#okay technically she points at her right after that line but STILL

[supernovafics]

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k words

warnings: explicit language, (slight) jealous!steve, brief mention of blood/injury (reader has a lil fall)

summary: in which everything has changed for steve after that night at the bar and morning in your bed, but he hasn’t admitted that to you yet. being honest is much harder than he thought it would be and no moment feels completely right, so he continues to pretend that nothing has changed. but, a day at the park playing basketball with you makes it feel a thousand times harder to keep the secret

author's note: the slow burn will end one day (eventually) (i promise) i just love dragging things out for absolutely no reason<3 (i’m sorry!)<333 anyways enjoy this very slight jealous!steve moment! he’s a bit of an asshole in this but also like not really and it’s only kinda for a second

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1986

It actually wasn’t all that surprising when Steve asked you to go to the park— that Saturday marked the first slightly warm day in months. 

And maybe saying that he “asked you” was a bit of a stretch because this felt more like a hostage situation; one that you technically orchestrated since, as one of his Christmas presents, you promised that you would play basketball with him one time. And today, on one of the first few days of March, he decided to drag you out of the apartment and to the park that was a quick drive away and had semi-nice basketball courts. 

You changed out of your typical Saturday attire, which simply consisted of a hoodie and shorts, and into a cream-colored t-shirt that said, “Sports Suck. And you do too” in black lettering, Steve got it for you for your birthday, and it felt almost too fitting for this moment. You also had on a pair of black athletic shorts that had been your usual attire during high school gym class.

“You’re the only person that I would ever subject myself to doing this for,” You said to Steve as you stepped out of his car and grabbed the basketball that had been sitting at your sneaker covered feet during the drive. “So, I hope you understand how huge of a deal this is.” 

Steve laughed a bit. “I know, and I feel honored that you’re risking your life by doing this for me right now.”

“You say that jokingly, but I brought a first aid kit just in case this ends badly,” You said and handed the basketball over to him. “So, what’s first? A riveting round of HORSE?”

“Before we play any games, and I beat you at all of them, let’s just shoot around for a bit so you can get used to it. Was the last time you played basketball really at my eleventh birthday party?” He asked, shooting the ball from a little bit in front of the three-point line as he spoke and making it almost too effortlessly. 

You grabbed the ball as it bounced on the court and then took a shot. You were standing much closer to the basket than Steve had been but still missed. 

“If that didn’t just answer your question, yes, your birthday party was the last time I even thought about playing. I actually think it was that day that made me realize I should stay away from all sports.”

“You hadn’t been that bad back then.”

You gave him a look. “Steve, I hit your grandma with a basketball. I missed a shot so bad that it hit her.”

It was that day that you were banned from using the basketball hoop in Steve’s backyard, rightfully so. 

“Okay, yeah, but she was fine and forgave you immediately. And even made sure you got an extra piece of cake when you started crying because of how bad you felt,” He said, tossing the ball to you so that you could try another shot. 

“Still doesn’t change the fact that I’m horrible at this,” You said before taking a breath and shooting the ball. You missed again, but it at least hit the rim that time. 

“That’s progress,” Steve said and gave you an encouraging smile.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Exactly twenty-three minutes had passed, and the only reason that you were keeping close track of the time was because when Steve had dragged you out of the apartment, you told him that you’d only be playing for an hour; unless you somehow turned into a prodigy. 

You had lost count of how many times you shot the basketball, but you knew that the number of times you successfully made a basket was four. It was an embarrassingly low number, and you definitely were not a prodigy, but each time you surprisingly made a shot, you’d gasp in shock and Steve would whoop happily and give you an enthusiastic high five while saying that the pointers he was giving you were working. You weren’t entirely sure that was true— and it wasn’t because he was a bad teacher, you were just a bad student. You were certain that each shot you made was based on pure luck and simple probability; if you kept shooting the ball, you’d eventually end up making something. 

And when you told Steve exactly that, he only shook his head at you. “No, you made those four shots because you’re good.” 

How happy and positive he was being about this entire thing was the only thing that made it bearable. 

You laughed a bit. “I love you and your encouragement, but that is such an overstatement.”

“For someone that hasn’t even touched a basketball in eight years, you are good.” 

“Thank you,” You said with an amused smile on your face instead of rebutting his statement. “I’ll make sure to try out for the local rec team when the time comes.” 

“That’s a great idea. I’ll coach you to help you prepare,” Steve said jokingly, and you only laughed in response. 

You were about to ask him to toss you the ball, but a group of guys walking past you two, probably headed to the empty hoop on the other side of the court, caught your attention for a second instead. There were four of them and one smiled at you as he passed by you and Steve and he was kind of cute so you smiled back. 

You were completely unaware, but there was something about that smile you gave the guy that made Steve have to look away from the entire nonverbal interaction and focus on the basketball in his hand instead. All too quickly he wanted to blurt it all out, everything that had hit him so abruptly that morning in your bed barely two weeks ago. 

I love you. I’m in love with you.

For the most part, that thought was the only thing that consumed his mind these days, especially when you two were together; which of course was way more often than not. 

There had probably been at least a hundred moments where he almost accidentally let it slip. Hours after it all had hit him, you two were sitting on the couch mindlessly watching some random sitcom and you leaned your head on his shoulder and he was so close to simply whispering it to you. And then when you two were in your Film and TV history class that Tuesday and writing unserious notes back and forth to one another in the margins of his notebook, he wanted to just write the five words down and slide the notebook back over to you. And just last night when you two were driving to the movie theater to see something with Robin and Eddie, he felt the urge to say it when a stupid love song that felt as if it cheesily summed up exactly how he was feeling came on the radio. 

However, he would always bite his tongue right before he told you because he was waiting for that perfect moment to be honest with you, and nothing felt entirely right just yet. And it especially didn’t feel like a good time in this moment where you were smiling at some guy that wasn’t him and a certain feeling that could only be deemed as jealousy sat in the pit of his stomach. 

Steve cleared his throat, bringing your attention back to him and then he tossed the ball to you. “Your turn.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The first round of HORSE was started and finished barely fifteen minutes later, quickly ending with Steve winning. Even though you could tell that he was going very easy on you and trying to let you win, you still somehow managed to lose. 

“This loss feels so much more embarrassing knowing that you were trying to let me win,” You had said after you missed your shot and got an “E.” 

“I wasn’t,” Steve told you with a shake of his head and you only gave him a look that said you didn’t believe him. 

You reached down to grab the ball and stop it from rolling away, but you somehow tripped over nothing but your own feet and landed hard on the ground. 

You yelped as you collided with the concrete. Luckily, you thought fast enough to put your hands out so that you didn’t completely faceplant. “Ouch. Shit.” 

Steve was by your side in an instant and started helping you up. “Are you okay?”

You could only shrug in response to his question at first as you stood up with the help of his hand on your arm. 

“Okay, just kidding, that moment was a lot more embarrassing than losing the game,” You told him. When you looked down and saw the deep scrape on your knee and the blood already starting to rise from the wound, you immediately had to look away from it. “I put the first aid kit in the backseat.”

“What? You actually brought it? I thought you were joking,” Steve said, keeping an arm around you as he helped you walk over to the car and opened the passenger side door so that you could sit down. 

“Of course, I wasn’t joking. It felt inevitable that something like this would happen,” You said as you sat sideways in the passenger seat so that your feet were on the ground, and then you grabbed a couple napkins from the glove compartment to place it on your knee and help stop the bleeding. “Honestly, I’m surprised this didn’t happen in the first five minutes.”  

Steve grabbed the first aid kit before kneeling down in front of you and you looked at the four guys down at the end of the court. They were playing a two against two game and the one that smiled at you earlier just made a shot at the three-point line. 

You stopped looking at him and instead focused on the top of Steve’s head. “Ugh, I can’t believe I just fell in front of that cute guy.” 

“Maybe he didn’t even see,” Steve mumbled with a quick shrug.

“I doubt that,” You said and then sighed. “These last few weeks have been very humbling. First, things immediately going downhill with Jamie, and now this.” 

Steve didn’t know how things had ended with Jamie, you had yet to tell him the exact reasoning, but selfishly he had been glad that they did. Although he couldn’t find it in him to tell you the truth just yet, the thought of now having to see you with anyone else annoyed him. 

You tapped his shoulder so that he would look up at you. “It would be a bad idea if I went up to him and asked for his number, right?” 

“Yeah, it would,” Steve answered, pulling his eyes away from yours and focusing on grabbing something from the first aid kit instead. His words were a lie, for the most part— he personally would’ve thought it was cute if a girl did that to him. He immediately felt like shit for lying to you, but not enough to go back on what he said. 

You nodded at his response. “Okay.”

You kept your eyes away from what Steve was doing as he cleaned up your knee, looking up at the sky instead until he was done and placing the large band-aid over it. 

“Thanks,” You said and smiled at him. 

He looked up at you for a brief moment before standing up and simply giving you a small nod. He went over to grab the basketball, which had rolled into the grass, and then put it in the backseat. 

The drive back to the apartment was quiet and it felt more like Steve’s doing than yours. He suddenly seemed distant, maybe even mad at you, and the abrupt shift felt so odd.

You looked over at him. “What’s wrong?” 

He shook his head. “I’m fine.” 

