re-meeting for ch 52; added here for my convenience (cus i don't wanna make another post)

“Gather everyone who can fight!” One voice called. “Sect Leader Nie is being surrounded by a pack of hell hounds! They need help.”

Ming Fan was out and running before anyone could even blink- with only Liu Qingge and Tianlang-jun holding enough time to react by following him.

“Shit-“ Mingjue cursed, swinging around Bàxià to hurl one attacking hound over to the side. “Meng Yao- you alright?!”

“Could use-” Meng Yao grimaced as he had to back off to avoid the snapping jaws of another hound. “Some help.”

“Reinforcements should be on the way!” Mei Lin cursed venomously under her breath. “Just where the hell did all these damned dogs come from?!”

“We’re being overrun!” Lang Fengyi yelped as he narrowly avoided claws.

“Fuck-“ Mingjue gathered his energy, willing it to fill him once more. “Get ready to run! I should be able to distract them long enough to-“

“Don’t worry about that.”

The disciples of Nie turned to find a man arrogantly walking through the field, the hounds yipping in fear and running from him, as well as another man clad in white and silver who eyed the hounds back.

Tianlang-jun stood before the disciples of Qinghe Nie with a bright smile, “Relax now, everything will be fine.”

Liu Qingge huffed, drawing his sword, “Says you. We have to make sure he’s not overworking himself remember?”

There was a distant rumbling- an ominous presence that washed over them to the point where all the hounds began to shudder and shake in fear as they too yipped around fearfully.

Descend with great speed. Swift and merciless. Run my enemies. Leave none left alive. May death greet you well.

Formation formed.

Ming Fan dropped his sword with militaristic precision, tilting all the swords generated by his power towards the ground in varying angles.

Heavenly Wrath Formation.

Tianlang-jun looked up in the surprise, “Don’t tell me that’s-“

“It is,” Liu Qingge scowled.

“Who-“ Nie Mingjue began- before all hell broke loose.

Liu Qingge’s expression was thunderous as he swept past rows of demonic hounds, tilting on hand and waiting-

Another man dropped from the sky not a second later, catching Liu Qingge’s robes and righting him before swinging his legs on the man’s waist to get around and jab another hound in the back- Tianlang-jun was swift to join the fray, allowing the shorter cultivator to move around him to get at all the lucky hounds who managed to move away from Ming Fan’s deadly aim fast enough.

While Tianlang-jun added to the deadly partnership with his own flare, it was the pair of Ming Fan and Liu Qingge that showed the obvious years of partnership between them- for the two had years of spars and night hunts to guide their blades where they need be.

Heads flew, limbs joining them as the immortals of Cang Qiong Sect and Tianlang-jun of the Heavenly Demon Line slaughtered the feared and the rowdy- leaving those of Qinghe Nie in awe.

“..Wei…” Meng Yao said, knees beginning to grow weak. “Wei Fan?!”

The man abruptly froze, glancing towards their direction before seeming to move on instinct- the War God sensing the sudden change and using his arm to propel him outward, allowing the man to fly across the air and land his sword true through the skull of the hell hound that was just about to take a chunk from Nie Mingjue’s side.

Ming Fan, not upset as he was, barked at them venomously, “Just what do you think you’re doing?! Fucking move! You’re in a battle field! Fight damn you! Are you not of Qinghe Nie?!”

“Teacher Wei!” Mei Lin cried- openly actually, crying.

“Oh for the love of-“ Ming Fan cursed. “I’ll take your crying and yelling and cursing later, lift your sabres and fight!”

“Xiao-Fan!”

Ming Fan turned, grunting as he launched his sword in the Heavenly Demon’s direction and skewering the hound. “What?!”

“Lower your blood pressure!”

Ming Fan felt his blood pressure rise out of sheer spite. “Fuck you!”

“A-Fan,” Liu Qingge growled. “You just performed one of the most powerful formations while silent. Calm down.”

“I can’t!” Ming Fan caught himself with a scowl. “But I’m not upset!”

“For the love of-“ Liu Qingge turned to Tianlang-jun. “Can you handle the rest?”

“Yeah I got it,” Tianlang-jun batted away a hound with his bare fist. “Just take care of our pissed off little horse first.”

Liu Qingge wasted no time, grabbing the now fuming Ming Fan, his nose beginning to trickle with a line of blood and generally causing the already shocked disciples of Qinghe Nie to panic.

“Hey,” Liu Qingge’s voice was soft as it was firm. “Calm down. Calm. That’s not a request.”

“I’m trying,” Ming Fan hissed. “You try doing this in the middle of battle.”

“Alright back up plan,” Liu Qingge turned to the still shocked Nie Mingjue. “You. Make yourself useful. He needs a distraction.”

“Wha-“

Liu Qingge shoved Ming Fan into Nie Mingjue, the taller man abruptly catching the man by the waist to steady him before something else caused him to loose balance.

Forgot one: Deleted Extra feat. Yang Yixuan + MF; written with it's og formatting since notes preserved my italics somehow

Cold wind swept past the ravine.

Shaking trees and rustling branches provided the background noise for the twittering creatures who lived in the back mountains. Within this quiet land was a surrounding of high elevation mountains spanning all around the mountain side.

There, Ming Fan sat quietly. Watching the creatures bellow- there were no humans for miles save for those few people within the Ancient Sect, and they were hardly just human anymore.

“So, you’ve finally decided to get off your ass.”

Ming Fan stiffened.

Yang Yixuan’s arms were cross across his breast, idly looking down from the view of Qing JIng Peak.

The landscape had changed much since Ming Fan had last come here, it was greener. With the trees far taller than when Ming Fan had last seen them, the older trees cut down by the ravages of war and time- but new ones taking their place. The silence too, was new. With no disciples Cang Qiong Mountain was a far quieter place than it had been during the height of its Sect Years. Some ascended, some peacefully settling into their next life, and some sticking around. Going to and fro the place carrying out errands and enacting a firm hand where the average Cultivator could not handle. The war had put a damper on such things, what with their stance of neutrality, bu it was no less somewhat of a sobering surprise that those of Cang Qiong Mountain had seen what was happening and judged it would be better to remain quiet.

He knew why of course, it was more practical in the long run for a mythical Sect, they were not here to force the future into their own hands- merely to counter the monsters of the yester years. Still. He wondered.

“You’re thinking so loud I could practically here it,” the former head disciple of Bai Zhan peak, the former Peak Lord himself, continued with a raised brow. “You’re normally quick to empty your mind and dump it onto others.”

Ming Fan scoffed softly, “Normal is a poor basis to use to pass judgement at the moment, even a Bai Zhan Peak buffoon like you should realize such.”

“…”

Ming Fan pursed his lip, anger simmering.

Settle.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” He said softly, allowing his fist to slack from their death-like grip.

“You just lost your brohter,” Yang Yixuan said bluntly. “You were a raving asshole when Liu-shifu dragged you here. Pretty much spat at Luo Binghe’s feet and insulted just about everyone.”

Ming Fan restrained the urge to flinch at every word.

“I’d be more than a little troubled if you didn’t act like that after losing your brother.” Yang Yixuan continued with a shake of his head. “It’s good to know that our illustrous Ming Fan is still a human.”

“Have I not proven that time and time again?”

“Dunno,” Ming Fan turned his head, the Bai Zhan Peak’s former sole disciple’s voice turning uncharacteristically soft. “You were doing a pretty good impression of acting like an immortal before.”

#Scum Disciple's Adventures Into the Unknown World #SDAUW #BTS I guess #Are there actually behind the scenes for writing idk #I'll see if I have time to write one since I do have a lot of notes from when i planned this fic #and maybe some bits of the history referenced in SDAUW #MDZS x SVSSS Fanfic #One that is tbh really out there in terms of concept ngl lol #Scum Disciple BTS

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outofsstyles · 4 years

Text

WILDEST DREAMS

a/n: soo I’ve been working on this for a little while now and I’m very excited to share it with you al!! This piece is inspired by Taylor Swift’s music video for her song Wildest Dreams. If you’ve never seen the video, or don’t remember it really well, I recommend you watch it *after* reading the story so you don’t get it spoiled! If you’re interested then you can watch it by clicking *right here!!*

Word count: 17.2k Rated: M, mature

You agree to help your friend on her film project and Harry is playing your love interest.

“You’ve been frowning a lot and haven’t said a single word in the past five minutes, what’s wrong?” You looked up to your quiet roommate sitting opposite to where you stood near the kitchen counter.

A playlist you both had made months ago, meant only for cooking days, as Nia had instructed, played faintly in the background. You hummed along to the melody of a song you didn’t really know the name of, but had listened to it enough to mumble the lyrics, as you focused on cutting banana slices.

Nia was the one who brought up trying out a new fruit smoothie recipe she had found while scrolling around on Pinterest. She was pretty excited after coming home with the groceries, ready to start the process. Which is why seeing her sitting quietly as she glared at her phone was a big sign that something was wrong.

“I think Jordan is about to pull out on us,” she groaned loudly, locking her phone and throwing it on the counter, running her hands on her face, “I can’t believe this is happening a week before filming starts.”

“Oh, that’s not good news” you said, looking back at your friend’s defeated state in front of you as you threw the banana slices into the blender. “What happened?”

“He said he decided to go with his cousin to Ibiza.” Her arms muffled her voice as she lied on top of them, sighing once again, “this is the third one that leaves, I might as well just cancel the entire thing and fail this class.”

You rolled your eyes lightly at her, shaking your head as you listened to her dramatic reactions. Being her friend for as long as you have, you knew how stressed Nia got with a project, specially something she was passionate about. She was always too hard on herself, trying to push everything to be as perfect as possible, which is a good thing when you focused on the ultimate results. But she often tended to over-stress herself, and that’s what makes you worry.

With this one in particular, you could tell how excited she was from the day her teacher assigned it. She came back home and rambled for hours on end about making her first film. Which is why when she begged you to be part of it, and you couldn’t find it in your heart to say no.

It was a small production after all, it just being Nia and her partner Evan, whom you have known had gotten close to her in the past months. She assured it would a rather simple concept, with only two characters. The trickiest part being the fact that they would film it out of town, in a camp house that belonged to Nia’s aunt. You had agreed to it to make her happy, and with her promise of buying you chocolate muffins. Most uni students, however, didn’t seem as keen to sacrifice a week of their spring break as you were.

“You’re being dramatic Nia,” you reassured, turning on the blender and cringing at the loud noise that took over the place. “Maybe they just read on the script that they would have to kiss me a couple of times and got too nervous about it,” you tried to humor, raising your voice a bit before turning the processor off. Nia looked back at you with a serious expression, making you scoff, “calm down, grumpy pants, I’m sure Evan knows someone who can do the role, stop worrying.”

“All I do is worry, you know that,” she sighed, standing up to walk towards the cabinets behind you. She selected two matching cups that she had gotten for your birthday, one had Elsa printed on it, and the other Anna. You smiled as she placed them on the counter, knowing you always thought matching friendship objects were silly, but Nia loved it, so you loved it too. She looked vaguely at the blender, letting her shoulder weight down. “At least we have a banana smoothie.”

“And something else!” You said, jumping on your feet to get to the fridge and retrieved a tupperware. You held it in her direction and smiled, “leftover spaghetti from Joe’s!” you exclaimed, attempting to brighten her mood. She looked back at you, grabbing the container from your hands, as she tried to fight back a smile.

“Yes, how could I forget the leftover spaghetti?”

As the days passed by, the both of you had gotten more stressed out. Nia was still worried about everything related to her film project. With the days passing by and no one to fill the other role on the script, she found herself on a daily cycle of stress breakdowns.

Just two days after your former cast partner dropped out on the project to spend his week on the busy beaches of Ibiza, she had bought three different boxes of hair dyes. And as you helped her turn her hair into a light shade of pink, she cried about how everything seemed to go wrong in her life.

Meanwhile, you had been struggling to fight your procrastination tendencies and try to finish as much work as possible before spring break. A task that was showing itself to be extremely difficult, considering your mind seemed more focused on binge watching true crime shows on YouTube.

The blank document stared back at you from your computer screen, as you wished that if you looked at it for long enough, the essay would somehow write itself. Writing a couple of words but soon deleting them and going back to an empty page, you signed. Why was it so difficult to introduce a topic? You took a sip of the hot drink on the sparkly Cinderella mug you had chosen for the day, another one of Nia’s Disney-related possessions.

You frowned at the blank document, your failure to write a single paragraph still open in front of you. You heard a light knock on your bedroom door, but before you could even say anything, you spotted the already fading pink hair coming into the room.

Nia walked in jumping excitedly, saying your name in little squeals and almost tripping down as she made her way to sit on your bed in front of you. Breathing out, she looked at you with a big smile and messy hair before blurting out.

“We’ve got you a husband!” you stared back at her, arching your eyebrows. You knew she was referring to the role on the film, but you still laughed off at her choice of phrasing. “Evan got someone, it’s like his old friend or something, said he trusts him not to drop out.”

“Well, fourth time’s a charm, I guess?” you smiled at her.

“We’re planning a pizza night this Friday, so we can, you know, set the details and all that.” She properly lied down next to you, playing with the strings on the hem of your pajama shorts. “Also so you two can meet each other, of course, you’re going to be married for a week after all.”

“The way you say it seems like we’re actually doing it,” You laughed, finally closing your computer, and moving down to face her. “We’re just playing characters, Nia.”

“I know, I know… You’re really no fun, aren’t you?” She moved her arm up to support her head and poked you with her free hand as you rolled your eyes at her. “Also, he seems pretty cute, Evan showed me his picture, maybe you two can hit off.”

“I’m sure he is,” you tried not to fall for her attempt on teasing you over someone you don’t even know. Sure, you’ll be playing love interests, but you’ve done this plenty of times before, back on your theatre days. Kissing someone on stage doesn’t mean you have feelings for them in real life, and you knew that pretty well. You sighed, looking down at her, not wanting to engage into this kind of topic.

“Anyway, should we celebrate your new cast member and my inability to write a single sentence about art history?” you changed the subject, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. “We could watch Devil Wears Prada and make caramel popcorn.”

Nia gasped dramatically, “these are the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard coming from those pretty lips of yours,” jumping to her feet as she pulled you to stand with her. She then ran out of the room, screaming back, “I’ll get the blankets and you start with the popcorn!”

It’s been years since you’ve known Nia, but yet the dynamic between the two of you has never really changed. You’ve always considered yourself very lucky for having a friend like her in your life. From the day you met her in your English class, it was like seeing someone you had already known your entire life; it was always that easy to be with her.

You two became inseparable from day one.

Looking back, it’s crazy for you to realize how well your high school plans with each other had turned out. Most people you know had those friends in school they only really talked to because they saw them five times a week. But as soon as graduation came by they parted their ways and became only good nostalgic memories for one another. With the two of you, everything just worked out.

You both got into the university you wanted, ready to get matching art degrees. On your second year of college, you moved in together. And halfway through the course, Nia just dropped out to enroll on an eighteen months film school. And that’s when she met Nate.

You always knew she was destined to be that kind of person who just has one great love in her life. Which was funny considering that anyone who spent over five minutes with her and Nate in the same room could swear they would never work together. They just were those kinds of couples who are the polar opposite of each other.

Nia was a little social butterfly, who could start a conversation with anyone about anything. She could talk for hours with the old ladies at the grocery store about how the new brands of beans are just not as good as the ones not as well known. Or chat with the yoga moms about a new reality show that had premiered on Netflix. She loved experimenting on new things, trying out new recipes or mix distinct colors together on her clothes.

Nate, on the other hand, just wasn’t much of a talker at all. Since the start of their relationship, he often stops by at your apartment -wearing a different shade of grey every time - but it would be a lot to say that you two have had a conversation for longer than five minutes. He just mostly kept it to himself.

They balanced each other, which is why they worked so well.

It would be a lie for you to say you didn’t think about having something like that for you. You thought maybe you just weren’t the kind of person to have one meaningful relationship in your life. And that was okay. You’d like to think you’re better off on your own, anyway. But now and then you wondered how it would be to fall asleep in someone’s arms every day.