It felt pretty clear that he wasn’t fine, though. You could tell that he was annoyed at you for reasons that you couldn’t decipher and that only made you annoyed as well. You didn’t even play with the radio during the drive back to the apartment, you just sat there with your arms folded across your chest as you stared out the window. 

You wondered if the prevailing silence bothered him as much as it bothered you, but then that question didn’t even matter because he was pulling into the parking lot of the apartment building and parking in the usual open spot next to your car, and you were unbuckling your seatbelt. 

“What happened with you and Jamie?” Steve asked before you could open the door and step out of his car. “You never really talked about it.” 

The abruptness of the question surprised you; and it wasn’t even the question itself that was the surprising part, it was more so the timing of it. Was that why he decided to randomly get mad at you? Because you never told him what happened on that dumb date? And why the hell would it even matter at this point? 

You weren’t even entirely sure why you hadn’t told Steve the full extent of what happened. When you came back from the date that night, you only said that things had gone badly. 

You turned to look at Steve. “He didn’t like you.” 

His eyebrows furrowed at that. “What?”

“Well, not you necessarily, but us; our friendship,” You said, looking down at your band-aid-covered knee. “When me and him went on the date, he asked about what my emergency was and why I had to cancel the date the first time, and I told him about your accidental phone call and you being drunk at the bar and me having to go get you, and he didn’t see that as much of an emergency; especially since you had wanted Eddie to pick you up. He thought it was a little weird how easily I canceled plans to go do something for you, and the whole night kind of shifted awkwardly from there.”

You remembered that entire conversation perfectly, and you honestly couldn’t even get that annoyed with Jamie when he said any of that because you didn’t think that your priorities would ever be able to change. Steve would probably always be at the top of your unwritten list, and you had come to the conclusion that whoever else wanted to be in your life would just have to deal with that. 

“Oh.”

You looked at him curiously. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve shook his head. “I’m sorry.” 

Hearing him say that only confused you. “Sorry for what?”

He was quiet for a long moment before sighing. “I don’t know…” 

“Is that why you were mad at me just now? Because I didn’t tell you what happened on the date?”

“No, I don’t even know why I brought it up right now, I was just curious,” He said with a shrug before meeting your gaze. “And I’m not mad at you for anything. I promise.” 

“Okay…” You said as you found one of his hands and gave it a light squeeze. “So, what’s up with you? Clearly, something’s wrong, right? Is it something with your parents?”

“No, nothing with them,” He responded, which was an answer that only confused you more. It looked like there were a thousand things going through his head right then, and you couldn’t seem to decipher any of it, which felt foreign to you— you were so used to reading him like a book. “It’s just… it’s kind of hard to explain right now.”

If it really had nothing to do with his parents, you were unsure what else it could be and what else would be difficult to talk to you about. In your head, there wasn’t supposed to be anything that you couldn’t talk to each other about; you were best friends for a reason. It was easy to joke around and playfully banter with one another, but it had also always been easy to have the types of deep and honest conversations that neither of you would ever have with anyone else. 

You decided not to push him further in this moment, though. Whatever was going on with him, you knew that he’d tell you eventually. 

“It’s okay. Tell me whenever you want to,” You said softly and then decided to say your next words jokingly to shift the mood a bit. “But stop being weird about whatever it is, or I will think that you hate me or something.”

Steve only shook his head at your words at first. “I could never hate you.”

Maybe that was when you should’ve seen it, when you should’ve realized how he felt about you. There was something about the way he said his short statement— so certainly, so truthfully— that should’ve made you connect all of the dots. But, that was the last possible thing on your mind. You would’ve thought that he wanted to move out of the apartment for some random reason before you even considered thinking that he had any sort of romantic feelings toward you. You two had been friends for forever so that just didn’t sound like a plausible thought. 

Therefore, instead of any sort of “aha!” moment hitting you right then, you smiled playfully at Steve and said, “Good.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington series

[hollowdeath]

hii! I love love loveee ur harry fic. can I request a modern au where harry and fem reader are both famous actors, they get paired up to do a movie where they have to do a s3x scene, and things get pretty heated off set as well ~

hi! thank you so much for requesting, i really enjoyed writing this! i hope you like it!

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)

summary: you're filming your first romance movie that features a sex scene with harry potter (early 20's), an actor you've only ever seen on the big screen. despite both of your nerves, a growing chemistry between you two leads to something more in the dressing room.

content warning: smut!!! dry humping, oral sex, penetration

word count: 8.7k (i can't write short blurbs i swear lol)

you were currently sitting in the hair and makeup chair chatting with the stylist about each other's respective careers, laughing and messing around before your official call time. you always went out of your way to talk to the crew on any set you worked, not just to be respectful, but also to make everyone comfortable around you right away.

it was a little hard to grasp from your perspective as you were only thrust into the spotlight a few years ago, but you were in enough successful movies that you were now pretty recognizable to most people. not that long ago you were just like everyone else, a fan of celebrities yourself who went to premiers and fawned over meeting them. today, those same people are technically your coworkers. it's something you're still learning to accept as your new normal.

that being the case, it was easy for people to feel a bit intimidated by you. you were well-liked, by both fans and people in the industry, and already highly-acclaimed with quite a few notable awards/nominations under your belt in just a couple years. and while you took your acting seriously, in your real life you were very different from the stoic characters you played. funny, warm, personable, always trying to lighten the mood - you were a pleasure to work with in every sense, so the intimidating preconception people had of you would quickly melt away.

"wow, jen, it must be so cool being able to work with so many celebrities all around the world," you sighed. the stylist, jenny, gives you a bewildered look in the reflection of the mirror. "well, you do that too y'know? you're one of those celebrities that people will ask me, 'oh my god, what's she like?'" she laughs at you, finishing up the final details of your hair.

you give her a half smile, feeling a blush rise on your cheeks. "okay, well, i guess…but it's not the same. i'd love to travel as much as you do. i know it's for work, but i'm sure you get to see some pretty incredible places," you gush. jenny smiles back at you.

"i do, it's nice and all, but you get to be on the big screen with some pretty handsome faces," she teases. "i mean, that movie with timothee you just did?" she practically moans. "i would do anything for that boy," she laughs.

your blush only worsens. being a young woman in the industry you're very often paired with actors around your age, almost always men, to have a romance plot line with. it seems like no matter how artistic, action-packed, or sad the movie is, they just can't let you leave without having you makeout with said actor at least a million times before getting 1 good take. after a while it becomes so routine that it loses all novelty. kissing becomes meaningless and these 'heartthrobs' just become coworkers to you.

"please, timothee's like my brother at this point," you roll your eyes, pulling out your phone to check the time. just a few more minutes before you have to leave and be on set. "and i'd much rather do his makeup than makeout with him in front of everyone again," you laugh, putting your phone back in your pocket.

"well, y'know, i was doing the potter boy's makeup just before i came in. wouldn't mind making out with him a few times, lucky duck," she teases you, starting to pack up her equipment.

harry potter. the name was familiar to you. he was an actor around your age who started getting more roles at the same time you did. you always seemed to miss each other at award shows and premiers, so you haven't been properly introduced yet, but you had been somewhat excited to work with him on this movie.

it was your first proper romance, a book adaptation that you had actually read just a few years prior on your own. you knew the director well and you were his first choice when casting the lead role. at first you were a bit hesitant to accept because you didn't even enjoy the little romance you did in your previous movies, so you weren't sure how you'd feel doing an entire film centered on it. but robert, the director, had convinced you to at least read the script, and you were hooked from there.

it was less of a romance and more of a drama, focused on the downfall of a marriage due to the wife, you, having an affair. that's where potter came in. you learned he was cast for the role of the 'side piece' only a month or so before filming began, and you weren't sure how to feel. on one hand, like jenny said, he wasn't bad looking from what you had seen in his films. however, when you previously did these types of scenes with costars, you at least knew them previously and could be friendly with them between takes. you had never met potter, not even seen him off-screen, and now you have to have an entire affair with him on camera.

that's another thing. you've only ever done heated kissing scenes before, maybe a little undressing and implied nudity, but nothing too explicit. this would be your first real 'sex scene', which just added another layer of awkwardness to the situation on top of not even knowing the basics about each other. to say you were anxious about filming those scenes would be an understatement.

"then you can take my place, cuz i'm not looking forward to it. you know i've never even met him before?" you ask as you stand up from the chair, stretching your body after sitting for over 2 hours. "just gonna introduce myself like, 'yeah, hi, i'm [y/n], nice to meet you. you ready to pretend to fuck passionately for the next 4 hours in front of the catering staff?'" you joke, putting on a voice and pretending to shake jenny's hand. she laughs at you, pulling her hand back and waving you away.

"oh hush, you're gonna do just fine. hell, you might even like it." she gives you a smirk as you just laugh her off. you exchange goodbyes with her, wishing her well and thanking her excessively for her time.

as you're walking through a maze of hallways to find your set, you run into robert. he looks like he's seen a ghost when you greeted him.

"oh…[y/n]...i've been meaning to talk to you…" he says nervously, trying to keep his tone positive. you narrow your eyes at him. you've worked with robert long enough to know when he's about to tell you something he knows will annoy you.

"robert…" you warn him, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. he sighs. "look, just walk with me." he tells you as he walks away, motioning you to follow.

as you catch up to him, he begins trying to find the best way to break the news to you. "see, well…we uh…we think it's best if, uh…maybe…" he stammers, causing you to look at him with concern. you've never seen him this nervous to tell you something. "what? just spit it out, rob." you tell him.

he sighs again, rubbing his forehead. "look, casting just isn't sure on this potter kid yet. we've shot a couple of his solo scenes already, but…" he trails off, trying to find the words again.

"but…?" you ask confused. he gives you an apologetic look. "but…we just need to see his chemistry with you first." robert says. you're just more confused, staring at him blankly. robert slows to a stop and turns to you, his hands raised in innocence.

"it's not my idea, but cast wants you and potter to shoot the sex scene today so they can decide if we're keeping him or not," he admits regretfully.

you're completely dumbfounded. there's a few moments of silence before you can even conjure up a response. "what?"

he sighs yet again, clearly stressed about the situation. "i know, trust me, i know, you weren't excited to do this scene to begin with but…think about it this way," his voice turns to the same fake positivity to try and reassure you.

"if we shoot all the lovey dovey stuff first just to find out there's no chemistry during the sex scene, then we just wasted all your time, all his time, and a lot of money…" he reasons with a strained voice. you're still giving him a death glare, arms crossed, not buying his excuses.

"robert, that doesn't even make any sense. wouldn't we build chemistry over time like any other movie? i thought i had at least a couple weeks to get to know this kid before… you know…" you trail off, blushing from both frustration and embarrassment.

"i know, i know, but cast is really pushing for this other guy, but i've wanted potter in this role as long as i've wanted you as my lead." he says desperately, his hands literally pleading with you. "please, [y/n], i know this isn't cool of me, but i'll do anything you need from me for the rest of filming. for the rest of my life!" he's joking, but there's a hint of seriousness in his voice. "just, please?"

you're still glaring at him, not happy that you're being put in this predicament. you take a second to breathe, trying to think past your anger, and see this from an outside perspective. realistically, even if you and potter did have chemistry outside of the sex scene, it didn't necessarily mean it would transfer over. by filming that first and getting it out of the way, there would be no awkward building of tension over the next few weeks knowing what's to come. and who's to say there even is any chemistry? then they'd end up having to switch him out for an entirely different actor, which could up a lot of time for paperwork and legal fees…

sighing, uncrossing your arms, you give robert a look of defeat. "fine."

robert's relieved, thanking you profusely as he continues to show you the way to the stage. he's trying to babble on about how you're going to do great, and there's nothing to be afraid of, but you can't focus on his words even a little bit because your heart is thumping so loud.

as you walk into the bustling room with robert leading the way, you can't help but search the room for potter's face. you want to at least see who you're going to be dry humping from 4 different angles.

recognizing different crew members you've worked with before, you smile and say hello to each of them as you continue analyzing each face in the room. you only kind of know what he looks like, so it might be a fruitless search, but it's the only thing that can distract you from your growing anxiety.

robert brings you to the catering table, telling you to make sure you eat and drink some water before being pulled into conversation with someone else and, eventually, leaving you behind completely. whatever, you think, he wasn't helping anyway.

grabbing for a water bottle, you drink at least half of it before feeling a tap on your shoulder. you're twisting the cap back on as you turn around.

harry potter.

you can instantly tell it's him, though he's now wearing glasses, something you don't remember seeing in his movies. he has a shy, nervous smile as he offers you his hand. "[y/f/n] [y/l/n], right? i'm harry potter," he introduces himself. "i guess we'll be filming together for the day."

you smile and shake his hand. "harry, hi, it's nice to meet you. and, yeah, i guess so…" you reply shyly, noticing that your hands are sweating, as well as his. he chuckles just a bit, reaching for a water bottle as well.

"yeah, i take it robert talked to you already?" he asks before he takes a drink. you nod, giving him an awkward smile. "he did…" you chuckle as well. "just a minute ago, actually."

harry nods in return. "yeah, he came by my room not even an hour ago to let me know." he states.

there's a few moments of awkward silence between the two of you before harry sighs and sets his water bottle down. he turns to you with his hands up just like robert.

"look, let's not be coy, yeah? this is weird as hell." harry states bluntly, a look of guilt on his face.

you let out a surprised laugh, setting your water bottle down as well. you turn to him, giving him your attention, curious to see what else he has to say.

harry briefly looks you up and down, his hands still raised. there's a hint of anxiety in his eyes before he blinks and shakes his head. "and, i'm just a big fan of yours in general, and this is really not how i wanted my first sex scene to play out, especially with you…" he emphasizes, his eyes widening at his own words.

"not that i didn't want it to happen at all, i definitely did, just, like…" he groans, throwing his head back and covering his face with his hands in frustration. you can't help but giggle at his nervous antics. you didn't know what to expect in terms of his personality, but you certainly didn't think he'd be so humble and shy. most actors you meet close to your age are either full of themselves or try too hard to be something they're not. you've made friends with plenty who aren't like that, but it's definitely more common than you expected.

with harry, however, he seemed very honest right away. he wasn't putting on a face to impress you, if anything he was failing miserably at that…but you found it really admirable. he reminded you of yourself, in a way.

after hearing you giggle at him, harry looks back at you with flushed cheeks. his brunette hair, an already messy fringe, was now even more disheveled. you continue to giggle at his expression, covering your smile as you look him up and down as well. tired converse, blue jeans, a maroon zip up, and a plain blue polo. you'd never think this kid was a famous actor based on his appearance. even his glasses looked old and bent out of shape.

but again, you found it admirable. no designer names, no flashy accessories. not that you found anything wrong with either of those things, it's just what you're used to seeing. it was refreshing, harry's simplicity.

he awkwardly chuckles with you, wringing his hands together nervously. "uh, what i'm meaning to say is…" he trails off. you interrupt his thoughts. "i know what you're saying," you reassure him. he looks back up at you. "you do?"

you laugh again. he's oddly innocent despite his age. "i do. i've never done this before, either." you admit. "oh, i know, i've seen all of your films plenty of times," harry beams, his nervousness melting away a bit. you're taken aback by his statement. "oh?" you respond.

he nods proudly. "oh yeah, i'm just a big film person in general so i'm constantly watching them at home. or on the plane. or in the dressing rooms…" he laughs. you smile warmly at him. again, something about him is so genuine to you. not afraid to be a fan.

"but, anyways, yeah, i just love your work. and i know you've worked with robert before, so i was over the moon when i heard he wanted me to work with you guys. that was one of my favorite films that year, y'know? definitely deserved more recognition than it got." harry rambles. 

blushing, you give him an incredulous look. "yeah, we have worked together before. i-i loved that film." you're clearly impressed with his knowledge of you and of cinema in general. that film wasn't even all that popular, and definitely not your most well-received work as far as the critics went. "thank you. really."

harry's smiling at you, admiring you in a way.

you blink a few times to come back to reality. "u-um, i love your work, too. i actually just went and saw your most recent one twice, before robert even told me we'd be working together." 

harry's shocked, his mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. "you…you've seen my movies?" he asks with a slight smile.

again, you can't help but giggle at him. his humility just keeps surprising you. "of course i have. you're not the only actor who enjoys films, y'know?" you tease him. he laughs, shaking his head.

"yeah, i'm…i'm just surprised, i figured you might not be familiar with me at all, really," he shrugs, still sounding in shock.

"well, we always miss each other at shows and such, i always meant to introduce myself, but…" you trail off. "i know! tell me about it! i've wanted to meet you for ages, seriously," harry gushes. 

smirking, you cross your arms and shift your weight. "well, what do you think now that we've met?" you ask, mostly sarcastically but also curious about his response.

he clears his throat, the nervousness coming back slightly. "u-uh, well, um…" he stumbles. "quite honestly, i didn't think you could be more beautiful in person." he admits like a schoolboy with a crush.

his response gives you butterflies. he's so adorably innocent, but such a gentleman at the same time. at no point does his admiration for you feel manufactured or forced. it's like he's truly just happy to be with you in this moment.

"well…thank you, harry," you respond. "you're not so bad yourself. i really adore the glasses." you admit with a blushing smile.

harry perks up immediately. "really?" he asks, excited and shocked at the same time. "they're prescription, actually, i'm blind as a bat…but no director wants me to wear them, they say i look like a total nerd," harry laughs, but you can tell it saddens him.

"nerds are hot." you shrug. harry's stunned for a moment before chuckling, his eyes softening for you. "right."

you and harry continue to chat for a while, losing all sense of time as the crew continue to work around you. you're mostly discussing films you both enjoy, and have incredibly similar taste. you love all the same directors, and grew up watching the same stuff.

this eventually leads to talking about both of your starts in acting, which are also strikingly similar. you discuss your experience so far as a woman in hollywood and he listens intently, asking questions with genuine curiosity and concern. he tells you about his experiences with theater growing up and the connections he made throughout his time performing.

you're completely enthralled with the conversation and feel like it could go on for days without any complaint. it's not until you hear robert calling both of your names that you look at the time and realize you've been talking with harry for nearly an hour and a half, but it feels like you just started 10 minutes ago.

harry follows you towards robert who's talking to the wardrobe team. you recognize a few faces and excitedly greet them, asking how everyone's been.