But you tried your best to keep those thoughts locked away in the back of your head. You knew that for the most part love is not really meant to last, Nia was just part of the lucky few.

The atmosphere in your shared apartment was cozy, as you waited for Evan and his friend to arrive before you started the pizza hangout, as Nia called it.

You both had spent the day tidying up the place, trying to decorate it a bit with some fairy lights and nice pillows you found in your room. It had been a long time since you had done any kind of social gathering in your home, and Nia wanted everything to be perfect. She even insisted on making the pizzas herself, which took most part of the afternoon, and a lot of bossing around on her part.

By the time the food was in the oven and the only thing left to do was wait, her boyfriend joined the two of you.

She was very talkative and bubbly, as she usually is, getting the wine bottles she selected for the evening and placing them on the counter as she chatted with him. It was nice seeing her back do being her usual self after such a stressful week.

You got the right amount of glasses, placing them next to the bottles, as you hummed along to the Declan Mckenna’s voice playing in the background. You weren’t really paying attention to Nia’s babbles, catching a word or two as she rambled about some dolphin documentary she had to watch for one of her classes. Pouring out a glass for yourself, you looked over to Nate who had a puzzled look on his face, as he tried to make sense of whatever rant his girlfriend had going on. You took a sip of your wine, and laughed lightly at yourself at the contrast between the two of them, something you had always found very amusing to observe. But before you could go further into your thoughts, the sound of the buzzer took over the small apartment.

“They’re here!” Nia gushed, as she quickly made her way out of the kitchen to get the front door, yelling back at you to get the pizzas out of the oven.

“Yes, ma’am,” you teased after she left, earning a light chuckle from Nate.

Making your way around the kitchen, you took out kitchen gloves that had figures of little chicks printed on them, giving one last check inside the oven to make sure everything was ready, before opening it and taking out the food. You could hear Nia greeting Evan excitedly in the background, as she rushed him and his friend to come inside. As their voices got closer, you turned your back to the entrance, concentrating on not burning yourself while you placed both pizzas on top of the counter.

“There’s our star!” You heard Evan’s loud voice taking over the kitchen space, making you look over your shoulder and laugh at him.

You turned around while taking off the gloves, as he pulled you into a tight hug, the strong scent of his cologne invading your nostrils. He wasn’t much taller than you, making him being considered short for a man. But his presence in a room was always so loud and bright that he seem much bigger than he actually is. You pulled back and looked at him, suddenly feeling underdressed in your own home. His entire outfit was bright red, being consisted of a jean jacket and silk pants, his eyes matching with vibrant eyeshadow taking over his whole eyelids.

“It’s very nice to see you again Evan,” you smiled at him, his hands still holding onto your shoulders as he looked warmly at you. “It’s been too long! You look fabulous!”

“Oh honey, you flatter me too much! It’s why I love coming here,” he scoffed playfully, coming to your side and wrapping one arm over your shoulder as he guided you. “But tonight is not about me, unfortunately. It’s about the two of you.”

As you finally moved your attention to the kitchen entrance, you realized another presence standing there. A man, who you assumed was Evan’s friend, already smirking down at you as both of you approached him.

You suddenly felt nervous under his stare while you could hear Evan commenting on something you didn’t really pay attention to. You had been taken completely by surprise by the man standing in front of you. Sure, Nia had mentioned to you once or twice that he was good looking, but you were not expecting this.

It was a weird feeling, being this affected by someone you had just met, but you would have to be blind not to notice. His face was beautiful, a sharp jawline contrasting his soft skin, his fingers poked at his bottom lip as he smirked, you could notice the hint of a dimple forming on his cheek. His hair was short, but still long enough to see the shape of slight curls forming in it, some locks falling charmingly against his forehead. But what hit you the most were his eyes, thanks to the dim lighting you couldn’t really tell if they were a shade of forest green or more of a hazel tone, but you could feel your cheeks warming up from the way he watched you as you got closer.

His shoulders were broad, as he was leaning against the entrance, the hand that wasn’t poking at his lip resting inside the pocket of his brown pair of trousers. He wore a blank white shirt, partly tucked in, underneath a beige cardigan. The sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, making you notice the tattoos hugging the skin of his arms. You felt a curious wish to know how many more you could find under all the layers of clothing..

As you and Evan got closer, he moved from his leaning position to stand tall in front of you. The smile never leaving his lips, and his eyes still watching you closely.

“So, darling, meet Harry,” Evan spoke up, gesturing you towards his friend. “He’s a pest, but I’m sure you’ll get along just fine”

“Way to give a first impression, E,” Harry rolled his eyes at his friend’s teasing, before turning his attention back to you. He moved closer, embracing you into a side hug “S lovely to meet you-”

You quickly cleared your throat, afraid that your voice would give you away, before saying your name. The attempt didn’t really seem to work, as your words came out higher than you had intended. You could feel Nia’s gaze turning to you on the corner of your eye, but tried your best to ignore it. He repeated it, before shooting a smile in your direction, the sound of his deep voice and the way his lips circled around the words making the hairs behind your neck rise.

“Okay! So how about we move this party to the living room?” Nia’s voice broke into the atmosphere. “Everyone can get their wine glasses and make themselves comfortable while y/n and I finish arranging the pizzas.”

She shot you a knowing look, before moving to get the wine bottles and handing them to Nate. Everyone shifted to get their glasses and settle in the other room, leaving you and Nia alone.

You moved to get the knives and looked at the pizzas standing on the counter in front of you, calculating how you could cut out even slices on each. You could see your friend from the corner of your eye leaning on the counter staring directly at you.

“You know you can’t fool me even for a second, miss,” she teased, you could hear the smirk on her voice.

“I’m not doing anything,” you murmured, still not looking in her direction. She scoffed, elbowing you lightly as she mimicked you, saying your name in a high-pitched voice. You shot her a dirty look before shushing her, afraid the guest in the other room could hear her teasing. “I didn’t sound like that!”

“Oh please! You should have seen how you looked at him!” She rolled her eyes at you, “thought you were gonna drop down on your knees right then and there!”

“Nia!” you screamed in a whisper, your cheeks warming up at her words as you pinched her, making her squeal. You quickly shot a look at the entrance to see if anyone might’ve heard her, but they seemed to be enrolled in their own conversation. “Let’s just get this done quickly before they suspect we’re in here for too long.”

“Okay, cheeky girl,” she bit her lip and moved to get a knife to cut one pizza, but still eyeing you with a slight smile, leaning in one last time, “but I told you he was cute.”

Eventually, the two of you finished sorting out the pizza slices and joined everyone in the living room. Nia then rushed to join her boyfriend on the loveseat, leaving the only spot available for you being between Harry and Evan on the couch. She shot you a teasing smile, but you tried your best to ignore it and focus on finishing the wine glass you had poured for yourself earlier.

“Okay, so I’m going to need everyone to eat the food and tell me how good it is,” Nia pointed out to the center table where the pieces of pizza laid upon, “I’ve spent the entire afternoon on these babies, so eat up!”

“You know that I’ve helped you with them, right?” you added, squinting your eyes at her, “some credit wouldn’t hurt.”

“You only laid the toppings on the dough so they would look even,” she snapped back pointing a finger at you, “I did all the hard work, so shush it.”

But before anyone could move to get a slice, Evan was already stretching out his arms to stop you from moving. “Wait a second,” he spoke, “I feel like I’ve watched enough seasons of MasterChef to be the first one to judge.”

“I mean, you are the best critic I know,” Nia pointed, leaning in to get a slice and offering to Evan, “but again, I don’t really know any other critics.” She humored as he took the food, making a show of analyzing it.

Everyone waited expectantly as Evan bit into the pizza slice, keeping a straight face that didn’t reveal much of his opinions. Nia leaned in his direction, nervously biting her bottom lip as she waited for his final verdict.

“You have to be honest,” she warned, observing him, “but know that I can get my feelings hurt pretty easily.”

“I don’t mind that,” Evan finally said, straightening his posture as he looked back to Nia’s waiting eyes, “I’ll say that it’s not the best pizza I’ve ever had,” he announced, “but it works.”

“You know what, I take it,” everyone laughed lightly as Nia visibly released a breath she had been holding in, “It’s not a bad review for a first time.”

The hours went by quickly as you eased into a conversation with everyone. It was nights like this you missed the most when the stress of all the accumulative work weighted on your shoulders. Having a more of a cool night to hangout with a few friends, drinking some wine and chatting about whatever topic came to mind.

As time passed, you could tell Nia and Evan got more agitated, probably due to the amount of wine they had consumed without even realizing. They chatted excitingly about Midsommar, their voices raising a bit too loud. But every time you tried to shush them, jokingly reminding of the neighbors next door, they would soon forget about it again. You watched them babble, giggling when they would get excited on a certain topic and start to trip over a few words.

You also felt lighter because of the alcohol, not as much as them, but still enough so you could feel your chest warmer and your mind a bit dizzy. You still felt an annoying tingle at the pit of your stomach when you felt Harry’s eyes fixating on you when you spoke, or when your hands brushed as you reached for the bottle at the center table. It was silly, and it made you feel like a teenager being in the presence of an attractive boy for the first time.

When it all quiet down eventually, Nia had dragged Evan to her room so he could give an insight on how she could decorate it. It was something she would do now and then, give her room a big renovation so the change in the space could make her more motivated, or something like that. Sometimes, if she felt inspired enough, she would change around the living area or even your own room - when you allowed her, of course.

Nate was still sitting on the loveseat looking like he was about to fall asleep at any moment as he scrolled through his phone. He hadn’t spoken a lot during the night, which wasn’t unusual for him, but he still managed to chat for a bit.

That left you and Harry alone sitting on the main couch, with one person less it left you enough space to cross your legs, making yourself more comfortable. He was sitting on his side, his back resting on the big pillows by the arm of the couch, his chest turned towards you.

You reached for the wine bottle at the center table, realizing there was just a bit left, enough for a last glass for the two of you. “Wanna help me finish it?” You turned to him with the bottle in your hand. He had a smile resting on his lips, as he raised his glass toward you so you could pour the liquid into it. You could tell his eyes were a bit cloudy, but you knew none of you had had enough to be drunk.

“Thank you, love,” he said, the raspiness on his voice as he spoke the pet name making the hairs in the back of your neck rise. You poured yourself the rest of the wine left, emptying the bottle as you settled it back where you got it. “Should we make a toast?”

“Sure,” you replied easily, smiling at him, “what should we toast for?”

He looked away, puckering his lips slightly as he made a puzzled expression, a hand scratching at his chin as if in deep thought. You giggled at his dramatics before he pointed his finger up, his face turning into a big smile. He raised his glass in your direction, as you did the same. “A toast for being husband and wife?”

You chuckled, clinking your glasses together, “that’s fair,” you said, “ ‘s why we’re here after all, isn’t it?” you joked, taking a sip of your drink before settling it down on your lap.

“Sure is,” he mimicked, rising his glass to his lips, a smirk still adorning them as he managed to not break eye contact. He took a small sip before settling his glass back on the table. He scratched the tip of his nose slightly with the side of his finger, before he relaxed back on the couch. “So” he spoke up, bringing your attention to him, “E told me you’re an actual actress,” he raised his eyebrows at you, “made me a bit nervous, love.”

“That right there is a lie,” you chuckled, biting your lip and shaking your head. “I used to do theatre back in the day, haven’t done any acting for years though.”

“A theatre kid, huh?” He laughed as you rolled your eyes jokingly.

“I’m aware we have a poor reputation, yes,” you said, “I reckon we deserve it, but we weren’t that bad, I promise.”

He giggled, making your heart skip a beat at the sound. His smile was something you could easily get used to, the way it formed crinkles in his eyes and the dimples deep on his cheeks. You had to stop yourself for staring too much, moving your gaze to the glass on your lap.

“People are too harsh on theatre kids,” he reassured, “I think it seems pretty fun — only time I did it was when I played Elvis when I was about five, I think.” He added, resting his arm against the couch, his hand just a few inches away from your shoulders. “Had the time o’my life though.”

“You got main character though, that’s impressive,” you expressed, raising a hand to poke at his side playfully. “Have you done anything since your big debut as the king?”

“Can’t say I have, no,” he chuckled, “guess this is my big comeback, maybe I’ll get a call from broadway soon.”

“I’m sure you will!” You giggled, taking another sip from the glass in your hand.

You found it easy to dive into a conversation with him. You were both giggly from the wine, but it still seemed like you could stay like this for hours on end, just talking to each other.

He told you he wasn’t planning on doing the film, considering he never really thought about acting. But when Evan asked him if he could be part of it, he saw how desperate he was to fill the role, so he agreed. It warmed your heart to hear how fondly he spoke about his friend, telling you how willing he was to help, even if it involved doing something out of his comfort zone.

You two bounded over your mutual wish to become teachers. You found out he was studying Literature, a choice that for him as an easy one, considering throughout his life he had always been an avid reader. He said no matter how harsh thing got, he always found an escape between books, you could tell how passionate he was about it as he spoke about his favorite reads.

Eventually, you could hear voices coming closer from Nia’s room, as they seemed to be gushing about the filming that was starting soon.

As Evan came into the room, he made his way to the couch, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulders. “Honey, as much as I wish we could stay here ‘til dawn, I’m afraid we must get going.”

With his declaration, everyone moved around to gather the dishes splattered across the center table to put it all at the kitchen counter. After some insisting -mostly on Harry’s part- on helping with cleaning, you convinced them you two could handle the task just fine. And they were the guests, after all.

Finally, you said your goodbyes, pulling Evan on a small hug, assuring him you’d do your best to do his script justice.

And as you came to face Harry, he leaned into a hug, giving you a last kiss on the cheek, before telling you how lovely it had been to meet you.

You had woken up with your door opening abruptly, making you jump a bit from the sudden change in the peaceful atmosphere from your deep slumber. Before you could process the situation in hand, Nia was already pulling out the covers and spitting out words at a faster pace than you could comprehend in your mind state.

“Get up already! We are very late,” She urged as you lazily scratched at your eyes before sitting up to look at her. “Evan is going to kill us!” She cried out.

Your head pounded slightly, making you search for your water bottle previously prompted by yourself the night before, knowing you would need it in the morning. You reached for it in your nightstand, taking big gulps as you watched amusingly Nia run around your room picking random clothes and throwing it in a duffel bag you had just noticed.

Resting the bottle down on your lap, you yawned lightly, still in the process of waking up. “Calm down Ni,” you mumbled, “We still have time, we’re only leaving at like, two.”

She looked back at you as if you had just slapped her across the face, your shirt falling partly from her hand. “It’s already one,” she informed, making your eyes bulge as you reached to check on your phone, confirming as it read 1:16pm. “We don’t even have our bags packed AND we got a sink full of dishes to wash.”

The minutes after that were rushed, as you two did your best to get ready as fast as possible. Mentally slapping yourself for leaving everything for the last minute, but still managing to pack your bag in record speed.

But as time passed and the list of things to do was still far from over, Nia phoned Evan and let him know you would need a few more hours to be ready to leave. To say he wasn’t the happiest about the news was an understanding, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

A couple hours later you were finally packed, and after a quick stop to shop for road trip snacks you were off on the road.

You left much later than planned, and even if it wasn’t that much of a long drive, it was still 3 hours until you got there. The ride itself was mostly quiet, except from Lorde’s Melodrama playing softly in the background. You hummed along to the words, but apart from that there wasn’t a lot of talking between the two of you, all due to the limited amount of sleep you got from the previous night.

As you got closer, the scenery of open grass camps and blooming flowers at the peak of spring was a peaceful change of scene from the busy city streets you were used to. And when you finally got to the house, the sun was almost setting on the horizon. The sky being a satisfying mixture of blue and orange. There was a car already parked in, and as you got closer, you could see two figures sitting on the front stairs.

Getting out of the car, you quickly made your way to where they stood. “Have you been waiting long?” Nia asked as you got closer to them.

“Longer than I was planning to, I’ll say that,” Evan replied, taking off his sunglasses to greet you.

Harry came up from behind him, looking incredibly cozy wearing a knitted cream sweater. It took everything in you not to nuzzle on him as he met you with a quick embrace. You had to focus on keeping your breathing steady as you looked up at him when you parted. The sun coming from behind you doing wonders as it hit his face perfectly. His eyes were the prettiest shade of green as he smiled down at you before moving to greet Nia.