"potter, [y/n], these lovely folks are gonna walk you through how this works as far as clothing, don't be afraid to ask questions," robert told you both distractedly, his head already turned away before he ran off to help someone else out on set.

you and harry are separated and put into your respective outfits for your characters, as well as specific underwear for the scene. looking in the mirror at yourself in a simple dress, you can't help but feel the nerves coming back to you as you realize you actually have to film this scene with harry soon.

harry…

when you come back, he's already in his outfit and waiting for you. he's in an earth tone suit, his glasses taken off and his tie slightly undone. you have to admit that he looks extremely handsome, and decide to tell him so with a smirk. "says the most gorgeous girl in the room," he instantly quips, but you can see the blush blooming over his cheeks.

the wardrobe team basically teaches you both how to take off your clothes in a "movie style" that looks best on screen. specific movements can obstruct certain body parts from the camera, some take less time than others depending on what you're wearing, just little things that keep you from having to constantly reshoot the scene.

after a few tries of swiftly removing your dress, and taking glances at harry as he took his button-up off, you start to get the idea and have the motion memorized. you're laughing with one of the assistants you've met previously about the task and catching up with her in general. harry comes up behind you and also recognizes her, giving her a friendly hug. you're impressed with how personable he is with her, asking about her schooling and her roommates, parts of her life you hadn't even known about. you couldn't help but be in awe of him. he really was like you in so many ways.

before you get too comfortable, the wardrobe team informs you and harry that you have to also practice taking each other's clothes off for the camera. obviously, you thought, but you were still a bit shocked at the news.

you turned to harry, who's already waiting for you with that familiar smile. you smile back nervously. "hey, it's alright. it's just me." harry reassures you. the tone of his voice is so comforting it actually helps settle your nerves a decent amount.

both of you basically learn what the other person learned, you taking off harry's suit jacket and tie as he lifts your dress in one swift motion. the first run through you're a bit nervous and end up giggling most of the time. harry also laughs with you, making the atmosphere less tense. 

"feels like a dance, oddly enough," harry says, pretending to dance with you. you laugh and agree, dancing along with him.

after a few more awkward tries, you both start to get the hang of it and feel more comfortable with each other both physically and emotionally. you're cracking jokes, helping teach the other how to unclothe themselves quicker, just having a good time that comes so naturally to both of you. it doesn't take too many tries before you can efficiently take off each other's clothes without giggling or accidentally tickling the other.

before long you're both placed on set, a mock living room that resembles the apartment of harry's character. you and harry are given a few simple, non-sexual scenes to start with. the scripts are kept close by in case either of you need a refresher, but you both seem to have your lines memorized well and go through the scenes very naturally.

you were familiar with harry's acting of course, but something about how he performed his lines with you struck a different chord. his emotions were so raw, his timing felt natural, and his eyes told a whole story on their own. at one point you got so lost in them you missed a beat, quickly correcting yourself and focusing your gaze elsewhere.

you only had to redo them one or two times before moving on to the next scenes, which included kissing. you could feel your heart start to race again before harry's hands found their way to your shoulders from behind, a soft but firm grasp that sent chills down your spine.

"remember, it's just me," harry mumbles to you, coming around the side of you with a reassuring expression. somehow he knows exactly how to ease your nerves, and does it at the perfect times.

you're moved from the couch to the 'front door' area, where robert has you and harry mimic the steps he wants you to take before the cameras start rolling. "[y/n] opens the door, harry grabs her hand and pulls her back in," he directs you two like puppets as he shows you how and where to stand. 

harry has you by the hand, your palms still sweaty as he squeezes your hand for reassurance. you smile at him, and he smiles down at you before quickly looking back at robert's actions.

"harry backs her up to the door, back, back, back 'til it closes," harry's pressed against you, chuckling under his breath as he looks down at you. you try to hold back a smile.

"kissing, kissing, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda," robert calls out despondently, flipping a page in his notebook. "harry, you take her shoulders and push her against the east wall," robert points to the wall just next to the door, and harry lightly moves you to the other wall, keeping his body close to yours.

"really sweet, yeah, but make sure it's passionate!" robert says dramatically, making both you and harry laugh.

you're instructed on the best way to take each other's clothes off for the cameras, and practice only a bit before officially having to start to scene. in the lull between the cameras being placed properly and the lighting being set, you start to nervously crack your knuckles and try to steady your breathing.

harry appears in front of you. he lightly grabs your chin with his fingers and kisses you softly on the lips. you're a bit stunned at first but can feel butterflies erupting in your stomach. you look up at harry with wide eyes, and he's chuckling again. "sorry. just thought i'd get the first one off-camera."

your mind is jumbled and you're staring at harry with, undoubtedly, a ridiculous face. you can't even remember the last time a kiss made you feel this way, or if one has ever made you feel this way before.

you suppress another smile as robert calls for places. somehow you're now less nervous about making out with him, if anything…you're excited about it. that soft, gentle kiss he gave you left you wanting more. maybe he just knew kissing you before being filmed would make it feel more natural on camera.

the scene starts, harry pulls you through the doorway, and backs you up against it until the door clicks shut. you're looking up at harry with wanting eyes, exploring his face as the camera pans to your left. once it pauses, harry pulls you in for an eager kiss.

your hand goes to his jaw, keeping it out of the way of the camera's view. you realize after a second just how comfortable you are kissing harry. not only are you comfortable, you're actually getting into it. and so is harry.

as another camera pans towards the wall beside you, harry grips your shoulders firmly and pushes you against it, reconnecting your lips with a desperation that felt completely real to you. it only fired you up more, running your hands through harry's hair and arching your body closer to him as the kiss became hungrier.

"cut," robert calls out in a casual tone, causing harry to pause and take a step away from you. you look at him for only a second before you have to look away, crossing your arms, a blush completely taking over your face.

what the fuck was that?

you've made out with plenty of guys plenty of times, but not like that. not even off-screen have you been kissed so passionately. either harry was the best kisser in the world, or you were confusing your feelings with your character's.

"that was great, guys, no issues, just gotta readjust," robert informs you as he works with a camera guy to get the angle right. "harry, can you come in again?" he asks, motioning harry towards you.

harry steps closer to you, giving you a shy smile like he didn't just change your entire life with one kiss.

you smile back at him, still blushing, mind still spinning. he may be pretty cute with his glasses on, but at least without them you can get a better look at his pretty green eyes. you wondered for a split second if his glasses would get in the way of you making out with him, but you quickly dismiss the thought as he's your costar. one that you barely met 3 hours ago.

the camera gets adjusted, and you're directed to just continue to the undressing part of the scene. you look over at harry, getting closer to him as you mumble, "do you think it'll be difficult, kissing and undressing at the same time?"

harry gives you an unsure face, looking at his tie before loosening it a bit. "might be, i'll get it started for you," he says, unbuttoning the top couple button of his shirt as well. you smile at him a bit. "just take your time, i'll help you." he says. something about the way he looks at you lets you know he means it, and you believe him.

as the scene starts, harry pulls you in for another breath-taking kiss, and the butterflies erupt in your stomach yet again. you know something's not right about this. well, actually, everything couldn't feel more right with harry's lips pressed against yours, but that's the problem. you're way too into this for it to just be acting for a movie, and it seems like harry's just as into it, if not more.

you quickly start undressing him, pulling off his suit jacket as he helps you, repeating the steps you practiced together. except now you were trying to keep the kissing going smoothly.

your fingers began fumbling with harry's shirt buttons, getting it and his tie off just in time for him to pull the skirt of your dress above your head, resuming your kiss with an eagerness that surprised you.

"cut, nice, one more time, little bit quicker guys," robert calls out. you pull away from harry breathlessly before trying to put your dress back on. harry redresses as well, and a stylist comes from the side to fix the back of his hair. he thanks them by their name and with a smile.

you and harry resume the scene again, picking up the speed just a bit as you attempt to make out and undress at the same time. the quicker you both moved, the more intense the kiss became, as if neither of you wanted to stop for even a moment to breathe.

"cut, nice, thanks guys," robert calls out, walking away to the furthest camera man.

you and harry redress, making funny comments to each other about the scene as you do. you notice your lipstick is on harry's lips, and you giggle as you tell him he should maybe wipe it off. "maybe i like this shade on me," he says sassily. you just roll your eyes and laugh at him.

as you chat a bit more, robert eventually comes up to you guys with a script in hand. "okay guys, we're gonna do this quick and try to get it in one take if we can. we wanna eliminate all the awkward for everyone, including the camera guy," he jokes, waving towards the camera man who laughs at him.

you and harry chuckle dryly, knowing what's coming next. 

a few crew people leave the room, whether robert told them to or they chose to you're not sure. it's down to just a few more people than you and harry, along with a camera. you look at each other, harry giving you a big smile before he starts undressing.

you follow suit, listening to robert's instructions. "the scene's barely 10 seconds of screen time, so we're only gonna do about 30 seconds of filming. yeah?" you both nod, setting your respective clothes to the side. you're quite a bit relieved at this news, glad that everyone else wants to get this over with as much as you do.

you're both wearing nude colored underwear, harry's briefs and your panties and strapless bra matching your skin tones enough that it could pass for nudity in the dim lighting. you feel a bit exposed, but not to the point of embarrassment, especially having harry next to you in just as little clothing as you.

"alright, now, i don't care if you're both virgins or whores, we all know what sex looks like, so i'm not gonna get too graphic here," robert jokes to lighten to mood, making you and harry laugh to yourselves as you give each other embarrassed looks.