“We’ve been here fo’ ten minutes, don’t listen to him,” he assured with a small laugh.

The house itself was much bigger than you expected, it wasn’t huge, by any means, but you had pictured a small cottage with barely any space for the four of you. The place, however, was big enough for you to have your privacy but still small enough to feel cozy and welcoming.

You quickly found there were three rooms, and despite you arguing you didn’t mind sharing one with Nia, considering you two lived together, she still insisted that you and Harry had your own bedrooms. It was her way of thanking you for agreeing to help them.

After you got established in your respective room, you met everyone down at the kitchen. The place was loud with chatter as they played around while making dinner. Nia seemed to boss the boys around to cut the vegetables properly, as she concentrated on figuring out how to work the old stove. They laughed lightly as she cussed under her breath in frustration after another failed attempt. You watched quietly for a moment, before joining in to help her.

You finally turned the stove on with the help of a few matches you found laying on the counter, being able to cook with no more trouble. It was already getting late when you finished eating and gathered the dishes to lay them on the sink. Still, Nia insisted on watching one of the movies she had carefully selected on her extended collections of DvDs to bring with her.

You decided to make yourself some tea while the rest of them moved around to arrange themselves for the movie night. After offering if anyone else wanted a cup as well, you were met with Harry’s warm smile as he accepted shyly.

Soon enough everyone settled down on the big couch to watch the movie. Evan took his place on one of the armchairs, while Harry opted to sit by the end of the couch, setting his legs on the footrest in front of him. As you walked in with your mugs, he gazed up at you, shooting a soft smile and muttering a quick ‘thank you’ as you handed him his drink.

He patted the spot next to him, indicating for you to sit, to which you happily obliged.

“Wanna share?” he asked, holding up a blanket that lied at the arm of the couch. “There’s jus’ three of ‘em.”

“Sure,” you replied, moving to pull the blanket, so it was covering the two of you. You knew very well you could always get an extra one from one of the bedrooms, but you would never bring yourself to suggest it.

Finally, Nia entered the room with a small pack of m&m’s on one of her hands and the DvD case for ‘Love Actually’ on the other. She was quick to insert it on the player before settling down next to you. Pulling out the leftover blanket for herself, she lied down to rest her head comfortably on top of your legs.

It didn’t take long until she fell in deep slumber, cuddling up on your lap as soft snores left her lips. You pouted slightly down at her. The poor thing was exhausted from driving all the way, and the bad night of sleep the day before.

As the movie progressed, you could feel your eyelids getting heavier as well, the words coming from Keira Knightley’s mouth becoming more of a background noise as you fought to keep yourself awake. But before you could doze off, you felt Harry shifting slightly next to you. Suddenly feeling his arm hugging your shoulders, as he gently pulled you closer.

You moved your head to look at him but before you could say anything he shushed you softly and pulled you back in. “ ‘S fine, love,” he whispered, “can see that you’re tired.”

And with a half-woken mind and heavy eyelids you laid back on his shoulder and allowed yourself to snooze.

You woke up with him shifting again from under you, opening your eyes slowly to find the end credits rolling up the screen in front of you. You yawned lightly before sitting up, being careful not to wake a still-very-much-asleep Nia on your lap.

“Sorry,” you heard Harry say as you scratched at your eyes, “didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s fine,” you assured, your voice a bit raspy from your nap, “would have to happen, eventually.” You looked down at the unconscious girl lying on you, knowing you had to get her to bed so she could sleep properly. “We should wake her.”

“Want me to carry her to her room?” he asked.

“I think she’ll be okay,” you replied, gently calling her name so she could slowly wake up.

Surely, it didn’t take a lot of coaxing to get her eyelid to flutter open, as she lazily rose from her sleep.

You helped her to her room, afraid she’d trip down the stair in her hazy state of mind, still half asleep as she dragged her feet across the floor.

As soon as she laid down in her bed, you made your way back to the kitchen to fix yourself a glass of water so you could go to sleep.

It surprised you to find Harry still awake as you entered the space; he looked up at you from his position leaning on the counter with his phone in his hand. Quickly placing it in his back pocket as he saw you coming in, giving you a slight smile. “Thought you’d gone to bed.”

You reached for the cabinet Nia had pointed you to earlier where the cups were placed, picking one with little thought and closing it. “Just came here for a glass of water,” you spoke, moving the cup under the tap, “always have one next to my bed, y’know, in case I get thirsty and stuff.” You shook your head slightly, not wanting to ramble about the benefits of staying hydrated during the night just to make a conversation.

“Smart girl,” he joked, causing you to chuckle as you felt blush creeping out on your cheeks. You could see him coming closer to stand next to you from the corner of your eye, which didn’t help the tingly feeling forming at the pit of your stomach. “Excited fo’ tomorrow?” he asked, crossing his arms on top of the counter as he leaned next to you.

“Guess I am,” you answered, looking up at him and finding he was closer than you had realized. You smiled nervously as you met his eyes gazing down at you, before clearing your throat lightly. “What about you?”

“To be honest ‘m a bit nervous, love,” he confessed.

“Why’s that?”

“I mean,” he started, his eyes still fixed on you, “ ‘s not every day I get to pretend ‘m married to a pretty girl like you.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat as he reached one of his hands to move a strand of your hair behind your ear. He kept his hand on your cheek just as his eyes seemed to gaze down at your lips, so subtly that it felt like you might’ve imagined it.

The silence in the room was loud as you could almost hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, as he leaned down just barely, getting closer to you. He looked down one more time at your lips, this time making sure you realized the unspoken question behind that action. You suddenly felt water pouring through your fingers, as the forgotten cup in your hand overflowed. This caused you to jump back a bit, quickly turning the tap off and resting the glass on the counter.

“Oh my god,” you squeak, reaching out for a towel right next to the sink to dry your hand. “I’m sorry, that was-” you chuckled, glancing at Harry who seemed to watch you with an amused expression. “That was awkward, sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” He assured, picking the full glass and moving it in the counter so it was out of your reach. “ ‘t was actually quite cute,” he moved closer to you again, reaching his hand to hold at your jawline.

You held back your breath as you felt his own hitting the top of your upper lip, your noses brushing slightly.

“Been wanting to do this fo’ a bit now, love,” he spoke a bit above a whisper, his deep voice sending chills down your spine and making you grab at his sweater, ”would you let me?” his thumb caressed your cheek lovingly, “would you let me kiss you?”

You could feel your heart beating strongly against your rib cages, swallowing hard as you looked up at him. He was watching you closely, his dark emerald irises gazing down at you as your lips barely brushed. You nodded at him, trying to pull him closer.

“Use your words, darling,” he insisted, not budging from his position. “Wanna hear you say it.”

“Please, Harry I-” you moved your hand to grasp on his waist, “just —kiss me.”

Giving a satisfied hum, he finally leaned down, closing the space between the two of you. His hand remained stroking your cheek softly, as the other sneaked under your neck.

He moved his lips ever so slightly, his cupid bow founding its way above your inner lip, sucking on it gently. The kiss was teasingly slow, making you hyper aware of all of your senses. Your hands feeling the soft fabric of his sweater, grabbing at it as if asking for more.

He moved the hand on your neck, pulling gently at your hair, making you angle your head up a bit. As his tongue poked to lick at your bottom lip, you opened your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You stayed like this for a while, pressed against the kitchen wall as you enjoyed the taste of each other.

When you pulled back, he splattered a few kisses along your cheek, giving one last peck on your mouth before pulling back.

“As much as I don’t want to end this now,” he muttered, moving his hand, so they were both holding your cheeks, “We should get some sleep fo’ tomorrow.”

“We should,” you agreed.

“We’ll get the chance to do this again,” he said, making you bite down a smile at the innuendo behind his words.

He gave you one last kiss before pulling away completely, reaching for the glass of water you had already forgotten about on the counter and handing it to you.

You walked back to your rooms without saying a word, but still sharing glances and smiles along the way. And as you got to your respective rooms, you whispered quiet good nights before parting ways and closing the door behind you.

The days that followed were rushed, considering the filming had officially started. You two barely had the chance to be alone again, which was disappointing. But still you couldn’t find yourself time to miss the feel of having his soft lips against yours, considering the scenes you had with each other. What you did miss was being able to kiss him without it being written in a piece of paper, or having someone from outside tell you to. You missed the intimacy of feeling his tongue meet your own and having his hands pulling you close as you both craved for more. You missed the shared secret between just the two of you, that was knowing how it felt to have him all to yourself.

It was discomforting, earning for someone you barely even know. Jumping into a feeling you know there’s no way can end well. You both were playing characters. Lovers, yes, but it was all pretend. It didn’t help that he was so good at it. In front of the cameras he would be so loving that you often wondered how much of it was just part of the act.

It was subtle things that made you think of it, like a glance across the room between takes. Him leaning close to you every time they called you to watch back something you had just recorded. Or when he sucked in your lip during a scene, so softly you could barely notice but still made your heart skip a beat.

But as much as it was nice to pretend that you two had some shared secret, you knew that the most likely scenario was that he was just doing his work and being friendly. So you tried your best to convince yourself that all of it was just your mind playing tricks, this way you could prevent yourself from inevitably getting hurt. That encounter in the kitchen was most likely his way of making things less awkward to when you inevitably would have to do it in front of a camera. That was it, nothing more.

It seemed to have worked pretty well, you two had the chemistry Evan hoped for when he wrote his script. Nia kept teasing you with every given opportunity. You didn’t tell her about the late night kitchen situation, but you knew she could sense the ‘chemistry’ was not simply because you two were just that good at acting. No one was complaining though, considering everything was going so smoothly they suspected it could be wrapped up even earlier than expected.

Every time they would mention the possibility, you found yourself wishing deep down something would set you back on the schedule. You felt bad for it, and you never voice your inner thoughts, but you knew wrapping up early meant going home early, and you were getting a bit too comfortable getting to act all loved up on camera.

As if some kind of outer force had listened to your wishes, just as you were halfway throughout the week, mother nature seemed to be your biggest ally.

You had just woken up with the annoying tune of your alarm clock, one you had chosen for finding it soothing at first. But you soon found that those sounds are not meant to feel soothing at all, as it woke you from your deep slumber. You were quick to turn it off before rubbing your eyes softly and enjoying the warmth of your bed for a few more minutes. You could hear the gentle sounds of raindrops hitting your window, but barely paid any attention to it as you rose lazily, stretching your arms above your head.

Making your way down the stairs you first noticed Evan standing by the big window in the living room, looking out with a hand resting on his hip and the other one holding a mug. Behind him, in one of the armchairs, sat Harry, also drinking out of a mug as he read a book quietly. But as if he felt your presence as you got to the bottom of the staircase, he looked up, smiling at you as you made your way into the room.

“G’morning,” he spoke, alerting the man by the window of your presence as he turned around to look at you.

“Good morning,” you said back, before realizing the worried expression on Evan’s face, “is everything okay?”

“A disaster just happened, honey, look out the windows!” he snapped, gesturing behind him where you could see the rain hitting the glass. The sky was dark with clouds, suggesting it was just the beginning of the storm that was to come. You looked back with a puzzled expression, knowing the weather was not the best, but as far as you remembered you had already shot all the scenes you needed outside. Evan rolled his eyes, “our natural light is gone, honey, it’s too dark to shoot!” he barked.

“Hey, no need to yell at her like tha’,” Harry looked back at his friend, attempting to calm him down, “ ‘s fine, we were early on schedule anyway, one day is not gonna delay it.”

He shot a look at Harry, his hand finding its way back on his waist as he let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry, this is just incredibly frustrating.”

You smiled at him to assure it was fine, knowing how much stress he was putting on because of this project. “Doesn’t Nia have one of those light things you were using the other day to make the scene brighter?” You suggested.

Evan sighed, “that’s a reflector, it just— well, reflects the light, we would need the sun for it to work, and seems like she’s not showing her face anytime soon,” he weightened his shoulders down, clearly feeling defeated. “I guess today is our off day — we should use it to pray for sunlight tomorrow, otherwise I’m pulling my hair off.”

When Nia woke up, you could tell she was not happy at all with the news that filming had to be cancelled for the time being. She spent the whole breakfast whining and crying about the poor weather. You tried your best to console her, but knowing your friend you knew her dramatics showed off when she worried about something. She tended to overthink every scenario that could go wrong, which did nothing to help the pressure she put on herself.

The day went on as eventless as it possibly could, the rain outside just seeming to get angrier as time passed by. You did your best to distract Nia from her own head, asking her about the recent documentaries she had watched, knowing she could go on tangents for hours. You talked about crime shows you have started before filming and shared different theories you had on them. You even listened to her deep analysis of trashy reality shows she loved to watch and always tried to drag you to get into it.

You talked and talked with no end, considering there wasn’t much else to do. Nia’s aunt hated computers and refused to install any kind of wifi, leaving you with a shitty connection that barely loaded a five-minute video.

As the evening came by, and the raindrops still hit angrily at the windows, you decided to watch another movie — this time it was Evan’s choice of Freaky Friday.

You volunteered to grab the blankets from the cabinets on the second floor, while Nia excitedly announced she would make popcorn for everyone.

Quickly moving along the hallway, you made your way in front of the doors and opened them. You could hear footsteps coming up the stairs as you tiptoed to reach the top shelf where the soft blanket you had used the first night lied on top of.

“Need help?” You heard a voice approach, looking over your shoulder to find Harry walking towards you with an amused expression on his face. You nodded, chuckling as you quickly stepped out of the way to allow him to take your place. He reached up, easily retrieving the blanket and giving it to you.

“Thank you,” you muttered, looking up at him for a moment.

“No problem, darlin’,” he said, fetching two other blankets before closing one door with a swing of his hip. You closed the other one with a small giggle. You started to quietly move along towards the staircase when he cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him. He kept his gaze down before speaking softly, “After the movie, think I’ll go back to my room a bit early,” he looked at you for a moment, “ ‘f you want to join me.”

You stopped walking to look at him arching your eyebrows surprised, not expecting this kind of proposal at this moment. He stopped a step ahead of you, staring back with nervous eyes and shooting you a shy smile. “I’m not saying we have to do anything, I just-” he spluttered, “just wanted to be with you, without the camera and stuff.”

You smiled at him, “of course,” you voiced, “sounds nice.”

Shortly, you found yourself in the same position as the first day. Sharing a blanket with Harry, but this time Nia was wide awake next to you with a bucket of popcorn plopped on her lap. Some people would consider her to be the worst kind of person to watch movies with, considering she would always get too excited and comment on every scene she could. You had gotten so used to it with time, that it felt weird watching a movie without her voice interrupting a scene every five minutes.

It got hard to concentrate on this one in particular, and not because of Nia’s speaking over the lines, but the sudden feeling of Harry’s hand resting on your knee halfway through it. Your legs were crossed on top of the couch, making part of it rest slightly on top of his as he eased his thumb over your skin.

As time passed, he moved his hand up a bit, finding its final place on your inner thigh, causing goosebumps to arise on the back of your neck as he caressed it softly. You caught yourself holding your breath multiple times, something he was also probably aware of, considering the position of his arm on the side of your chest.

The tension between you two was almost palpable as the end credits rolled up. At that point you had prompted yourself to lean your head on his shoulders. He grasped your skin slightly before removing his hand and motioning his position to get up, making you pull back from him.

“‘m going back to my room now,” he announced as he got up, shooting you a knowing look, “g’night.”

You stayed back for a few minutes so as not to look too suspicious, folding up the blanket you had used and scrolling through your phone for a bit. Not long after you excused yourself, climbing the stairs two steps at a time.

You found him in the hallway, leaning in on the wall right next to his door as he looked down on his phone. As he felt your presence he gazed up, grinning softly before bringing his finger above his lips as to warn you to stay quiet.

The two rushed inside his room, trying to be as quiet as possible, considering your friends downstairs could come up at any second. He closed the door behind him, looking right at you as he leaned back. His room was similar to yours, the difference being a few more clothes lying on top of the small couch standing at the corner. The curtains hanging on the big windows were pushed open, allowing the moonlight from the now-clear sky to illuminate the place.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you stared back at him, meeting his dark irises. He started stepping closer to you until he could lean his forehead against yours. His hands found their way caressing your jawline, one of them going as far as to pulling lightly on the hair above your neck. You held your breath, gazing up at him as you waited for his next move.

He smiled lazily, brushing his nose against your softly before placing a peck to the corner of your lips. He was teasing you, his hand leaving your hair to find its way down your body, paying special attention to the side of your breast before placing itself holding your waist.

You swallowed dryly, feeling your heart speed up as you pulled him closer, wanting desperately to close the space between the two of you. Too scared that your voice would give out your desperation, you moved one of your hands to the back of his neck and pulled him in. He didn’t think twice before finally closing the space and allowing you to feel his lips against yours.

The kiss started slow, both of you still trying to figure it out how it was to taste each other like this. His lips were soft, moving teasingly as he sucked on your bottom lip. Your hand pulled his hair gently, causing him to whine into mouth, licking at your tongue as he deepened the kiss. The hand on your waist moved up, caressing the side of your breast softly as he tried to pull you in as close as possible.

He started easing you backwards, considering neither of you were willing to break the kiss to watch where you were going. You felt the mattress of his bed hitting the back of your knees. You allowed him to lay you into the bed, parting for a moment so you could move upwards, laying your head on the pillows. Shortly enough he joined you, placing his elbows on both sides of your head, not wasting any time before closing the space between your mouths again.

The two of you stayed like this for a while. Slowly kissing each other, as your arm found its way back behind his neck and one of his hand caressed your cheek. You could get used to this, with him being the only thing you could sense. His taste. His touch. His scent.

He was all you could think about.

When you finally pulled back, you could see his red, puffy lips even with the limited amount of lighting going into the room.

He looked into your eyes for a moment, “you look so pretty like this, darling,” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper, sending chills down your spine. “Could eat you up.”

A small whimper left your mouth, as he dove back in to spread kissed along your cheek and down your throat. You bit hard into your lip and swallowed back a moan as he sucked in a spot right below your jawline. You could feel him grinding his hips down on your tights, making you aware of the growing bulge inside his sweats.

You placed your hand on his shoulders, pushing him gently and disconnecting him from your neck. He pulled back, looking back at you with a puzzled look. You kept pushing him until his shoulders hit the mattress, reverting the previous position you both were in, as you stranded his waist.

Looking down at him, you wanted so badly to discover his body, to make him feel good. So you took the same position he had on you. Placing your lips against his neck and running your tongue against it, sucking in his skin. You kept doing it as your hand smoothed down his body, finding the hem of his shirt and lifting it enough so you could scratch at his love handles. He gave you a small moan, a sound so delicious to hear you that made you want to swallow him whole.

Both his hands found their place on your waist, pressing you down so you could feel his need between your tights. You quickly pulled your head from his neck, giving him a soft peck on the lips.

“Please, love, just-” he grunted, looking up at you with pleading eyes. “Just do something, please, I-“

His hands gripped tightly on your waist as you rolled your hips against him. Neither of you could contain your moans as you repeated the movement, even fully clothed his bulge rubbed deliciously against the place you needed it the most.

You leaned down again, this time pushing his shirt up as you made your way down his body, splattering open-mouthed kisses along his warm chest. You paid a special mind to the tattoos you met along the way, sucking spots over the wings of a butterfly inked on his stomach. As you licked along the leaves of the ferns that adorned his love handles, you felt one of his hands tangling in your hair, his hips rising slightly as he whimpered.

“A bit impatient, you are,” you spoke, feeling his belly tighten as you placed a playful bite under his belly button, causing another moan to leave his lips.

“Darlin’, please,” he whined, “Just- fuck, just need you right now.”

You decided not to tease him for too long, considering you needed it just as much as he did. Finally, you moved down once more to place a kiss above the hard on over his pants. He lifted his head, watching your every move as his hand that was placed on your hair pushed some strands away from your forehead. You wrapped your hand around the hem of his sweats, rising your eyebrows at him as you felt he wasn’t wearing any underpants. The thought of having such easy access to him making you press your thighs together, feeling your wetness already damping your underwear

Slowly, you bit your bottom lip, keeping your gaze focused on him as you moved his sweats down, he raised his hips as to help you out. Once his cock was fully out, you stared back down at it lying proudly against his stomach. You ran your fingers gently along his length, causing him to hold his breath, his abdomen tightening once more. He was definitely bigger than anyone you had ever been with, causing your mouth to water a bit and your thighs to press together once again at the thought of fully having him.

You could feel him peering down at you as you wrapped your hands around the base and applied the smallest amount of pressure. The precum was already escaping from the tip and sliding down the tiniest bit.

Moving your head forward you looked back at his waiting eyes, spitting on top of the head as you moved your hand up caressing it. This time he gave you an actual moan, throwing his head back at the pillows behind him.

Looking down at him, you didn’t know where to place your lips first, wanting to bite and lick every part of his body. Finally deciding on sucking a spot on his thigh, right next to where rested an ink of a tiger head.

You kept the movement of your hand, twisting it and applying more pressure eventually as you watched him shift around under you. He raised his hips slightly as he pleaded under his breath for more, his hand firmly on top of your head as the other was thrown above his own.

You moved your thumb to run across his slit, caressing the head with a flick of your wrist as you moved your mouth to place kisses at the base. At this point he became a moaning mess, throwing his arm over his mouth as to muffle the sounds while you licked up his shaft.

“God- fuck- such a good girl,” he moaned on his arm, moving it out of the way so he could look down at you. “Doing so good, you feel so good- shit.”

Smiling at him, you jerked him off a couple of times before resting your hand at the base so you could replace it with your mouth.

You licked around his head, giving it a small kiss before you moved down as far as you could go. He cried out, tightening his grip on your hair and moving his hips up to meet your movements as you sucked on him.

He was desperate to reach his climax, and you were desperate to see him cum undone under your touch. So you started speeding up, your mouth licking at his veins, your hand helping you as you moved it along his dick. He was cursing and moaning over you, pleading for you not to stop. You kept moving your hand as you licked at his head once more before detaching so you could look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Almost there?” you asked, having him nod frantically at you, “will you let me have a taste?”

That seemed to do it for him, as he pushed your head back down, making you attach your lips to his head as you felt him shoot his load inside your mouth. You milked him as he came down from his high, feeling his softness on your lips as you swallowed down.

You sat up and looked down at his hazy eyes while he calmed down with heavy breaths. He adjusted his sweats quickly before moving himself up to pull you in for a frantic kiss. “God, darling, you’re a dream,” he spoke between kisses, his hands gripping at your waist as he positioned you to lie on top of him, moving one of them under your shirt, pulling it up slowly.

You quickly placed your hand on top of his stopping him from going further as you detached from him. He furrowed his brows at you. “I should go back to my room,” you said, “got an early day tomorrow.”

He gave you a puzzled look, “but you still haven’t- “

“it’s okay,” you interrupted, moving to get up from his bed, suddenly feeling nervous under his gaze, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Good night!”

You left his room before he could protest, wanting to slap yourself from running away like this.

The next morning was thankfully much brighter than the one before, with sunlight shining through the windows at the earliest hours. You didn’t get a lot of sleep, tossing and turning around, replaying the previous night in your head. The thought of what could’ve happened if you had stayed imprinted itself in your mind. You started to overthink it. What did he even think of you? After running away like that?

Your thoughts consumed you as you sat in of the stools in the kitchen by yourself, for the first time being the first to be awake. Your coffee running cold by the minute, as you frowned to yourself, taking a sip every so often.

It didn’t take long until you didn’t find yourself alone anymore, having Evan join you as he happily cheered about the nice weather. You nodded along to him, not really in the mood for talking as you anxiously poked at your nails.

It was when you walked towards the sink to wash your used mug that you saw Harry walking into the kitchen. His hair messy and his eyes sleepy, making you annoyed at how charming he managed to look even after just getting out of bed.

He greeted you with a raspiness to his voice, his eyes lingering on you a moment too long as he smirked before moving to the cabinets. He stood next to you while you washed the dishes, grabbing himself a bowl while he worked on his breakfast.

Yours arms would brush every so often as you moved while doing your tasks, making you gaze at him. He kept a grin sitting on his face as he casually made a conversation with Evan, his dimple poking out the smallest bit, but still not looking back at you.

As soon as you were finished you left for your bedroom so you could get ready for the day, but not before sparing one last glance at Harry. This time his eyes were already trained on you as he chewed slowly his fruit salad. You felt your cheeks getting a bit warm from the eye contact, making you look down and leave the room with a speeding heart.

The work started early, as you ran around to keep up with the schedule after losing one day of productivity.

Harry seemed to be in it for teasing you. His touches lingered longer than needed. His kisses were harsher, the need behind them being almost palpable. His gaze on you told you something you couldn’t really tell exactly what it was. Lust? Desire? You weren’t entirely sure, but every time you caught him watching you felt a warmth take over your face.

In one occasion, between takes, as Nia and Evan discussed the best position for the camera considering her broken tripod. You stood awkwardly waiting for their instructions as you played with the hem of your dress. You could feel him staring closely, looking up to find him with the same smirk he gave you in the morning. He looked quickly over your friends who were still trying to figure out the problem before leaning up close to you “Still haven’t let me have a taste, love,” he said quiet enough to that just you could hear, the words sending a chill down your spine and making your core twitch as you glanced back at him.

That same night, after you announced you’d tuck yourself in, just as you changed into your pajama shorts, you heard a soft knock on your door. You opened up to see his darkened irises staring back at you as he quietly let himself in. And within a few minutes he found his place between your legs, your hand gripping tightly at his curls as you moaned into your pillow.

The following day wasn’t much different, starting with a tight filming schedule that was coming to a close end. An exchanging of glances across the room and yearning touches with underlying motives behind them. Ending with you lurking into his room at the dark hours of the night, craving-filled touched and muffled moans.

The wrap up of the film was welcomed with a bittersweet feeling settling itself in the pit of your stomach. Knowing as much as you were glad everything had gone as smoothly as possible during this week, it was time to leave it all behind.

You were nervous about how it would be with Harry after you got home. Was this the start of something that could potentially become a warm and beautiful feeling? Or was it just a lust-filled affair that would end as quickly as it had started? It made you anxious to think about it, not wanting to let go of it just yet.

Nia walked into the living room with two champagne bottles that had been brought up for this exact moment. The atmosphere was filled with chatter as everyone celebrated the end of the hard work.

You were dressed in the fanciest clothes you had brought on your rushed-packed bag, which consisted itself in a black blouse and a loose pair of pants you stole from Nia’s wardrobe a couple weeks prior. But you once again could not compete with Evan’s sense of style, as he seemed right out of a cover with a hot pink turtleneck under a sparkly black dress that hung all the way to his feet.

But you still couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.

You watched as he laughed along at something that had been said, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before fixing on Nia as she offered to serve him the champagne she had just opened.

He looked so good.

Like you, he didn’t opt for a very glam look, wearing a simple graphic white tee with a rainbow printed on it, and a simple pair of checked trousers. But as plain as someone could argue it was, he still managed to look incredibly inviting, which made it harder for you not to latch yourself onto him.

You were coming into your sixth or seventh glass when it all died down. Your head was fuzzy, and you felt giggly as you cheered along with everyone about the successful week you had. Nia had already gone back to her room. She didn’t drink as much considering she would have to drive early in the morning, wanting to leave most of the celebration for the premiere day.

The glances stolen between you and Harry were getting more frequent, the longing in each other's eyes visible with the effect of the alcohol.

He had you pressed up against your bedroom door as he sucked in your bottom lip harshly. His hands gripped at your waist tightly, putting his weight against you.

You wrapped your hand around his neck as the other pulled at his shirt desperately with the need of having him close. You felt overwhelmed by him in the nicest way. Having his hips pressing against your own, making you open your tights slightly as you felt his arousal straining on his trousers.

You whimpered into his mouth at the feeling, suddenly needing him as close as possible. You could tell his desperation matched your own by the way his hand pressed on the side of your body and his mouth moved against you. His groans getting lost in your throat every time you tangled your fingers on his roots, pulling at it.

“You’re gonna kill me like this, baby,” he breathed out, his lips moving against your wanting ones, “so fuckin’beautiful.”

You tried to keep your shaky hands steady as they travelled down his chest, scratching as his tummy lightly under his shirt before you began pulling it up. He detached from you to quickly reach over his shoulders and pull it off completely. He didn’t waste any time bringing his hand to unbutton your blouse, peppering kisses along your lips as he moved it down your shoulders, only to be met with your bare breasts underneath.

“Fuck me,” he groaned staring down at you, attaching your lips once again as he pulled you from the door as he fiddled with the zipper of your pants. You stumbled on each other's arms across the floor until you were met with the plush feeling of the bedcovers on the back of your thighs.

You stepped out of your pants as they got loose around your waist and fell damply to the floor, allowing Harry to push you gently into the mattress. He quickly got rid of his own trousers, wasting no time before towering above you, connecting your mouths once again.

It was like no matter how close you were, it still wasn’t good enough to satisfy the craving you had. You still wanted more. Needed more.

He was fully licking into you, his hands gripping your tights as he rolled his hips to meet yours. You moaned in unison at the feeling of your arousals meeting deliciously as he repeated the movement once more before parting your mouths so he could spread kisses along your neck.

“Harry,” you breathed out his name, dragging your nails along his back as you moved your hips up eagerly.

He moved his head from your neck o hover above yours, licking his lips teasingly as he looked down at you with dark eyes. He moved one of his hands to caress your cheek lovingly, as the other found your breast, his thumb grazing over your nipple. “Can I have a taste, baby?” he leaned his forehead against your, not breaking eye contact, “just a fo’a bit, then you can have me.”

You nodded frantically, brushing your nose against his. He gave you one last peck on the lips before moving down again to lick down at your skin. He pressed open-mouthed kisses at your chest, sucking harshly between your breasts. His tongue moved along your belly, craving his finger into it playfully like you had done to him, making you squeal above him.

He finally settled down between your thighs, his hand gripping at them to keep it apart before moving teasingly slow to the hem of your underwear. Your breath got caught in your throat as you moved up to lean on your elbows, gazing at him, hyper-aware of his every move.

He looked up, grinning like a devil, before moving his face down to nose gently at your mound. Pulling away, he pressed his hands on your sides, sliding your underwear off your legs as you helped him, raising your hips slightly.

You whimpered as you felt him kiss along your inner thigh, meeting your middle as licked you once. Your hips raised impatiently, making him smirk at you again before completely diving in.

You got lost in the pleasure as he licked his tongue into you, letting yourself fall back in the cushions behind your head. Your hand moved to grip at his hair tightly as he sucked in your clit, making you yelp and call out his name. His mouth was warm as his saliva mixed with your own wetness every time he licked into you.

Feeling your arousal pooling on your folds, you desperately needed to feel him as close as possible. Wanting every inch of him against you.

You pushed him from you, grabbing at his shoulder so he could move up to face you again. He didn’t protest, spattering quick kisses along the way before pressing his mouth against yours. The taste of champagne still lingering on your tongue mixed with your own taste on his as he licked into your mouth.

“y’taste so good, baby,” he groaned, parting from you as he moved to remove his briefs. The limited amount of light illuminated his face beautifully, making you able to notice the glistening of your juices down his chin. You felt your core twitch at the scene above you, desperate to have him fill you up.

“Please,” you urged him, grabbing at his hips to pull him down.

“Can I have you, darlin’?” His voice was raspy, as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, “‘d you let me?”

Your arousal blurred your mind, your grip on his waist tightened as you raised your hips impatiently, nodding along to his question.

“Have to hear you say it, love,” he spoke, leaning down to place kisses along your neck, “just say it, and you’ll have me.”

“You can have me, please, I-” you moaned desperately, babbling words without thinking, “I need you, please.”

He raised his head from your shoulders, giving you a quick peck before reaching down to guide his length between your folds. Your belly tensed as he rubbed his head against your clit, holding back your breath as he finally slid in you.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he choked, pushing his hips all the way, allowing you to feel every inch of him fill you up. You breathed out a moan, reaching your hand on his back. “‘s this all fo’ me?”