"all i'm gonna do is tell you where to be and you guys just feel it out from there. sound good?" robert asks. "yeah," you both say at the same time. "but remember, you're a cheating bride, so put some oomph into it," robert jokes with you, walking towards the couch. you feel your cheeks heat up as harry tries not to laugh.

robert has you on the couch, laying with your head hanging off the arm as harry steadies himself above you. his arm has to be in a certain position to keep you covered for the camera, and as he repositions himself to their liking, you admire his body from your view. his chest is well built, his shoulders and collarbones creating shadows across his lovely pale skin…

you had to stop. this is just a job. he's an actor, you're an actor, you're acting together, nothing more. just be professional.

just before the camera's start rolling, harry looks down at you and gives you that same reassuring smile that makes your heart skip a beat every time. fuck. stop doing that.

"it's just me. okay? just you and me." his voice is so deep and he's so close to you, and the lighting behind him is making him glow. this moment could be a movie on its own.

"yeah," you breathe out, mesmerized by his words. just you and me. you could do that.

when the camera starts rolling, harry's hips start grinding into you slowly, his lips immediately connecting with yours. you involuntarily melt into him, your hands reaching for his shoulders as his leg starts rubbing against your panties. you let out a moan against harry's lips, and your grip on him gets tighter.

his hips become more and more rough with you, using your thigh to rub against rather than your panties themselves. it doesn't matter. you're still insanely turned on. and not just as your cheating character, but in real life, as yourself. 

as you throw your head back in pleasure, harry takes advantage and digs his head into your neck. he's softly biting at your skin as he brings a hand to one side of your face, keeping his other arm stable for the camera.

he brings you back in for a kiss, and your hands are back in his messy brunette locks. this time he moans, and his rocking hips begin to pick up speed, grinding with more force into you.

your face twists in pleasure, partially for the camera but mostly for harry. you can't believe how natural this feels for you. it's like it really is just the two of you, no camera, no pressure, just pleasure.

as robert cuts the scene, there's a tone to his voice that was different compared to his normally distracted, stressed voice. harry slowly backs up from you, an indistinguishable look on his face as he gives you space to sit up.

you sit up, and quickly walk over to grab your dress. you don't feel uncomfortable, you're just afraid that you got wet enough to soak through your panties and really don't want anyone to notice.

as you slip the dress over your head, you notice harry putting on his pants. you can't tell if you just saw him from a weird angle or if you looked too quick and were mistaken, but you could've sworn he had an erection he was stuffing in his trousers.

well, even if he did, that's normal, right? you're both young people practically dry humping each other and pretending to enjoy it, of course your bodies are going to think it's real and end up actually enjoying it…right?

that's what you tell yourself as you try your best to seem normal, fixing your hair and steadying your breathing as robert makes his way over to you.

"that was, uh…that was great. i don't think we'll have any problem keeping potter, yeah?"

with a heavy hand on your shoulder and a knowing smile, robert calls it a day for the rest of the crew still on set and says his goodbyes.

you're a bit confused by his statement, but try not to think about it too much. you turn to look at harry, but he's already gone.

you're a bit surprised. you thought for sure harry would want to maybe chat a bit after all that, but you tried not to be disappointed as you turned around and headed towards the wardrobe department to retrieve your real clothes.

after getting dressed and setting wardrobe's outfit back in their closet, you make your way out towards the hallways. your mind is still racing, but you're trying not to think too much about what just happened so you don't lose your mind.

on your way to your dressing room, you kept feeling like someone was watching you. the feeling made you walk a bit faster as you tried to remember which hallway was yours.

once finding the door, you quickly let yourself in until a hand stops the door. as you peak through the crack, you see a tie hanging over a messily buttoned-up shirt, and instantly recognized it was harry.

you open the door a bit more excited than you expected yourself to, and are completely in awe of the man in front of you. messy hair, his glasses back on, still wearing the wardrobe outfit without the suit jacket.

"harry," you greet him, smiling like an idiot. he smiles back. "[y/n], hey, um…" he takes a breath, seeming a bit nervous. "sorry i just dashed, i hate those contacts and had to put these back on," he jiggles the frames of his glasses from the the side, making you giggle. "well, i guess i can forgive you. only because i'm pro-glasses," you say with a smirk.

harry seems so nervous, he's constantly shifting his weight and his smile isn't reaching his eyes.

"well, um, i just wanted to say, y'know, thank you for trusting me today…i know it wasn't easy but you did really, really well," his smile is so sweet, and his eyes are incredibly kind. you swear he's trying to get you to swoon.

"thank you, harry, but you made it incredibly easy to trust you…" you say with a small smile. "and it went a lot better than i was expecting." you say with a laugh.

harry cracks a smile. "yeah, same here. i actually wouldn't have minded it at all minus the cameras and audience." harry tries to joke with you, but his nerves are still overpowering his voice. is he joking, or does he feel the same way you felt shooting that scene?

smirking, you lean on the doorway of your dressing room. "i don't know, part of me thinks the audience part is kinda hot…mostly terrifying and vomit-inducing, but…" you joke back with him. he tries to laugh with you but he looks a little shocked by your statement.

"but, i agree. i didn't mind it at all." you say with a tone of seduction. you try to analyze harry to understand how he's feeling, what he's thinking, and why he's so nervous to be talking to you after everything you just did. yeah, maybe you shouldn't be playfully flirting with a coworker, but he started it…

there's a few moments of silence between you exchanging nervous glances with each other. you somewhat enjoy watching harry squirm like this under your gaze, after being so calm and collected on set it's pretty funny to see him fall apart with just you and him.

"uh, look…" harry finally breaks the silence, looking at the ground before making resistant eye contact. "[y/n], i know i said i was a big fan, um…" he's sweating, and he can't stop shifting his weight.

"but, i was just wondering, since, y'know, now we work together for a bit, maybe, um…"

god. he's so cute. is he really nervous to ask you to hang out after having practically having sex on camera? you can't take it anymore. you don't care if you're working together, you need him.

you grab harry and pull him into your dressing room, closing the door and locking it before turning to him and practically forcing him into a kiss.

harry's a bit stunned, quite a bit, but he quickly begins kissing back. the performance kiss was nothing compared to this. he's somehow an even better kisser when it's just the two of you. 

this time, you're pushing harry into the wall next to the door. you smile up at him between making out. "this feels familiar." you say with a smirk. harry nervously lets out a laugh before immediately pulling you back in for the kiss.

the tension that's been built between you guys for the last 3 hours is finally being released, your hands exploring as you slowly take off the other's clothes. unlike the acting you were just doing, you're both gentle with each other and take your time to carefully take the other's clothes off. you're admiring harry's body as his shirt comes off, throwing it to the side. you're mesmerized by his neck and shoulders.

harry takes a moment to admire you, his hand on your cheek as he moves a strand of hair out of your face. your heart couldn't have been beating louder. something about these small, intimate moments with him between the heavy kissing and touching actually makes you more nervous. it was one thing to just be physically attracted to him, but the soft kiss he gave you during the break between filming and now this gentle moment between making out had your mind racing with questions but wanting nothing more than to just keep going.

"harry…" you sigh, examining his face while he looks down at you. "[y/n]...this is like a dream come true…" he whispers softly. the genuine look in his eye has your stomach twisting knots. "i never thought an on-screen kiss could feel like that…" you respond just as quietly.

his smile's real this time, no nerves, no looking away, just admiring you with the most loving smile. "don't tell robert, but, um, i wasn't acting out there. that was harry kissing [y/n]," harry tells you with a chuckle. you feel yourself smiling like an idiot and suppress your laugh. "yeah, i could tell," you say with a smirk.

harry pulls you in to kiss again, and your hands go to his chest. standing on your toes, you push your body further into his, moaning into harry's mouth as his hands find their way to your waist and hold onto you firmly.

"fuck," he practically whimpers, his hands sliding down your hips and eventually to your ass. he squeezes it roughly and causes you to gasp. "i want you." he states simply, staring you in the eyes again. "i don't care if we get in trouble, i'll take the fall. i just, fuck, i need you [y/n], please…" harry breathlessly begs you, his hands making the way under your shirt and up your back.

"we're just working on our chemistry," you respond, helping him pull off your shirt. he groans at your mutual eagerness and his lips attach to your neck and chest, leaving plenty of bite marks as you tangle your hands in harry's fringe again.

letting moans slip out of your mouth without a second thought, your body is responding to harry like it never has with anyone before. everything you've done with someone before him has felt so mild and mechanical, but harry was so naturally passionate with you. you're not sure if it's because he's always been attracted to you or if you just really, really find yourself attracted to him…

eventually harry's lips find your own again, and his hands begin to explore. he runs his fingers over your bra straps as he traces your back, sending shivers all over your skin. smiling into the kiss, he's loving the effect he has on you. harry slowly unclasped your bra and you let it fall to the floor, his hands already replacing it as he massages your tits.

your hands make their way down to his pants, pulling at the waistband only slightly before harry immediately unbuttons them for you, helping you push them before he separates the kiss and kicks off his pants entirely. you steal a glance down and see his erection. "i've had this since that first kiss, need you so bad" harry's voice rumbles.

you take your pants off as well, with harry's assistance, and he pulls at the waistband of your panties. "fuck, everything about you is so beautiful," harry admits before attaching his lips to yours sloppily. the kissing becomes needy, messy, and secondary to you groping each other roughly.

harry spins you around so you're now against the wall as he begins kissing down your body. the cold wall makes your skin shiver again, the visual of harry slowly getting to his knees in front of you making your mind spin.

he looks up at you for just a second above his glasses and your heart can barely take it, how can someone be so adorable yet so incredibly sexy and seductive at the same time?

eventually harry's mouth finds its way to your panties, softly kissing your pussy through them as you squirm under his touch. quiet whimpering and frustrated hip thrusts let harry know you need more, and he slowly pulls the fabric to the side.

you're in a complete state of ecstasy watching harry eat you out from above. his eyes are softly closed as he gets lost in licking and sucking on your clit. his hands go to your legs as he lifts one of your thighs over his shoulder, getting a better angle.

you're full on moaning now, not afraid to let harry know just how good he's making you feel. you can't remember a time where someone was this eager to eat your pussy, solely giving you pleasure. you can feel yourself getting wetter against harry's lips and blush at just how desperately your body's craving him.