You whined out a ‘yes’, rolling your hips as a way of urging him to move.

His movements began slow, his cock rubbing heavenly against your walls, making you clench around him. You both moaned and whimpered as your lips brushed.

“Can feel me deep?” He asked, resting his forehead against yours as he pushed his dick all the way in. You nodded, yearning for him to start moving again. “Can feel me in y’belly?”

“H, please,” you begged, gripping your nails on his shoulder blades.”Want you.”

“y’have me,” he kissed you hard before moving again, rolling his hips as he picked up the pace.

The air around you was hot as you threw your head back with the delicious feeling of him hitting the spot inside of you. He was addicting. The salty taste of his skin. The touch of his hands gripping on your sides. The smell of his cologne faintly mixed with sweat. The sound of his skin meeting yours. It made you earn for him in every possible way.

You felt your wetness dripping out of you as he pulled your leg up to your chest, allowing him to effectively hit deeper spots. The new position made a cramp start to creep up on your thight, but you ignored it to focus on the way his hips met yours.

Time seemed to pass like a blur as you pleasured each other, but soon enough you felt your orgasm building up. His thrusts became more frequent and smooth as he felt you clench more around him.

“that’s it, baby - fuck,” he grunted, moving his hand down to flicker your clit, causing to arch your back, moaning loudly. “Wanna feel you come for me.”

His cross necklace dangled over you as he watched you closely. You kept your gaze locked on his as you felt the feeling deep in your tummy take over your entire body. A moan got stuck in your throat as you opened your mouth to an ‘O’ shape, digging your nails further on his shoulders as you reached your high.

Getting home, you soon realized that throughout the week you had been so lost in your feelings with Harry that you didn’t even think of asking him for his phone number.

The month that followed passed by surprisingly quickly. During the first week you were swiftly thrown back again into your old reality of course essays and textbooks. You hadn’t heard a word from Harry, and the most frustrating part is that he seemed to have settled his place inside your thoughts. You tried asking about him to Nia once or twice again, but every time she seemed to come up with vague answers and change the subject, so you figured she had other things to worry about.

It was a disappointing end, to say the least. Even knowing from the start that being let down was the most possible outcome, it didn’t hurt any less. You often wondered if it had been something you’d done that made him pull away, or if he just wasn’t in it from the start.

By the second week you had gotten a job at a tiny local cafe you used to go after class to study and eat cinnamon rolls. That’s when time starting to rush by, as you found yourself busy through most of your day. Nia was working more than you’ve ever seen her. You two barely talked as she spent most of her time with Evan or inside her room editing. And as the week at the camp house got further away, it started to almost seem like you had imagined all of it.

Having a lot of distractions helped, but you never seemed to push the thought of a certain curly-haired boy completely away. Sometimes during a tedious lesson you would daydream about the feeling of his lips against yours. Or right before you fell asleep you would think about the taste of his skin, how strong his hand were gripping on your thighs. Maybe even at work. When there wasn’t a lot of movement, you could almost hear the sound of his voice.

It was aggravating, the effect he left on you. It got to a point where you got angry; sometimes at him but sometimes at yourself. He was the one who had gone after you, and yet he was the one who disappeared. But again, he didn’t really owe you anything, and that’s what’s frustrating. You were the one who allowed him; you knew from the start that you would get hurt but you still went for it, anyway.

As you got closer to the premiere night that was planned, you started to get anxious. You would catch yourself daydreaming more often, not being as focused as you were. You even started picking your nails again, which is a habit you thought you’d kick it a long time ago. But truth to be told, you were nervous.

The thought about seeing him again made your heart race. You wished that you could somehow find a way not to go. Maybe ask Nia if the two of you could have a private viewing. You had even thought about bribing her with making your mom’s brownie recipe. But you already knew the answer before you even suggested it. This was an important night for her, and you would be there to support it.

You were overthinking this. Was it going to be awkward when you met him? How would you even greet him? Would he kiss you? Would he ignore you? Should you ignore him? All the scenarios in your head made you want to throw up and run away.

When the two of you finally arrived, you were greeted by a cheerful Evan, who jokingly teased you for being late. As you got into his house, you found a bigger group than you expected. It seemed like you and Nia were the last ones to arrive, as there was around ten other people in there. Some of them you recognized from being Nia’s friends, others you had never seen, but none was the one you earned to see the most.

Evan guided you across the living room area, “I’ll show you the kitchen so you two can get some drinks,” He held up his glass as he spoke. Gesturing to the entrance of the room, “We’ll start everything in around ten minutes, so get ready.”

As you entered the kitchen behind Nia, you could feel her stiffen her posture a bit, before looking back at you. You frowned lightly at her, confused by her behaviour, gazing inside the room and finding immediately a pair of green eyes already watching you. It made you think back to the first time you were in this exact position, except in your own kitchen. This time, however, he was the one to approach you.

He looked really good, which did nothing to help the butterflies flying relentlessly in your stomach. He was in all black, a buttoned up shirt with a few buttons open, exposing a bit of the skin on his chest where a silver necklace laid upon. You swallowed dryly at the sight of his hand running swiftly through his hair, with a ring hugging each one of his fingers.

As he got close, he greeted Nia first, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, before turning his attention back to you. He shot you a shy smile, before embracing you into a hug. You didn’t really know if it was your mind playing tricks but you felt him a bit hesitant as he greeted you and placed a kiss on your cheek. Pulling away, he cleared his throat, running his hand again through his hair, he almost seemed… nervous?

“‘S nice seeing you again,” he mumbled, “this uhm… ‘s my girlfriend, Jess.”

You could felt your heart drop with his words as you finally noticed a smiley girl coming to his side.

She wasn’t much taller than you, her red hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail. She matched him with a small black dress that annoyingly hugged her body in all the right ways. You could barely register her greeting you, as you tried your best to keep a straight face to hide the shock that took over your body. You felt a heaviness at the pit of your stomach, a feeling so distressful that made you want to scream as an attempt to make it go away.

You didn’t pay a lot of attention as Nia made a conversation with the girl, knowing that’s what she did best. You kept your gaze directed to Harry, your eyes asking a million questions - you didn’t even think you wanted to know the answers to. But he kept his eyes locked on the floor, eventually looking up at the girl in his arms as she seemed to mention him. But never meeting your own. Her hand was caressing his chest lovingly while his found their way on her waist, keeping her close.

“I think I’ll get something to drink,” you announced, realizing you might’ve interrupted the conversation as they stopped talking. You turned to Nia, “do you want something?”

She looked back at you with sorry eyes, “I should go with you,” she quickly turned back to the girl, “It was lovely meeting you, Jess.”

“Oh! Sure,” she smiled brightly at you two, her hand moving to rest on Harry’s chest, “we should go get our seats as well, right, babe?”

You left the scene as quickly as you could, not wanting to hear any more of it. Looking at all the drink options on top of the counter, you tried to think which one could get you drunk enough to stop feeling hurt over someone you spent just a week with, but still sober enough so that you could pretend everything was fine. Before you realized, Nia was standing next to you, getting two plastic pink cups before she stared at you with guilty-filled eyes.

“I should’ve just told you about it,” she sighed, “I didn’t want to make you sad, but looking back it was probably best if you already knew.”

You turned your head to look at her, “so you knew it all along?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you felt it close once again.

“Evan told me like a few days after we got back!” She rushed, “I don’t know if they were together while we were filming.”

You took a deep breath, knowing Nia was probably blaming herself for putting you into this situation. But you knew it wasn’t her fault, she would never purposely put you in this position if she knew about it before.

“You know what, it’s fine,” you tried your best to cover up the hurt and gave her a weak smile, “it’s not your fault Ni. It’s okay. I’m fine.”

She pulled you into a tight hug, “I’m sorry, bubba,” she said, “let’s get you something to drink so you can enjoy this party like the star you are!”

The two of you decided on the vodka mixed with watermelon juice, something you had never even thought of trying before but seemed to be ideal to handle the situation you found yourself in. You walked back to the living area, where people were already beginning to settle on the chairs.

Following Nia, you prompted yourself on a seat at the edge closest to the door, opposite to where Harry sat with the girl. His girl. You thought bitterly, taking a big sip from your cup and cringing at the strong taste.

There was a speech you didn’t pay much attention to before they started the film, only giving a slight smile when you realized the mention of your name.

Before you knew it, the lights were out and your face took over the screen.

It was harder than you thought it would be. Looking up at the scenes you had with Harry, knowing everything that happened behind the cameras. Knowing every touch and every kiss felt more than just playing a character. You knew the actual feeling of having him to yourself. But now staring at it right in front of you, it just left a sour taste in your mouth.

You finished your drink barely ten minutes into the film, the feeling of your chest aching starting to become overwhelming as you watched your shared kiss on the big screen. You could feel your throat close once more, your eyes watering a bit.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you whispered to Nia sitting next to you, who gave you a sympathetic smile as you got up. You glimpsed quickly to Harry who had his eyes trained on you, the girl next to him leaning to whisper something in his ear.

You could feel the tears falling down stubbornly as you left the room. Standing in the hallway, you made the decision to turn to the front door instead of the back, not wanting to face anyone with reddish eyes.

You left the house, picking your phone with shaky hands as you managed to call a ride home, sighing in relief as your screen told you it was just about three minutes away.

You heard the door open behind you as stood on the sidewalk hugging yourself to get some warmth on the chilly night. You tried your best to swallow back your tears as you turned around, expecting to find Nia looking at you with pitiful eyes.

To your surprise, the person standing there was Harry, looking like a deer caught in the headlights as he took in your tearful eyes. He spoke your name in a soft voice, causing you to look away.

“Don’t-” you interrupted, raising your hand at him, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

He frowned at you, not wanting to upset you more. “I’m sorry,” he hesitated, taking a step forward.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, as you watched your ride pulling in front of you. You looked back at him, “I’m sorry too,” you said before moving to enter the car.

You spared him one last glance through the window as the driver pulled away.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #wildest dreams #writing #fanfic #Reader x Harry #my writing

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frostedfaves · 4 years

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Masterlist

Pairings: dark!Natasha Romanoff x dark!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Wanda lets you have a little freedom and you take advantage of it.

Warnings: dark themes

A/N: I was going to do one long part to show the aftermath/consequences of what the reader did, but decided to leave you on a cliffhanger instead 😏 you have my permission to yell at me for it though. I’ll be posting part 9 tomorrow!

Previous part

“Hey, printsessa.”

You looked up from your bowl of cereal, offering Wanda a smile that widened as she approached, placing a gentle palm on your cheek when she leaned down to kiss you.

“Good morning, Wan. I’m almost done,” you added as you gestured to your bowl, and she shook her head.

“That’s not what I came over here for, although we do need to leave soon.”

“Oh, then what’s going on?” you questioned before shoveling your last spoonful in.

“I wanted to give you this.” She grabbed your hand and turned it over, dropping an iPad into your palm. “My meeting at the tower will be pretty long and then we have to wait another hour or so for Tash to get back from her mission, so I don’t want you to get bored. I downloaded all the games you like and a reading app.”

“Thank you, Wan.”

She responded to your gratitude with a kind smile and a kiss on your forehead, grabbing your dishes as she pulled away and taking them over to wash. You unlocked the iPad, using the time Wanda was distracted to quickly download Instagram and log in. A few DMs popped up once the app loaded, and the one that caught your eye first came from your ex-girlfriend, Brittani Gray.

Hey! I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked, but I’ll be in your city this week for work! I hate to be so last minute, but I’m only free to meet today.

The message was sent an hour ago, and you found yourself quickly responding to her before you had time to think about your actions. You named the place you wanted to meet in and closed the app, switching over to a game just as Wanda walked away from the sink.

“Ready to go?” she asked and you nodded sweetly, your expression dripping in false innocence.

“There she is!”

You looked up from subconsciously counting the tiles in front of your feet, meeting the eyes of the billionaire that owned the tower you just entered.

“You must be the girlfriend. Tony Stark, nice to meet you, kid.”

You told him your name and extended a hand, fighting the urge to roll your eyes or gag when he grabbed and planted a kiss on the back of it. He then moved on to address Wanda, and you wandered over to a nearby armchair, removing the iPad from the little crossbody satchel you were given to carry it in. You plugged in earbuds and turned on some music while you kept yourself busy with another game until a hand touched your knee.

“Hey.” Wanda’s eyes seemed to sparkle when you met her gaze, and you couldn’t help the look of adoration you gave her. “I’ll be upstairs, but if you need something you ask one of the secretaries to call me. Love you, baby.”

A kiss was dropped on the top of your head before she quickly walked away with Tony, and you knew she was probably kicking herself for the declaration. Despite how much the two enjoyed controlling most aspects of your life, the one thing they never pushed for was a confession of love. Natasha and Wanda knew they loved you, but they wanted you to have the freedom to realize it on your own, so they made it a point not to use the phrase until then.

Another hour or so passed while you busied yourself with sudoku, crosswords, or the occasional coin collecting game until you got bored with it. You then moved onto people watching until a notification came in from Instagram.

I’ll be there in about 20 minutes!

You quickly logged out and deleted the Instagram app, tucking the device away safely in the bag as you got up and exited the tower. Walking to the main street, you quickly hailed a cab, double-checking that the cash you swiped a few days ago while Wanda took a shower was still in your pocket. You paid the driver once you were dropped off and went inside the building.

“Brittani?” you called, your lips forming a grin when she faced you. “Hey! How are you?”

“Hey, I’m great!” she replied as she brought you into her embrace, examining you head to toe when she pulled away. “What about you? I have to imagine pretty well...you’re definitely glowing.”

“Really?” you questioned almost sarcastically with an incredulous expression.

“Yeah, you seem happy.”

“Happy to see you as usual,” you told her casually as you looked around the café. “I’m gonna grab a table while you order.”

“You don’t want anything? My treat.”

“Well, I already ate but I’ll take a--”

“Smoothie?” she finished for you with a teasing grin. “I already know which one.”

You laughed and shook your head as you stepped away to find a table far from the street side of the building, not wanting to be seen by anyone that knew your girlfriends. Brittani sat in front of you a few minutes later with her coffee and muffin, handing your smoothie and a straw over and beaming when your hands brushed.

“You know, as happy as I am that you agreed to meet, I’m very surprised to be sitting here with you now.” She glanced at your confused frown and continued. “Even though things didn’t end terribly between us, I’d always assumed you moved so far to get a fresh start and let go of everything in the past or something.”

“I guess in a way I did but...I don’t know.” A heavy sigh left your lips as you turned your attention to your smoothie. “I was pretty depressed when we broke up because I hadn’t been single in so long. I didn’t know how to handle it and every reminder of you made me angry. I’d planned to go even farther away than this.”

“What stopped you?” she questioned curiously, and her gentle tone helped you feel safe enough to meet her gaze again.

“I just thought that if I was going to move anywhere, it should be for me and not because I’m running from something or someone. So I thought a lot about what I really wanted, did some research and somehow ended up in New York.”

“Well I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” she confessed as she leaned forward to grab one of your hands. “Breakup or not, we were friends first, and it feels so weird to not have been there for a rough moment in your life.”

“I know, but everything went how it should’ve,” you assured her, laying your other hand on top of hers. “Had you been there, I would’ve tried to be with you again and I never would’ve learned the things about myself that I did.”

“I’m glad it all worked out then. So have you dated since then or…?” Your eyes widened a bit in panic and she quickly pulled her hands away. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

“No no, it’s okay.” Your own hands shifted back to your smoothie, and you took a sip with a smile. “So, I see you got that promotion you wanted.”

The conversation moved on from there to details about her job, and she explained all the traveling and salary increases that came with it. You found it easy to listen to her, even though you didn’t understand half of what she was saying, simply enjoying the normalcy of it all. Although you were able to find little moments of enjoyment in your insane relationship with Natasha and Wanda, it’d been a while since you just sat in a public place with someone who wasn’t looking over their shoulders for an enemy most of the time. It was nice.

“So then we somehow ended up with 60 pieces of dessert even though we only ordered 20!”

“Britt, I’m not seeing the problem here.”

She cackled loudly in a contagious way that made it so easy to join in. The two of you were so caught up in laughing that neither of you noticed someone approaching your table until you felt a stern hand gripping the back of your neck and Natasha’s cold voice in your ear.

“You have ten seconds to get in the car before I drag you there myself.”

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @nat-km-mh @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @fayhar @cherrieloco @mjaudrey @seventeen0 @bebe404 @becka107 @its-a-long-way-to-ba-sing-se @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @messuhp @sxphiaswitch @muted-stoneheart @trikruismybitch @wannabe-fic-reader @natashadeservedmore @darkangelxoxo @witchxaf @sakurat123

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rhmg-au · 4 years

Text

“’Ello- Oh-!”

As the cyborg stepped in, he was greeted by the worried stare of the doctor. He was mostly surprised to see the General being in the same room. He fully lets himself in and shuts the door.

“General sir!” Green gave a quick salute.

“Green.” Galeforce acknowledges. His voice was stern, but there was hints of concern. “Dr. V told me there was something wrong so I came here as fast as I could.”

“A-A-Ah-! I h-hope I wasn’t cutting off something i-important-!” Green apologized but then Dr. V intervened.

“Green, your stuttering is getting worse. Time is of essence. I will perform diagnostic on you so you go to other room, da?” She said, pointing at a door that leads to another part of the lab. “You wait there while I get ready, understood?”

“Y-Yes, doct-t-teerr-” Green walked off into the other room, occasionally shaking his head to brush off a jolt of pain. Once the door closed, his two “creators” were left alone.

“...Code Red Light, is it?”

Dr. V nodded and showed Galeforce the notes on her clipboard. “He’s responding negatively to certain phrases and sights, as I told before Green came in. What I worry most is the worst spike when he responded...or should I say, questioned the name....Right.”

The General clenched his fist, “He’s remembering.” He said coldly.

“That might be the case.”

“I thought you said you’ve wiped off everything within his memories. There should be no way he could remember if done so.” Galeforce seemed mad at Dr. V, but she shrugged in response.

She adjusted her glasses before she continues, “It is true that I have wiped all memories, but with this incident, we gain insight of his deeper state of memory. Deeper than the surface memories, which was more or less completely wiped off.” She flipped her notes, revealing a diagram, looking like layers. “Green, despite passing prior tests, is still in constant development and in a sense, we’ve only scratched the surface. We are here and there are possibilities of deeper layers.”

Galeforce fiddled with his goatee while Dr. V explained the schemes, “Is it not possible to delete everything in one go? To the roots?”

Dr. V shook her head, “Breaching one’s memories isn’t easy sir. All we can do now is observe, test and react one step at a time. With the current issue, what we could do is block off specific things in his memory - like a blacklist in his database.” She flipped the notes back to first page. “Which include the memories of Reginald Copperbottom and reacting to Right.”

“Will this guarantee in fewer incidents like this?”

“It should be so.” She got some work gloves on. “After I rewire these blacklist commands, we still need to put him on another test to see if he complies to these commands. That should not be problem for you, da?”

The General pulled off a smirk as he pulled out a controller, “Not at all, doctor.”

“Well then.” The doctor grabbed her clipboard once again and walked to the door leading to the other room. “We must not waste any time. If he reverts we are done for.”

A quick nod and the two entered.

(TW for restraints, a distressed Green, mind control, memory wiping and hoo boy :])

Green whistled a little tune to keep him distracted from the constant buzzing in his cybernetics as he dangled his feet over the edge of the medical bed. He pondered on what Galeforce and Dr. V was discussing on the other side, hoping whatever his issue is isn’t too serious or anything. (Besides, he might miss game night with the gang!)

His little whistling was cut off when the two entered the room. He gave them a sincere smile as a welcome.

“Hello Green, sorry to keep you waiting, boy.” Galeforce tipped his hat in apology but Green shook his head.

“No worries sir! I didn’t wait for long anyways, so alls good!” Green said cheerfully, gaining a small chuckle from Galeforce. “So...m-my issue? Should I u-uh, lay down or something-?”

Dr. V shook her head and instead points to a chair. “I will run diagnostic on system first so you sit and I will link to computer.” Green gladly followed her instructions and insisted on connecting the cables and wires himself. He had went through many of these diagnostics he had the wires practically on memory. “Good, now stay still while I check.” She said as she sat by her computers and booting them all up.

Galeforce took a seat facing Green and again was greeted with his smile, “Green my boy, I heard you went on with the scheduled training without my permission, is that true?”

Green gawked and hung his head, “Th-That is t-t-t-true, General....Sorry, I probably wouldn’t end up l-like this if I didn’t....”

“No no, what is happening is not your fault. Your systems are fairly new so there should be glitches that we missed. But not to worry, Dr. V here will fix you as good as new, okay?” A sweet reassuring smile. Galeforce then turns towards Dr. V, “Are the diagnostics up?” His hands gave out a particular signal, which the doctor nodded to.

“The primary system diagnostics are completed and there doesn’t seem to be anything out of the regular. I suggest we try a full database scanning in case problem resides there and run several tests.” Her fingers swiftly typed in commands after commands before eventually doing the database scan. A bright red was reflected from her glasses as she curled up a small smile, “There we go.”

Green tilted his head slightly before noticing the red reflection, “Oh no! Is it b-b-bad, doctor?”

“We found the culprit. Seems to be several files within you mem-...mm..optics files.” She corrected herself before any slip ups. “You said you seeing things and glitching, yes? Well, seems like there are some bad file readings in your optical codes and what nots.” Lie. Lie it off. “I can try to fix it, but I will need to run a few....gimmicks testing to make sure. Are you okay with that, Green?”

“Sure! Just like usual!”

“Good. Now....” She began typing again. She started with a good memory file to be played on Green’s visions. A memory of Charles. “Green, I want you to tell me what you see or think right now.”

Green blinked before focusing on the vision being played out, “Oh! It’s Charlie!! Yeah, this is when I beat him and the Twins in Mario Kart! Haha! Love that defeated look of his!” He blinked and the vision stopped, “Aw.”

Dr. V continues to play out several memory files to bait him, before signaling Galeforce to step in. The General nods and scoots his seat closer to Green.

“Everything good?”

“Yes sir~!” Green chirped as a memory of him cradling one of the soldier’s pet cat was being played out. “Funny fuzzy friend is on my visions now!”

And comes the trick question.

“That’s good. Anyways, I have a question for you, Right Hand Man.”

“Yes?”

Silence.

“Odd. I didn’t call your name, Green. You responded to the name Right.”

That’s when Green’s cybernetic eye starts to glitch once more....followed by a sudden distressed look on his human eye. “I-- W-Wait-- But I---” The stutters and glitches came back.

Galeforce’s assuring aura drops into a cold stare at the sight of the cyborg glitching. “Have you forgotten your own name...that you’re responding to another? The one we once told was wrong?”

“N-No sss-sir I-- That n-name sound-- ffff-amiliar-- I-”

There it is.

“Dr. V. Get to it. And while you’re at it, get rid of Copperbottom’s files as well.” Galeforce stood up from his seat and ordered.

“Wh--at-?”

“Yes sir.” She quickly entered termination codes and sent them to the two problematic memory files. The first to go was the name file as the progress window popped up. The termination was slow....and painful on Green’s behalf.

Green held his head and whimpered as the file was slowly deleted. Luckily, he did not struggle too much and before he knows it, the file was deleted off his database.

But that was not the last.

Once FILE:RIGHT.mem was deleted....it was FILE:RC.mem on the progress window. Reginald’s files.

That struck an immediate hard blow onto Green’s cybernetics as he screamed in agony, as if refusing for the files to be deleted. He struggled and tries to stand up before Galeforce grabs him and shoves him back to the seat and restraints locking him in place. The progress was painfully slow as the system seemed to be resisting the termination commands. Like a war playing out within Green’s mind. Tears flowed freely through his cheek with the overwhelming pain in his head.

“WHAT’S...W-W-W-WHAT”S HHHHAPPENINGGGGG--?!?!?” He tried to focus on Galeforce, who stood coldly in front of him. “GGGENERAL-- WH-WHAT’S HAPPENING T-TO ME--?! I-IT-- M-MY HEAD--!!”

“There is nothing to fear, Green. Relax. We are merely fixing you.”

“B-BUT--! YOU---” His cybernetic eye flashed the dreadful red for a split second, but that was enough to make Galeforce put on his death glare. “YOU CAN’T DDDDDDDDDELETE---!!!”

“He is remembering. The system is trying to fight back the commands. The deleting progress is stuck on 34%.” Dr. V reported, trying to retain her calm demeanor despite Green now showing signs of reverting to Right. “What do we do now, General?”

“What else?” He looked at the doctor dead in the eye. “Add more commands. It’s about time we rewire him into the perfect weapon.”

On command, more aggressive codes were inputted and soon the progress bar increases - much to Green’s inconvenience. His struggles became more frantic with every percentage of deletion. But as the progress bar nears completion, he weakens in his struggles.

“P-Please--!”

78%

“I d-don’t-”

85%

“N-No--”

98%

“I-” Green’s vision starts to blur out, as he could only make out the faint looks of The General and Dr. V standing in front of him.

“Hush now Green.”

98%

“This is for your and our own good.”

98%

“N...” His visions starts to glitch out.

99%

“Sweet dreams, Green.”

100%

> FILE:RIGHT.mem successfully deleted.

> FILE:RC.mem successfully deleted.

> COMMAND:Recalibrate Memory File Order

> COMMAND:Update System Commands

> COMMAND:Update Firewall

> COMMAND:Run System Diagnostic

> COMMAND:Run Full System Scan

> COMMAND:Reboot PRJ_GREEN.exe

> COMMAND:Update PROJECT GREEN Database

[ PROJECT GREEN DATABASE HAS BEEN UPDATED ]

[ Green is unavailable for asks until further notice ]

[ SIGNOUT:GALEFORCE ]

[ SIGNOUT:VINSCHPINSILSTIEN ]

#CHANGE LOG - [ 01 ]

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amarantine-amirite · 2 years

Text

I Could Fall and Keep On Falling

When you're born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire when it isn't. Growing up, what looked like a minor inconvenience always triggered a large cascading failure. I could never believe that little nuisances were just little because of that. The distinction between a small annoyance and the early stage of a catastrophe didn't exist in my world for a very long time.

I thought I had learned the difference between a nuisance and a disaster. Then came the Super Bowl Halftime Show.

I was in a band at the time: Toxoplasmosis Gandhi. We play rock versions of classical music as well as neoclassical stuff. We would be opening for One Direction at the Super Bowl Halftime Show. I think we only got booked because nobody could believe that our band was real.

We took to the stage in wedding dresses, gold chain necklaces, and those nerdy belt buckles like what Howard Wolowitz wears. The first song that we played was “The Silver Fairy” from Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty. It went off normally, other than when the lines in our brains got crossed with the song from the scene in the Disney film where the fairies are cleaning the cottage. Between the drums, the banjo, the electric guitar, the upright bass, and shouting “olé” at the end; it had to have been the most badass rendition of Tchaikovsky ever.

The crowd went nuts over it. None of us expected it to be such a hit. You don’t think of football fans as enjoying the works of Tchaikovsky, but there you go. "Thank you, Atlanta!”

We moved on to our next song, Enya’s “Even in the Shadows”. I think it was the first time that I sang instead of Julia. Both of us can sing, but Julia's got a 4-octave vocal range. Hetty (our drummer) is tone-deaf, and Nancy (our bassist) is actually deaf, so neither of them sings.

We ran into a problem with this song. The Chorus of the song is: I could fall and keep on falling, I could call and keep on calling, Wonder why this love is over, Wonder why it's not forever. I tried to sing the above, but all I could get out was “WE CAN'T ESCAPE THE FILIPINO” four times.

I thought I'd be able to do it after the bridge, that what had happened was a momentary glitch. No such luck. Once again, we can't escape the Filipino.

We finished our set. One Direction took the stage after we did. Come the third quarter, I tried to say something about the Halftime Show to Hetty, but no sound came out. It didn't occur to me until after the game that I had a stroke onstage.

Our act went viral. Nobody knew what we can't escape the Filipino was supposed to mean. Based on the number of replies that were variations of the phrase “Yeah, the Philippines is crowded. There are people everywhere”, people in the Philippines must have found it funny.

We thought that my stroke was the worst it would get. We had no idea that there was another catastrophic failure on the horizon. What made it different this time was that it wasn’t just a catastrophe for me, but for everyone who uses Twitter.

How? Well, there’s kind of a long story behind it. Last year, an organization called Tower bought Twitter. Tower is the property management company for public school buildings in the state of Oregon. Once Tower got their mitts on Twitter, moles of people got their accounts canned for “hate speech”; said hate speech was just a bunch of drunken, late-night shitposting. People's accounts got trashed for tweeting something as simple as “Whenever you beat a robot master, you take their name, remove Man/Woman from the end, and make it your name” during a thread about non-binary superheroes. But it doesn’t matter how inconsequential it is. Any tweets that mention LGBTQ+ people, BIPOC people, and people with disabilities were also removed and the accounts were frozen for three months.

As time went on, it got worse. Just before Super Bowl Sunday, they issued an ultimatum: The next person we catch using Twitter to disseminate hate speech, we will delete Twitter from the Internet!

The next thing that went on Twitter that it construed as hate speech: my onstage stroke. True to their word, Tower shut down Twitter for good.

I didn’t find out what happened until I turned on the news the following morning. The top story was the collective shock nearly a billion people felt as they signed into Twitter, only to find it blocked in every country in the world. It felt like a bad nightmare that you sometimes get after eating spicy curry before bed. The next day felt even less like reality when hundreds of millions of people all over the world logged on to their computers and discovered that Twitter had been deleted from the internet, gone forever.

I had only recently learned how to tell the difference between an annoyance and the beginning of a disaster. I thought it was safe to let my guard down. I was wrong, and now I wonder why even bother to ignore the possibility of a cascading failure.

I'm dreading going to school. Everyone will know that I am the reason that Twitter no longer exists.

@heavensghost

#writing #writers #writers on tumblr #short story #short fiction #thomas the plank engine #enya #one direction #super bowl #twitter takeover

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haddocknumber3 · 3 years

Text

Why the Supernatural Finale was Bad and Misguided

(This is the script I wrote for a video essay I uploaded to Youtube so that’s why there are lines across the page at points because it was broken up into sections that I could record individually)

The Finale of Supernatural was bad.

There, I said it. Now I know the finale was pretty divisive and there’s a lot of people who really loved it and that’s absolutely okay. I do understand most of the viewpoints that have been made to defend the finale. First though, I want to give a brief history of me and the show.

I started watching Supernatural in Feb 2019 when a friend recommended it to me. Like so many other people who have fallen in love with the show, once I started watching I couldn’t stop. I absolutely loved it and luckily I started watching at the perfect time because I was able to watch the final season live with everyone else which is an experience I will always cherish, regardless of my opinions towards the finale.

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When 15x19 was released, I was on holiday and while I thought of waiting till I got home to watch it along with the finale, I decided to jump into it. Sadly, I was a little underwhelmed going into it because I saw a minor spoiler on Rob Benedict’s Instagram with him posing with Jared, Jensen and Alex saying “That’s it for me. What a ride. Thank you again to this amazing cast, crew, and group of writers past and present. And to the best fans in the world. My life is forever changed.”

Regardless of that though, I still really enjoyed the episode. It felt rushed but I was still really satisfied with it and I was pumped to see where the final episode would take things…

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In the week leading up to the final episode, I deleted all social media and stayed away from anything that could possibly provide spoilers for the finale. I was so damn excited. I was just as excited about the finale of SPN as I was about Endgame the year prior, which I’ll also be doing a video on soon. So when I finally got home from holiday I jumped straight on the CW website and watched the finale.

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Guess what? I absolutely loved it. I couldn’t have asked for a better finale. I cried my eyes out and I had never felt that level of heartache towards any piece of media ever, besides maybe Schindler's List and Life is Beautiful. But as the final scene played, I sat back with incredible satisfaction. I was so sad but so happy at the same time. However when I started reading the reviews I was taken aback by the negativity towards the finale. I genuinely didn’t understand and took the stance of ‘Oh these people just don’t understand the show they're watching and they just didn’t get it.”