"harry, fuck," you whimper, your hands returning to his hair as you begin to slowly grind down onto his face. harry is completely accepting of this, moaning as you stuff his face further into you. his moans send shockwaves through your body, gasping as you feel the tension building in your body.

harry looks up at you, his eyes full of lust and barely open as he continues to make out with your pussy. you can hardly stand the erotic sight before you as he watches your body react so well to him.

"fuck, harry, keep looking at me like that and i'm gonna cum," you teasingly scold him. you can see the smile in his eyes as he backs away, his chin and lips soaking wet. your body goes cold, missing his touch, and your climax fades away.

he quickly wipes his face with his hand before standing up and going back in to kiss you. you moan as the taste and smell of you is all over him. his hands go to your weakening legs and he lifts you up without breaking a sweat. you gasp and look down, seeing he already took off his boxers as he holds you against the wall. you look back in his eyes and they're so much darker than you remember, the bright green now a haunting emerald as he searches yours.

"i need you," he growls, the complete opposite of his usually gentle nature. you can't hold back your moan, something about his desperation makes you crave him so badly. you've never felt so wanted or loved by a partner.

"need you," is all you can say before you kiss him again, tongues instantly entangled. he takes this chance to use one hand to stroke himself, your legs wrapped around his body as he continues to hold you against the wall. 

as harry's slowly pushing into you, your body envelopes him and embraces the pleasure. he's slowly thrusting up into you, his eyes completely fixated on your face as you fall into bliss. you can't get the words out, but harry feels so perfect inside of you. it's everything you've been wanting since he gave you that loving kiss on set.

harry's pace stays slow and torturous until he begins groaning and thrusting more desperately. "holy fuck, [y/n], you feel so fucking good," harry's head falls into your chest, his heavy breaths hitting your skin. the only sound you can make are your pathetic whimpers, your head thrown back against the wall.

harry starts sweating as he holds you against the wall, his legs getting weaker along with his arms. despite that, his thrusts become quicker and more hungry as his hand finds its way to your pussy. your whimpers turn into moans as harry brings you closer to your orgasm. his head lifts to look at you as you reconnect your lips, forcing your tongue in his mouth.

you can feel that knot in your stomach tightening, your hands finding harry's shoulders for something to hold onto. his exasperated breaths and gasps against your lips only turn you on even more. even at his weakest moment he's doing everything possible to make sure your pleasure and comfort comes first. 

"harry, harry, i'm gonna cum," you say between kissing, your arms wrapping around his neck. "please, baby, please," harry groans eagerly, pushing your body further into the wall and thrusting even deeper into you. you can barely wait a moment before letting yourself go, burying your head into harry's neck as you call his name. harry's breathing is completely ragged as you squeeze around his cock, loving the way your body feels against his as you begin shaking.

it's not long into your climax that harry slows down, his hips stuttering before pulling out at the last second and letting his cum drip to the floor, his head falling into your shoulder as well.

you let yourself down from harry's grasp, your legs barely able to keep you up. harry steadies you, chuckling, his reassuring hands on your arms. "okay?" he asks breathlessly. you look up at him, his face is completely drenched and flushed as he stares at you lovingly. "yeah, fine," you say with a smile, using the wall to balance yourself.

you and harry stare at each other for a bit before going in to kiss each other again. it feels so natural, like you've been kissing him your whole life. the butterflies come rushing back. even after having sex with harry you still feel so attracted to him in a nervous, crush-like way.

after getting dressed harry offers his phone to you, asking for your number. you set your contact's name to your character's in the movie, and it leaves harry blushing. he's smiling at you for just a moment before he envelopes you in a hug. warm, comforting, and completely safe, you lean into his touch and don't want to let go.

with some flirtatious remarks and a promise to meet up tomorrow for a date, harry's leaving your dressing room in a barely buttoned up shirt and messy hair. you watch him disappear down the hall before closing your door, hardly able to believe you're already so smitten with the costar you only met earlier that day.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry james potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter au #harry potter fandom #harry potter imagine #harry potter x y/n #harry potter fluff #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter fluff #harry james potter x reader #harry potter smut #harry james potter smut #harry james potter oneshot #harry james potter imagine #harry potter headcanon #hp smut #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic #marauders #golden trio #mine #harry potter oneshot #harry potter oc #hp fandom #harry potter rp #harry potter marauders #hp fanart #harry potter fanart

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 2

Previous Part, Next Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But silver linings exist in the sticky toffee pudding Mrs. Gavey made for you.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Sex, Felix is Felix (a ho), Reader finally eating some good fucking food, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver is Oliver (a creep), alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: BRUH??? HOW DID I GET SO MANY NOTES IN PART 1??? Everyone has been so wonderful and supportive. I received so many questions and comments, which have all been great! Thank you for reading this story, and I hope that this part lives up the first one. Also, this is technically a Christmas fic bc it just fits with the story's timeline. I would like to thank Grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

Christmas Eve - Saltburn 2006

“Oh! Oh – y-yes, yes, yes! FUCK!”

Fucking the girl underneath so hard to the point where she likely saw stars. Meanwhile, Felix was trying to finish as soon as possible.

“So big! God, you’re so fucking big – FUCK!”

He brought her to his room and in his bed because he thought her hair just barely matched yours, and if he didn’t think too much about it – her voice sounded a bit like yours too.

But he made a mistake.

The girl – whatever her name was – sounded nothing like you. Her hair was nowhere near as pretty and shiny as yours, and her nails were fucking long and sharp that they were digging for his blood. Her makeup too – fucking hell, it was like she trying out for the opera with how much she caked onto herself.

Every time Felix saw you – whether in the library or under a tree – your nails were trimmed short. And from what he remembered, you didn’t plaster yourself in cheap cosmetics.

No, you never needed to. Your style of choice was simpler and more elegant than most girls he knew, including his sister, Venetia. Granted, he loved his sister to bits and pieces, but the girl loved her spray tan in the winter.

But worst of all – she didn’t have your eyes. Her gaze was too mindless and soft, a mix of adoration and unparalleled lust. Your eyes held vivacious rage and

“Felix?” What’s-Her-Face asked. “You okay?”

Fuck, he was getting soft.

Closing his eyes, Felix knew the only way he would get to finish was to think of you. He thought about the last time he saw you. He remembered how hard the wind blew and how cold it was that night. He felt himself harden at the memory of how alive your eyes were right before and after you broke his nose. His back still had the welts from the blows of your notebook. Every time he saw them in the mirror, he would lovingly stroke each bruise because they were the only evidence that you were real.

That you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

Letting his mind run wild, Felix imagined you here instead of this imposter. He’d imagine you on top – no way a woman like you would let anyone be on top, not even him. Fuck, you’d be the most wild thing ever to exist, he’s sure he’d let you do anything to him.

His heart, his soul – whether you cared for him or wished to crush him under your shoe – everything of his would be yours.

He wondered if you were the type to be into using a riding crop.

Regaining his vigor with his eyes still closed, he imagined you riding him until oblivion. Your breasts would fit perfectly in his hands as you would still be bouncing on his cock. Your head would be thrown back, and his eyes would roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your pussy tightening.

Oh God, he was going to blow.

Quickening his pace, the girl that wasn’t you was full-on howling in unbridled pleasure. When she climaxed, he could finally let go and come. Ropes of his cum spilled into the condom as he shouted out your name.

Falling to his side, he hadn’t bothered to check if Lady Not You remained in the sheets. It didn’t matter if she did; Felix was too exhausted to care. Finally feeling like he could rest, he fell into a dream about the day he felt his life truly begin – the day he met you.

First Week of Oxford University Michaelmas Term of 2006

Felix remembered the first time he saw you – it was after the first week since the term began. He and his mates were fucking around in Radcliffe, and the old bag running the desk was having a cow with them. He was bored out of his mind when all of a sudden – he spotted you on the upper level. You wore dark wash blue straight-leg jeans with rolled-up cuffs and white high-top Converse sneakers. It looked like your shirt must have been at least a decade old, given how the black-dyed cotton was faded to dark gray, and the paint looked cracked and chipped. Your thick locks were gathered in a loose but simple braid. Unlike everyone else, your eyes weren’t focused on him – but on the structure and life around him.

He had to know more.

Slipping a tenner to one of his friends to cause a distraction, he used the diversion to make his way to your spot on the second floor. Having a closer view, you were the most vividly gorgeous creature he had ever laid his eyes upon. He was worried that his movement toward you would alert you of his presence, and you would only scurry off – and away from him. But judging by the slight bobbing of your head, you wouldn’t be able to hear him since you were listening to whatever was playing through your earbuds.