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Yeah…I was one of those people. I read into a few reasons why people didn’t like the finale and I sort of understood their stance, but I still remained firm with my opinion. However, over the last few months my opinion had begun to change.

It’s now May 2021 as I’m writing this and I can firmly say that the finale of Supernatural is bad. Actually, it’s really bad.

Not only have I now changed my opinion on 15x19 which I now consider to be a good, but not that great penultimate episode, but I genuinely believe that this finale, 15x20, destroyed the progress of 15 seasons worth of character development and story for a simple and misguided finale. In this video I’ll be breaking down why that is, and an ending of my own that would hopefully satisfy all fans. Here’s how to flush 15 years and 15 seasons of television down the drain:

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Title card: ‘Thematic Inconsistencies’

A REALLY great video by Media Buzzkill called ‘The Fiction of Free Will: A Supernatural Video Essay’ breaks down the final episode along with the final season exceptionally well and I’ll link that video in the description because they go really in depth with the concept of meta and how it fits into the show’s narrative and man, I keep re-watching it because it’s brilliant and an almost perfect summary of my feelings towards the finale.

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The thematic inconsistencies present in the finale are quite astounding to be frank because the penultimate episode was the perfect way to set up the final episode, simply with the thematic question of: What do Sam and Dean do once the story is over? What do they really want out of life now that they have finally escaped the hamster wheel.

By the end of 15x19, there are a few thematic through lines that are present that should have been followed through on in the finale in order to make a satisfying conclusion to the story:

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- The concept of freedom for the Winchesters and what that means for both of them as individuals. (I’ll talk more about this during the character section of the video as I’ve got a lot to say about it and I want to talk about other things first.)

- Family don’t end in blood (this is made clear by the extensive and frankly amazing montage at the end.)

- Meta narrative

Thematically, it’s clear from the Season 14 finale that the final season was going to be focusing on the brilliant meta narrative that the show had already been toying with for over a decade, ever since Chuck was originally introduced.

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In my opinion, this was the only direction for the show to go in during its final season as they would have been able to tie up all the loose ends the show had whilst making the season feel grand and conclusive. By doing this, it makes the entire show feel much tighter as a result. Why? Because, in retrospect it’s made very clear where the show is heading, and it also bolsters the concept of the meta narrative which then only really allows for one type of ending that would feel satisfying. That is; Sam and Dean defeating Chuck and gaining their freedom from the story.

Thematically this is pure genius, and it seemed like we were going to get that ending after all… *sigh*

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Sadly, in the finale, everything that had been set up beforehand was utterly destroyed in one single episode. Instead of leaning into the thematic question of; what do Sam and Dean want now that they’re out of the story, the finale goes the opposite route and has them continue hunting. The exact same thing that they have been doing all their lives. It also strays away from that thematic question by doing exactly what shouldn’t have happened. Thematically, the finale stated that even though Sam and Dean had defeated Chuck and overcome his story, they still ended up meeting the same fates that they had previously wanted or desired. However, that’s another thing entirely that I’ll go into a little later.

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Again though, the finale states that no matter what conflict you may overcome, no matter how hard you push to gain the freedom you never thought you could have, you will never achieve it because you're destined to the fate you previously desired/thought you deserved at the start of the story. This is genuinely the worst possible ending as it directly conflicts with the concept of the meta narrative that they had been building throughout the entire final season.

A common defence of the finale that many people have given is that the show began with two brothers, so therefore the fact that it ended with the two brothers is narratively and thematically perfect. In some ways that is true and I’ll get into why that is later, but the way that was executed in the finale and how that concept was used, was terrible.

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The show did start with the two brothers, alone on the road hunting the evil supernatural beings of the world. In the beginning, the themes were pretty clear. Family and love will triumph over any evil, and nothing is stronger than family, hence the phrase “Family don’t end in blood”. These themes were presented narratively through the brother’s relationship and how far they would go for one another to protect each other, even sacrificing themselves. However, this ISN’T how the show should have ended. Yes, those themes are still relevant and should’ve remained consistent even until the final episode, but to say that it’s perfect for the brothers to start the show alone and end the show alone with the same mindset and thematic outlook as the beginning is ridiculous.

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To have the finale only centre around the brothers is a good idea, but the thematic choices along with the character’s fates was incredibly contradictory and awful to everything that had been set up before, but again I’m going to delve into this aspect a little bit later.

For the writers to revert the narrative of the final season back to the first season in the final episode is monumentally wrong and misguided. As a result of this, the final episode feels like a strange nostalgia trip, until you realise that it is an episode that literally belongs right in the middle of season 1. If Supernatural was only ever a 1 season show, then this finale would have been practically perfect. But it’s not. It’s a 15 year long show with characters that undergo incredibly difficult character struggles that allow them to change for the better. So for the ending to chuck them right back to where they started is frankly stupid and kind of insulting.

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Title card: ‘Characters’

Before I dissect the characters of Sam and Dean and their role in the finale, I’m going to lay out a brief thought process that I’m going to use when analysing them. You may have heard this in other formats but if you haven’t then I’ll reiterate it here.

Most characters must have two things in order for a story to be strong, compelling, and satisfying. Those two things are WANTS and NEEDS. When a character wants something, that’s what drives their motivation throughout the story and what guides their decisions. It also affects how they relate and interact with other characters.

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A need is the thing the character must face and come to terms with, in order to complete their character arc and satisfy the requirements of the story. By learning that what they want is either not achievable or goes against what’s truly important to them, they must satisfy that need for the benefit of themselves and the people around them. This makes for a satisfying and logical ending to the story as the character is no longer driven by something they want, but is driven by their need, depending on what it is.

Now, let’s go back to Supernatural shall we?

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In the beginning of the show, Sam and Dean started off wanting separate things since they were individuals who had their own goals, aspirations, and motivations.

Sam wanted to live a normal life; go to college, meet a girl, get a job in law, and hopefully start a family of his own. This changed however at the end of the Pilot to Sam wanting revenge against the demon that killed Jess.

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Dean wanted Sam back in the life of hunting with him as he didn’t want to go off to try and find their Dad alone. Dean also wanted to keep hunting as he felt like it was all he was good for and his only purpose in life. Also, its made quite clear during the first season that Dean has incredibly low self-worth. As pointed out in Castiel’s confession scene during 15x18, Dean thinks of himself as “destructive, angry, broken, “Daddy’s blunt instrument.” As a result of this, he’s made it clear that he wants to die. How does he WANT this to happen? Blaze of glory, going out on a hunt, dying bloody, the way he’s always thought he deserved, and due to his low self-worth, he has accepted that and come to terms with that fate, hence his macho manly man facade he puts on in front of people. That is what he wants at the beginning of the show. Even though he has died over and over again in gruesome ways, his permanent death was supposedly destined to be going out on a regular hunt, blaze of glory, saving people, hunting things, the family business. At least that’s what he thought he deserved…

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However by the end of the series, he’s gained enough self-worth to realize that’s not what he wants anymore. *play the clip from season 1 where Dean talks about retiring on a beach* also *play the clip in 15x19 where Chuck calls Dean the ultimate killer and Dean responds with that’s not who I am”.

This is a really good penultimate stepping stone in terms of Dean’s character arc and how it wraps up because he has finally gained a proper sense of self-worth, not by defeating Chuck, but by realizing that who he truly is, and who he really wants to be isn’t dictated by the story that Chuck had written.

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Media Buzzkill mentions it in their video but something the final season really dropped the ball on was the parallel between John and Chuck; both abusive and neglectful fathers who tried to control their children’s lives. For Dean to finally overthrow Chuck and gain his freedom, thematically he could have gained his freedom from the path his father set him on ever since he was a young kid. But since the season didn’t lean into that parallel, this wasn’t officially a thing that was going on. However I still like to think of it that way. Back to the point though.

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As a result of Dean gaining his freedom from Chuck and finally claiming his own autonomy, he is now able to complete his character arc as he has put aside his WANTS that he had at the beginning of the show (dying young on a hunt, always having to protect Sam no matter what the personal toll it takes on him) and fulfilled his NEED to achieve a status of self-worth and self-actualization in order to benefit himself and the people around him. Another point to affirm this is the fact that this couldn’t have happened without the meta story being involved. In my opinion this makes it all feel like a very logical, consistent and satisfying story for Dean.

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The reason why I mentioned this as the perfect penultimate stepping stone for Dean’s character arc is that the question raised at the end of 15x19 still hadn’t been answered yet: “What do Sam and Dean want now that the story is over and they’re free?” I also know what you're going to say. “But isn’t it all about wants and needs? If they’re free from the story then shouldn’t they need to learn something instead of just getting what they want?” You may have a point, however due to the fact that the show has surrounded itself in the concept of meta narratives, then this is where the wants and needs don’t necessarily apply. The reason is that the finale should have followed through on what Sam and Dean needed, which was, by the time the finale started, to figure out a life that was beyond the confines of the story.

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Dean

I’m going to focus on Dean first because that’s the main thing I have an issue with in the finale, but I will talk about Sam afterwards.

By the time the finale started, Dean had finally fulfilled what he needed, which was a stable life that was beyond the story. He wasn’t dictated by some grand plan anymore and he finally had the freedom he deserved. Yes, he wanted this, but he also NEEDED to realize that in order for him to truly break the cycle and get off the hamster wheel, he needed to achieve a proper sense of self-actualization. If he wasn’t able to do this, then he truly would always have felt like he didn’t belong, even if he had gotten what he wanted (getting freedom from the story.) The reason why, is that after learning everything he had about Chuck, his manipulations, how Chuck had been controlling them their entire lives, for him to defeat Chuck, but remain in the status quo of what he’s always known, it would naturally cause him to feel unsatisfied with life and therefore would make us feel unsatisfied at the way the series ends…

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Yes, I know that his identity is tied to being a hunter. I’m all for that because yeah even though Chuck had been controlling them their entire lives Dean still loved hunting even towards the end. But for Dean to not even consider any other kind of life outside of “the life” is strange because it seemed like that was the only direction for the story to take…But no, he stays with the life and decides to continue hunting and serving the role that he had been placed in from the time he was born; saving people, hunting things, the family business. The role he had been forced into his whole life, destined for nothing more...

Back to the events of the finale…

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Dean has continued hunting and he continues to live alone with Sam in the bunker. Yes, the pie scene was perfect. Well, not perfect, Sam bringing up Cas and Dean barely reacting and just sort of hand waving it was...a big yikes. But this video isn’t about Dean and Cas’ relationship (p.s I do support and like Destiel but I’m not going to delve into that in this video as people like Media Buzzkill have already done that really well in their own separate videos, which I’ll link in the description.)

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When Dean and Sam go on that final hunt and Dean gets impaled on the rusty piece of rebar, it was random, out of nowhere and confusing. Some say that this was perfect because they weren’t being dictated by the story anymore and accidents can happen to anyone for any reason. That’s just a part of being human. Right. Okay. Well, yes that may be true that they aren’t invincible now, but my god does that spit in the face of everything the characters had fought for. To say that even after defeating Chuck, even after escaping the story that had been written for them, after 15 years of defying their destinies, A CORE THEME OF THE SHOW FROM THE BEGINNING OF SEASON 1, to say that Dean just ends up dying on a random hunt, alone, with only his brother by his side and no one else from the family that he and Sam had built over the years, and that despite his current needs, he is still ultimately rendered to be the self-destructive, suicidal-idealist, “daddy’s blunt instrument” that he was at the beginning of the show is incredibly disrespectful and in some cases quite dangerous to the viewers of the show who have suffered from mental health issues. Why? Because the finale, along with Dean’s death, states unintentionally that you will never break out of your cycle, you will never escape your original fate, you will never achieve freedom, you will never achieve happiness in life, and possibly the worst sentiment of the entire ordeal is that you can only find peace in death.

What a fucking waste. What a disgusting travesty of a finale. My god.

*sigh*

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I understand the nostalgia behind it all. I get the nostalgic feelings of a classic Monster of the Week. When I originally saw the finale, I loved it, as I’ve previously stated in this video. I’m pretty much a nostalgia junkie, trust me, I can see it. I got all the references and little nods to the rest of the series like John’s journal, that random Jenny vampire chick, Dean’s love of pie, “I can’t do this alone, yes you can, well I don’t want to,” when Dean tells Sam that he stood outside his dorm for hours before the Pilot, Carry on My Wayward Son playing as Dean drives in heaven, Harvelles Roadhouse, OG Bobby,

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WAIT. HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE. Record stops (say that quieter)

When Sam brings up Cas and how he misses him at the Pie festival, Dean addresses it by saying “That pain is not gonna go away, right? But if we don’t keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing.”

I actually don’t know what the fuck happened, but the writers are not dumb...They knew Dean would be dying in this episode right? SO WHY HAVE HIM SAY THAT IF THEY DONT KEEP LIVING THEN ALL THAT SACRIFICE IS GONNA BE FOR NOTHING UNLESS THE WRITERS WANTED IT TO MEAN NOTHING.

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I...I have no words. This fucking ending man. OKay, sorry, let’s carry on with the video because I’m legitimately mad now and just want to get through this.

To finish my point about Dean’s ending, he needed to leave the hunting life in one way or another. If he didn’t, and stayed in the life just like in the actual finale, then I have no doubt that he would begin to feel unsatisfied with life and eventually quit hunting at some point down the road. What I’m trying to say is the only logical ending for Dean Winchester, the man who’s entire identity is centered around hunting, needed to leave that life for something better. This wouldn’t have worked in a regular story where there wasn’t the concept of the meta narrative because if Dean just randomly decided to leave the life, even though he was already firmly a part of it then it would indeed be out of character for him. But since this is a meta story, Dean needed to achieve a sense of self-actualization that was beyond the story that had been written for him since he was born. Few, sorry, okay, onto Sam now.

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Sam

So I don’t have as much to say about Sam than I did with Dean but I still think that this was the wrong ending for him. It isn’t actually too bad if I’m being honest, but it is still regressive and quite similar to Dean’s ending in many ways sadly. But there’s a core idea at the centre of Sam’s ending that I do think was a good idea, but it’s buried under so much crap and nonsense that it was deformed into something misguided, even if the idea itself isn’t bad at all. I’ll start with that first.

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Sam being forced to witness his brother’s death is nothing new. But now that he is experiencing his supposedly final death, this causes him to leave the life entirely and go live an apple-pie life. It’s clear from this that he has finally learned to let go of his co-dependency issue with his brother. He has moved on.

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The idea of Sam letting go of his co-dependency with Dean is great and it’s something I’m going to use in my own ending that I’ll detail later in this video. However, this issue is that the decision to let go is forced upon him through Dean’s death. It’s not a choice Sam makes to move away from Dean and let each other live separate lives, therefore bringing forth their individuality which is something Dean desperately needed this whole time. By omitting Sam’s choice to let Dean go and live a separate life, he is robbed of his agency and therefore makes his ending feel unearned and forced upon him. You may say that this would be out of character and strange for the brothers to do. They love each other so therefore they have no reason to not be in each other’s lives. That is correct, but I didn’t mean that they aren’t in each other’s lives in some form, just that they are separated and living different lives than each other. I’ll go more into detail when I give my pitch for an ending.

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The next point I want to make about Sam’s ending is that he also regresses to what he previously wanted back in the early days of the show. Yes, I remember that he already lived a normal life back in Season 8 which could be evidence to support the idea that he still wanted that in Season 15. But no, that was almost half the entire length of the show ago. Sam has moved on from the idea of an apple pie life; living with a wife and kid, owning a home, having backyard barbecues, you get the picture.

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How interesting would it have been if he actually decided to stay in the life in some way. Maybe not actually hunting, but working from the bunker and helping other hunters with lore or other aspects like that. Maybe Eileen is there too? Maybe they're working together as a couple, not hunting, but being a safe haven for hunters where they can access all the lore they could dream of and find safety there. Almost like an upgraded version of Harvelle’s Roadhouse. Just an idea, but that would’ve been much better than what we actually got.

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Title card: Stray thoughts

When you look at Season 15 alone, there's quite a lot of things the finale failed to conclude, address or clear up.

Cas’ grace was failing

This could’ve been a really great plot point to play throughout the season because it would cause Cas to contemplate his uses and worth whilst stressing about the whole situation with Chuck as well as the Empty deal looming over him. But they didn’t address it at all. It just kinda...faded away and wasn’t brought up again. It wasn’t a massive thing but it would’ve been cool to see how that could’ve played out.

Ruby asked Castiel to save her from the Empty (15x13)

The demons rising up against Rowena (15x13)

Dean doesn’t ask Jack to bring back Cas from the Empty (15x19)

Sam forgets about Eileen in 15x20

No closure for Dean and Castiel

We never see any of the side characters again who got Thanos snapped in 15x18

Jack’s explosion in the Empty made the Empty loud

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Those are the main points that the final season and the finale failed to address and even though they are minor points in the grand pantheon of issues with the finale, they still add up for me and are quite frustrating to think about.

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Title card: My Ideal Finale

So, after all that I think I’ve made it pretty clear how I feel about the finale. There’s a few other points I wanted to make about the narrative of the final season as a whole in conjunction with the finale but I feel as if I’ve already said what I need to say.

I’ve seen so many other people give their take on how the finale should’ve played out so now I want to give my version of events that would’ve given the show the proper send off it deserved, and the send off it was seemingly setting up.

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My finale would start with the same hunt that happened in the real finale. However, the opening scene is them fighting the vampires. As they’re fighting, Sam is wounded and needs to be taken to hospital. After he’s treated there, they return to the bunker. Sam wakes up from a nap and talks with Dean. They talk about how that was a pretty close call. Dean mentions that it should probably be their last case. Sam looks confused, and doesn’t say anything. Dean seems hesitant to discuss the prospect of that being their last case but he begins anyway. He mentions that he feels as if he’s been given a chance at a new life now that they’ve defeated Chuck. He states that if he keeps doing the same old, same old, then he’s afraid that he’ll waste his chance at freedom. Sam understands but points out that if they don’t do this, then who does. Dean ponders this for a second, as he’s done so many times over his life. Should he continue to sacrifice his chance at happiness and freedom so other people can live safely?

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Obviously this question has popped up a lot throughout the show, and they’ve always chosen to stay with the life. Maybe hunting was a part of who they were, but they now had a chance to try something new. With Chuck not writing their story anymore, they get to write their own. Going wherever the story takes them. Finally free.

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After this scene, the pie scene from the actual finale happens pretty much exactly how it originally happened, except for a few changes of dialogue and the scene would be extended to incorporate a visit from Bobby and Eileen. When Sam brings up Cas, instead of Dean saying what he said in the actual finale, he would say something along the lines of this:

“Yeah, I miss him too.”

Sam notices Dean is looking quite sad and asks him what’s wrong.

“He sacrificed himself for me.”

“It came out of nowhere. We were trapped and Billy was banging on the door trynna get in when he…he said that he made a deal.”

A tear rolls down Dean’s face. Sam notices, and moves closer to Dean and looks at him with a classic empathetic look from Sam.

Dean blinks a few times and wipes the tear away.

“Ah, I’ll tell you later” said Dean, as he began to tuck into a pie from the box on his lap.

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Bobby then pulls up with Eileen. Sam and Dean go and greet them. They talk about Sam’s wound, Jack defeating Chuck and how he’s the new god, Sam and Eileen, who steps out of the car and Sam and her kiss. Bobby also asks what they’re going to do now that they’re free from Chuck. This leads into the question of whether or not they’re still going to continue hunting. Eileen looks inquisitive at the brothers too as she also wants to know what Sam wants now that Chuck has been defeated and he’s free. Sam says he wants to stay in the life and that he’s open to see what happens. Dean says that he’s not sure. Sam glances over at Dean, who notices but doesn’t look back. It’s clear to both Bobby and Eileen that this is a conversation that both brothers need to have in private before they could properly reveal anything to them.

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Bobby tells them that everyone is going to have a big get together in the town of Kansas at a pub the following afternoon. Sam and Dean agree that they’ll be there. While Bobby waves to them goodbye and gets in the car, Eileen gives Dean a look, indicating that she wants to talk to Sam alone. Dean obliges with a little smile. Eileen asks Sam if he’s feeling okay after the wound from the previous hunt (they would’ve already texted about it.) During this conversation, Eileen asks if he and Dean are okay but Sam says he’s not sure. She questions him a bit more and Sam reveals to her that Dean wants to quit the hunting life for good. She can tell by the look on Sam’s face that he’s bothered by this, but she can also see a slight hint of understanding too. She smiles at him warmly and places a hand on his cheek. They lock eyes. Sam begins to smile.

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Dean is back in the driver’s seat of the Impala and is watching Sam and Eileen with a sad smile. He looks down at the drivers wheel and the smile fades. He closes his eyes and after a few seconds, he whispers “Jack? Hey man, hope the new job is treating you well” Dean smirks, but it fades quickly and his face resorts back to the grim look of...despair. “I know you said you wouldn’t be hands on, I get that, and I thank you. Another Chuck isn’t what we need right now. But...Cas, he didn’t deserve what he got. I didn’t ask you this before you left because everything was so crazy and we had just defeated Chuck you know, and I know it's only been a few weeks but, please, please can you bring him back. He didn’t deserve to die for…

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Dean stops praying. He looks back to Sam and Eileen, who are still talking. Suddenly Jack appears next to Dean, just as a tear rolls down his face.

Jack greets Dean in usual fashion. Dean looks surprised and shocked, but glad to see him. Jack tries to explain to Dean that he can’t meddle in the Empty’s affairs as they’ve already poked and prodded it enough. Dean refutes this point by reminding Jack of what Cas would do, what any of them would do if one of them was in the same position. They continue to discuss Cas and the Empty and how it could work, but by the end Jack doesn’t speak. Both of them sit in silence.

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After a while Jack turns to Dean and says “I’ll do what I can, but if it’s not possible then I’m sorry.” Dean nods his head but before Jack disappears, Jack says “Dean, I know it might be hard to understand right now but there is so much to be done in the universe. Things that have to be put right, Chuck messed up and now me and Amara have to balance things out. I know that sounds like I’m interfering but we aren’t. We are ensuring that things are allowed to be as they are, instead of them becoming something else. That’s why I have to leave this world very soon, I only have till tomorrow afternoon for me to try and get Cas back. After that, it will be a while before I can return, and even then I don’t know when exactly I’ll be back. I also can’t stay too long in the Empty either after what happened before. I still have to respect it’s power and the fact that I don’t have any real control over it. I’m sorry, Dean.” Jack disappears before Dean can say anything else. Just then, Dean notices Sam walking towards the Impala and wipes away the tears. As Sam sits down, he asks Dean if he’s okay, and Dean responds “Yeah, all good here.” They drive off.

The next scene is Dean sitting in his room on his laptop, a few beers by the side of the bed. He looks toward his table on the other side of the room. A paper lies on top. Dean appears conflicted, but decides to go over and pick up the paper. We see it’s a job form.

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Sam is sitting down at the table in the library. He’s also on his laptop and seems very focused on something on screen. Suddenly he grabs his laptop and stands up. He walks through the bunker to the door of Dean’s room. He goes to knock but pauses. He looks back to the laptop, where we can see a news posting saying that three people have turned up dead with their throats ripped out. Sam and Dean both sigh at the same time (Sam would be seen sighing and then quickly cut to Dean sighing too.)

Dean grabs a pen and goes to write on the job form, just as Sam knocks on the door. They greet each other, and both are a little startled. Sam asks Dean what he’s doing and Dean briefly looks at the form, but ends up saying it's nothing. Sam tells him about the case he’s found and Dean’s face tenses, which Sam notices.

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“Or not, if you didn’t feel like it.” said Sam.

“No. No, it's fine” says Dean, who sighs, stands up and then asks where it is again. Once Sam finishes telling him, Dean looks back at the job form.

“Sammy, I don’t think I’ll be going” says Dean

“Oh, okay, no worries, I’ll just call one of the other hunters” says Sam

“I don’t think I’ll be going on any more hunts.” Dean finally says.

Sam doesn’t respond and is taken aback. Neither of them talk for a moment. (There would be a wide shot from inside the room, showing them standing still and silent.)

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Dean takes the job form from the table and hands it to Sam, who looks at it. He doesn’t take his eyes off it.

“I applied a few days ago, and I’ve got an interview the day after tomorrow. But, it’s in Denver Colorado. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t know how you’d react” said Dean.

“Dean, I...I mean, I’m happy for you. I am. It’s just...I don’t know, it’s a big thing you know. But I thought we were done keeping secrets from each other, I thought we were over that crap” said Sam.

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“This was different,” said Dean plainly.

“How?” asks Sam.

“Me, the guy who was destined to hunt till the day he dropped. You know this, that was who I was. Going out in a blaze of glory, bloody on a hunt” said Dean, “But now, everythings different. I realize now that...that isn’t who I am, and I can’t be destined for just that. If I was, then Chuck should’ve won. Because I’ll be damned if I let that be my ending. I’ve gotta write my own, and now with Chuck gone I finally have that chance. I can’t waste it Sammy.” As he says those last words, a few tears have fallen down his face.

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Sam ponders Dean’s words for a few seconds then asks.

“What about me? What am I supposed to do?”

Dean doesn’t respond.

*a soft rendition of the piano solo in Americana plays, similar to the one played in 15x18, but softer and less solumn*

Dean looks sad, but also confident in his decision. Sam looks uncertain.

Sam says:

“I can’t do this alone”

Dean responds with a sad smile:

“Yes you can”

Sam says:

“Well i don’t want to”

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Slowly, through facial expressions, Sam recognizes those words, and remembers that fateful night when Dean came to pick him up from college; when Dad was on a hunting trip, and he hadn’t been home in a few days. His face turns into a sad smile. A tear rolls down his face. Dean now has a tear underneath his eye too as he looks at Sam.

Sam slowly hands back the job form to Dean (This would be a close up on the hand over process to emphasize the choice Sam is making through the motion of handing back Dean the job form) He puts his laptop down, and the two brothers hug. The two of them stand there together. The two have tears rolling down their cheeks.

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*piano solo ends*

*fade to black*

*fade in on the Impala outside the bunker*

Sam is leaning against it and is texting on his phone.

Text appears at the bottom of the screen saying its the next day

Dean exits the bunker and asks if Sam has got the address of the place where everyone is getting together and Dean confirms he does and that it's on the edge of town. He mentions that Bobby had been working on it for a while before the whole Chuck thing and he said that it was a surprise. Whatever that means.

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As the brothers are driving into town, Sam asks what time the interview is and Dean says that it's at 9am the next day so he will have to leave that night if he’s going to get a good sleep and be up early the next day. The time at that point would be around 3pm. Dean then asks how he and Eileen are, and Sam says that they’re going good, but mentions that she was a bit shaken from being Thanos snapped (he wouldn’t actually say Thanos snapped but something like it.)

The two sit in silence for a while, until Dean puts on the radio. ‘Back in Black’ starts playing. The two smile and look at each other, before turning back to the road. They continue driving.

They finally reach the pub and get out of the Impala. As they stare at the exterior, a gentle rendition of the first section of Americana plays (the opening minute) but this time it’s slower and almost sounds distant, and wistful. The two brothers look at each other before approaching the door. Dean checks the time, and looks concerned. Before they can open the bar door themselves, Charlie opens it and looks gleefully at the two before embracing them both in a group hug.

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“I’ve been waiting for you guys!” says Charlie.

“Hey Charlie, how’s it hanging?” asks Dean

“Come have a look” she says with a smirk, before leading them inside. The bar is revealed to be one that resembles the old Harvelle’s Roadhouse. There is already a crowd of people, friendly faces and some unknown people. Sam and Dean reunite with a lot of fan favorite characters, however, Dean still looks slightly pensive. Sam takes notice of this and puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder. They look at each other just as the lights in the bar begin to dim and a piano solo starts playing. The song being played is the exact same version of Carry on My Wayward Son that was played in Season 10 Episode 5 titled Fan Fiction. This time, there isn’t any vocals, it’s just the piano solo. It continues until the part in the song where it would say “...don’t you cry no more”, then suddenly the doors open and Jack slowly walks through. The outside light shines through and is almost blinding to Sam and Dean who are covering their eyes with their hands. The music stops, and Jack steps aside to reveal someone. Dean lowers his arm and sees a friend standing before him. Someone who had been there for Dean through thick and thin. Someone who loved him no matter what Dean had though of himself.

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“Cas?” he murmurs, before running to him and embracing him with a tight hug. Jack closes the door and the light adjusts. Suddenly a male voice starts singing from the stage. Everyone but Dean and Cas look. The voice is the lead singer of Kansas, who begins singing the classic version of Carry On My Wayward Son.

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Dean and Cas lock eyes, and as the words “lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more” are said, Dean and Cas place their foreheads together and smile while holding each other. Sam looks at them with a smile, just as Dean turns to him. The song kicks in at that moment with the instrumentals. Everyone is dancing now just as Sam, Dean, Cas and Jack all reunite together in one shot. They all sing along to the song with everyone else. It then cuts to different shots of them standing and laughing as well as interacting with other characters like Jody and Bobby or Eileen. In one of the shots, Sam and Eileen kiss and Dean looks at them with pride. The next shot is his hand, and someone else’s hand interlocks with his. It cuts back to Dean’s face smiling, as he turns to Cas, who is also smiling.

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When the song finally comes to a close, Sam and Dean are both standing out front. They are leaning against the Impala.

“I guess that was one hell of a curtain call” says Dean.

“I wouldn’t call it that” says Sam with a chuckle.

“Even if this is the end for now, at least it’s our ending. Not Chuck’s, not anyone else’s”

“Damn straight”

Dean smiles, and checks his phone. From here, the exact same scene on the bridge at the end of the real finale would play out. But in this version, instead of walking up to the railing and looking out over a valley, Dean would hug Sam, then get in the Impala and begin driving off. The music would also be identical too.

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As the guitar riff is playing the main theme (like in the original scene, its when it cuts to a wide shot and pans out) It cuts to a close up of Dean and it slowly zooms into his face smiling with a tear in his eye, then it cuts to a medium shot of Sam standing tall and proud. Bobby, Cas, Jack, Eileen, Jody, Charlie, Donna, Garth, walk up next to him as the music rises. Then it cuts to an extremely wide shot from up above, showing the Impala driving away down the long road with the sunset in the distance as well as Sam and the rest of their family standing outside the bar watching Dean drive off. The End.

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So that was my ideal finale. It’s not perfect by any means and there’s no massive final confrontation, and the emotional arcs could be more fleshed out and explored. Also, the explanation for how Jack convinced the Empty to give back Cas would also need to be explained but I didn’t want to give a massive exposition dump in this already long video.

I hope you liked it and I hope that it was at least a bit more satisfying than the actual finale.

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To conclude, I genuinely believe that Supernatural had the opportunity to give it’s audience a revolutionary kind of conclusion. It had the chance to be one of the most satisfying endings to any TV show ever made. It had the chance to be something more...and yet, it utterly failed in everything it attempted and sadly destroyed 15 years of build up, progress, and intricate character development for a finale that squandered not only the limitless and amazing potential it had, but it also squandered many fan’s passion for the show itself. At least that’s how I feel. If the show had even ended on Episode 19, then it would’ve been an incredibly rushed and convoluted conclusion but it would’ve been satisfying and I’m sure in time the people who didn’t like the episode much would have eventually come around to it.

But at the end of the day, if you liked or loved this finale then I am happy for you. Regardless of my feelings towards this finale, I know what it feels like to love a piece of media that most people hate.

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That’s me with HTTYD 3. But that’s a topic for another day. What I want to say is that if you do love this finale then all the power to you. While I personally hate it, that should not take away from your love towards it.

#spn #supernatural #spnfinale #supernaturalfinale #dean winchester #sam winchester #pie #cw #spnessay #finale #seriesfinale #bidean #cas #thiswasashitending #badfinale

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