All the better for him to keep observing you.

As he inched closer, his eyes caught the tiny wisps of your hair that weren’t contained by your messy braid, creating a lovely frame of your face while also bringing out the shine in your eyes. You had a simple gold chain around your neck with a circular locket hanging. From the side, Felix could faintly distinguish the words “Bon Jovi” in blue cracked paint and “1989” underneath a skull wearing red aviators.

He didn’t know who the fuck Bon Jovi was, but clearly, he was someone pretty fucking important to you.

But what captured Felix’s interest was how engrossed you were with the scene unfolding underneath you. Your eyes very rarely broke away from the view – only to quickly glance at the hardcover sketchbook you balanced on the white-painted railing. Whenever you glanced down at your sketch, Felix could see how long and thick your eyelashes were. Each time you blinked, it was like his mind broke down the movement of your eyelids frame by frame as if he were editing a Garry Marshall film. He wished he could be your cheek at that moment. If only to feel the gentle flutter of your lashes’ touch. Deep in your concentration, your lips were slightly pursed in a way that brought out their luscious fullness.

He couldn’t help but imagine how they would look around his cock. If he came inside your mouth, he was sure that some of his spunk would leak past your lips before you tried your best to swallow it down.

He was so lost in the fantasy of you and him that he hadn’t realized you had been calling out to him. Breaking out of his reverie, he looked down to see you right before him. And you looked downright pissed at him.

“Hey! HEY!” you exclaimed while waving your hand to his face to catch his attention.

You were American. How adorable.

“If you could stop staring at me like a fucking serial killer, I think your ‘mates’ are trying to get your attention.”

You pointed your finger at his group of friends still on the first floor. It seemed that they successfully drove away the grounds' warden. The old bat was now fixated on putting away all the returned or misplaced books on the shelves.

Must have been Farleigh’s idea.

Anyway, back to you.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Hey, can I get your –” but you were gone by the time he turned back to you.

Instead, he found himself alone on the second floor. He quickly glanced around to see if you had just moved to a different area. But you were gone. Racing the stairwell, hoping to catch up to you, he found that you had already walked too far for him to call you out without seeming completely desperate.

Except that he was.

He watched you walk away – shoulders back, posture straight, and head held high – and thought at how utterly unfair it was to him that you walked away from him so beautifully without giving him your number, or at least your name.

Felix woke up in a dark room; he was confused as to why the maids hadn’t drawn curtains – until he realized that Mum had likely sent them for their holiday after the party was finished.

It's too bad that he wasn’t there to see everyone out like a good son. But he wouldn’t beat himself over about it too much – chances were that his parents were also hungover off their asses too. He didn’t even want to imagine V’s state right now.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Felix dug into his closet to find whatever someone wore the morning after fucking a completely faceless stranger to scratch an itch meant for someone else. In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a little note on his nightstand. Swiftly plucking it with two fingers, he could barely make out the words written in swirly cursive.

My name’s Cassie. Just thought you should know for next time. Call me: XXXX-XXXXXXX 💋

Felix scoffed before tossing the dingy paper to the floor – destined to be forgotten before the next hour came – before locking himself in the bathroom to take a piss and wash off the smell of booze and cigs off his skin.

By the time he was finished, it was probably close to noon. He would have made his way down to the kitchens to fix something up – but he was immediately met with Farleigh as soon as he stepped out of the doorway. Bastard startled him up so bad that he practically jumped a foot off the ground.

“Fucking – really, Farleigh?” he asked. “Practically gave me a heart attack first thing in the morning.”

“It’s almost one so that ship has sailed.” He quipped back. “Aunt Elspeth and Uncle James were quite distraught when their golden son wasn’t seen by any of the guests when the party ended. It wasn't good when the Carltons’ daughter was gone for almost an hour. But at least she returned to her loving parents’ arms by the time it was to go home.”

Farleigh shot his cousin a curious look.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? I’m pretty sure her name was Cassandra.”

Felix just shrugged.

“Don’t know about any Cassandras. Fucked a Cassie last night, though.”

Farleigh snorted a laugh as they went to the kitchens to see if any food was prepared.

“Merry Christmas, indeed.”

A few minutes of companionable silence passed before Felix asked his cousin something important.

“Hey, do you think she’s thinking about me?”

“Cassie or Cassandra? Because the answer’s probably yes anyway.”

“No, not them. Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

Farleigh immediately stopped. He genuinely wondered how Felix managed to get into Oxford sometimes. Sure, he was a legacy kid, but the line had to be drawn somewhere.

“You really think,” he slowly began, “that the girl who dragged you out of the library in front of everyone, broke your nose, beat you bruised with only her flimsy-ass notebook – because you ruined her painting – would be thinking about you?”

Judging by the look in his cousin’s eyes, yes. Sighing at the incredulity of it all, Farleigh could only shake his head before finding something to eat and drink away the migraine he could feel was coming.

Watching his cousin walk away from him, Felix knew he thought he was fighting a losing battle. But he wasn’t too worried. Everything would change during the upcoming term. Oxford was its own world – broken away from everything else. All that mattered to anyone in Oxford was this world's history, present, and future. And now – as it was made clear now to Felix – you were also part of that world. He would get to find you again and make sure to bring you to the point where you would look for him the way he would look for you.

Still, a selfish part of Felix hoped that you were even just the slightest bit miserable being away from him as he was being away from you.

Manchester, December 2006

You were having the time of your life.

Michael invited you to his home in Manchester for Christmas to spend the holidays with his family. You refused, at first, the idea of being a burden to your best friend during a time when it should be spent with family. Michael liked to put up a big front, but you knew that he was just as – if not more – excited to spend Christmas with his folks than you were before the “incident.”

But he insisted, and you could not have been more grateful for the invitation. But you wish you were a tad bit more graceful with your reaction when he first brought it up.

Oxford Dining Hall December 2006

You were angrily shoveling pasta into your mouth at the time. Sadly, the appallingly bland marinara sauce paired with the overcooked spaghetti and dry meatballs was the university's most flavorful dish.

“Come home with me.” He told you one evening during dinner time at the dining hall.

Caught off guard, you half-choked on the mountain of overcooked noodles in your mouth. Immediately, you reached for your glass of water to wash it down and to prevent a truly horrifically dull death.

“What?” you croaked out.

“Come with me to my house for Christmas.” He clarified, utterly unfazed by your near death. “Come on, you’ve been complaining to me all week about not being able to fly back for the holidays. And no one should have to spend Christmas eating whatever slop they’ll end up serving.”

“Michael,” you began, “I am not going to impose on your family like that. And you seemed to have forgotten one key detail: I can’t leave until I re-do the painting.”

“So, come over after you finish,” he reasoned, “I know you remember what to do, and that already cuts the time you originally spent on it in half. You won’t need a whole month to do it again, so come over when you finish. Plus, you don’t have your other classes to worry about.”

You knew that he was right – he was right about a lot of things – but the offer still made you uncomfortable. Scholarship student or not, you were no one’s charity case. If there was one thing you hated more than being underestimated, it was being pitied by people who didn’t know you. That wasn’t the case with Michael, but the feeling made you feel small.

You hated feeling small.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I would be imposing on your family. Your mom’s a nurse, right? She’s probably been looking forward to your homecoming for ages now. Informing her that she should be expecting a complete stranger, who would be staying for two weeks, would be a huge burden on her. She shouldn’t have that kind of stress burdening her during the holidays.”

He rolled his eyes at your concern.

“Don’t be a drama queen. I already have one in my life, and I’m genetically attached to her. And you’re hardly a stranger. Mum’s always asking when you would be visiting anyway. She’s worried if you’re eating enough or getting enough sleep. She’s a bit looney like that.”

You shot your friend a glare. He was trying way too hard to keep a cool, nonchalant façade. Michael Gavey was a total sucker for his family but in the sweetest way. During the long study sessions that stretched into the night, Michael’s defenses were lowered, and you could get more information about his life and home.  

His mom was a Manchester Royal Infirmary nurse practitioner, while his dad was an accountant at Pearl Lemon. They met at a coffee shop. He was working as a barista to pay off his student loans, and she was a nurse just starting her residency. He wowed her with his terrible jokes, and she charmed him with her infectious smile, and the rest was history. Three years into their marriage, baby Mikey was born, with the addition of his baby sister Lilypad a decade later.

When you remained silent, Michael knew your stubbornness would give him endless headaches. But you were his best friend, the only person he saw worth befriending in the infinite sea of prats and slags that overpopulated their university. You laughed at his shitty jokes, and he snorted at yours. You would try to trip him up with out-of-pocket sums; he’d laugh when he answered them before your calculator. You had his back when some rugby bloke pushed him around, and he had yours when some fake tanned bitch called you a tramp.

“Look, I can’t promise it’ll be anything like your home. I know you miss your mum’s cooking and your dad’s drunk stories. But my parents already made me promise that I would get you to visit because it’s Christmas and no one should be alone and you’re going to die without me here and blah blah blah. Just say you’ll come? Lil’ will murder me if you don’t come. She’s been dying to hear all about the Great Apple and Broadway.”

“…It’s actually called the Big Apple.”

Your comment brought a loud and rather unattractive snort to leave his mouth. And the chuckle that came after brought a small and tentative smile on you.

“Look, are you coming or not?”

You had to admit, the invitation sounded welcoming. You were dying to put faces on the people that made Michael Gavey, well, Michael Gavey. He rarely talked about his family, but his tone was warm and soft when he did. It was such a sweet contrast to the snarky little shit you were used to, and so temptation won in the end.

“…Fine.” You agreed after dragging out the tension. “But I am bringing presents for all your family members, and you have to help me. And any funds that were spent on me are going to be paid back before summer. Got it?”

A true, genuine smile crept across Michael’s face.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“…Will I be seeing any baby pictures of you?”

“Don’t push it.”

You weren’t sure what exactly to expect from Michael’s family – maybe they were wonderful, or maybe the idea of an American that hailed from a city with some of the highest crime rates in the US gave them hives – but you were sure that you wouldn’t be alone if Michael were with you. Safe to say, your expectations were set way too low.

His dad's arms immediately enveloped Michael after you two exited at your stop and the station. You had always assumed most British father figures to be a bit cold and distant, but it seemed that stereotype didn’t apply to his dad. You went in for a handshake but were also caught in a warm hug. You introduced yourself while expressing your gratitude to him and his wife’s generosity.

“Oh no, please,” he insisted, “please call me Greg. Mr. Gavey was my father’s name, and I don’t think I’ve grown that many wrinkles yet.”

When you arrived at his home, it was a medium-sized red brick building in the suburbs. After entering the door and Greg announcing your arrival, quick footsteps ran down the stairs, and a young girl with golden honey curls in pajamas and a pink tutu ran to Michael.

“MIKEY!” she exclaimed. “YOU’RE HOME! Did you miss me? Why did it take you so long? You said your tests were done by the third. It’s the fifteenth today!”

“Lily, Lily,” Michael breathily laughed, “calm down. Of course, I missed you. But I had to wait for my friend because she’s hopeless with directions.”

“That is not true!” you blurted. “It’s not my fault I come from a grid system!”

“Anyway, this is my very good friend, Y/N L/N. Y/N L/N, this is my little sister, Lily.”

Lily turned to you with a big smile and curtsied like a perfect ballerina.

“Hello! My name is Lily! I’m eight, but I’ll be nine in April!”

You almost squealed at how adorable the sight was. You crouched down and mirrored her smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Lily! I’m Y/N, and I’m turning nineteen this coming b/m! Your brother here told me so much about you.”

“He did?” she asked with wide eyes.

“He did! He told you how smart you are in math and that you’re an amazing ballerina.”

Lily shyly looked down as a massively cute blush bloomed on her cheeks.

“I wanna be good at sums like Mikey. That way, I can help Daddy with his work like Mikey did when he was my age.”

“Ok!” interjected ‘Mikey,’ cheeks equally flushed at the slipped detail from his baby sister. “Time to find Mum. She in the kitchen?”

“Yep! She’s making roast chicken and mash with peas!” She turned to you. “Is Y/N allergic to anything?”

“Nope!” you replied, “Only dust, but I’m pretty sure that won’t be in the dishes.”

Meeting Michael’s mom – who was absolutely gorgeous, by the way – was another huge highlight of the break so far. Hearing you three entering the kitchen, she immediately turned off the stove and dashed over to hug you and her son.

“Oh, Y/N!” she warmly greeted you. “I’m so happy that you were able to come. Michael has told me so much about you. Have you adjusted well in Oxford? The time difference isn’t putting too much strain on you, is it? You both look so skinny – are they feeding you at all at that school?”

“Careful, Mum. You might scare her off.”

You shot him a mocking glare before answering his mother.

“Don’t be mean! And I think I’ve adjusted well enough to the university. Jet lag wasn’t too much of an issue because my parents made sure I moved into my dorm early and adjusted to the time zone changes before classes started. The food they serve at the dining halls doesn’t compare to homecooked meals, so I haven’t had much of an appetite. But after walking into the kitchen, I think I’ll be able to regain it once I have your cooking!”

“Oh, you are so sweet! I’ll let you get settled. Greg and I cleaned up the guest room for you. It’s next to Lilypad’s room. She’s excited to hear any stories you have about New York. It’s just on the second floor at the end of the hall.”

Walking back to the entrance to grab your bags, you were just in earshot of Michael and his mom’s conversation.

“Michael! Why didn’t you tell me she was so beautiful! I thought she was a model from Vogue when she first walked in! Are you sure nothing’s going on between you two? Should I expect any grandchildren in the near future?”

“Mum!” he loudly groaned as you softly chortled.

Christmas with the Gaveys was so much fun. You played a dozen board games. Michael was a beast in Poker and Uno while you cleared the board with Scrabble and Black Jacks. Mrs. Gavey was a fantastic cook – you couldn’t remember the last time you had any meal that had more than salt as a seasoning since coming to England. You tried sticky toffee pudding for the first time – you almost cried at that first bite. Everyone was so warm to each other and showered one another with so much love. Most of the neighbors watched Michael grow up, and many shared his childhood stories. It reminded you a lot of the Christmases at your parents’ apartment back in Queens.

The community and camaraderie- it was like you were back at home with your family. Your mom would pick up a roast duck from Peking Duck Sandwich Stall in Flushing while you and your dad would go to Eileen’s to wait in line to pick up your favorite cheesecake. The building would have a huge potluck on Christmas Eve, and everyone would bring a dish. Your neighbor, Mrs. Wong, would bring out everything necessary to make her famous dumplings. Everything was made from scratch. You and the kids of the building would learn how to wrap the fillings in the wrappers while the adults made the wrappers and fillings. You would play White Elephant with the other kids on Christmas Day, which usually ended in a fistfight.

You still missed home. You missed your parents and cat. You missed making cookies with your parents because Christmas was the only time when both of them had time off from work. While his school was still on break, you and your dad would take advantage of your mom’s employee benefits and watch a bunch of live Broadway shows.

When your parents skyped you, you cried after seeing their faces for the first time in so long. School was so stressful, and you were starting to regret traveling so far when you could have easily gone to a school so much closer to home. You tried your best to reschedule your flight, but round-trip flights were expensive, and they increased exponentially during the holidays.

You cried for an hour after seeing the prices online.

But thanks to Michael, you felt so much less alone than you would have if you had stayed at Oxford for the entire break. You introduced him to your parents during the call, and they loved him. It was such a massive relief that they liked your friend, especially because of how much his friendship meant to you. When he left the room, your parents basically forced you to ensure he would come with you to stay with you when you returned for the summer. They were shocked when you told them he had never had fresh jianbing or a decent slice of pizza. After the call, you were confident they were making a list of every store and stall you and Michael would visit during his visit.

Classic Queens’ family behavior – showing love by forcing food down your throat whether you like it or not.

At the moment, you were at the window in your room and looking at the moon. It was about three in the morning, and the rest of the household was asleep.

Well – everyone except one.

Michael had crept in about half an hour ago, and the two of you were just looking at the stars. You hadn’t expected to see so many – you could only see the lights from planes and aircraft at night back home. There wasn’t any talking, only comforting silence. The scene outside your window with the fresh snow on top of the rooftops and ground. Each house had a slight outline of their Christmas tree lights shining from their lower windows.

Your fingers itched for your pencil and sketchbook to immortalize it.

Ever so softly, Michael broke the silence while looking at you.

“So,” he began, “how would you rate your first English Christmas in the Gavey Household?”

You looked back at him with the biggest smile that Michael had ever seen on you.

“Ten out of ten. Would pay to see lightsaber reenactment again.”

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

Suburban Prescot, Liverpool December 2006

In a well-established suburban home in Prescot, a short boy with crystal blue eyes and inky black hair locked himself in his room. The noise and babble from downstairs gave him a headache. He hated his parents. He hated his sisters. He hated being invisible and being from nowhere.

He had to get out of here.

In his backpack, a photo of a specific heir of a manor was safely tucked in the bottom. The new term was going to be different for him. He would make sure of it.

Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @valeskafics, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindnow, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list by commenting!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #michael gavey x reader #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie

[pastel-peach-writes]

Can you CatVi x Reader where Reader touched VI’s jacket and it got into a mess of paint that the Reader was painting and Vi and Cait came home and saw the painting but saw VI’s jacket. But Vi was shocked and didn’t say anything but was angry.

Comin' right up!

Don't Cry Over Spilled Paint | CaitVi x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: Messy. That was the word to describe you and your relationship with paint. After fair warnings to wash your hands after you paint, you get yourself into some trouble that might bite you in the butt later on.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Cursing, Not Proofread, 3000+ words, No Use of Y/n, Angry Vi, Fluff Towards The End, Caitlyn Giggles (shh)

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

(A/N): UMMM totally didn't see where Anon said Vi doesn't say anything ab being upset. She totally did and IM SO SORRY ANON 😭😭

You weren't sure how it happened. One minute you were painting a beautiful piece that showed Zaun in its light and then the next you were frantically scrubbing paint off of Vi's red jacket.

Maybe this could've been avoided if you just listened to Caitlyn.

"Make sure you wash your hands after you paint," she would always say to you. "You touch everything after you paint and you get paint everywhere."

You should've listened to her, you really should've, but she wasn’t here to warn you. So, technically, this was on her!

"Come on, come on," you muttered as you scrubbed a white rag on the jacket. Luckily, the paint spot was small. The color of the paint a navy blue and it was right next to some forever dirt patches in the jacket so the spot wasn't noticeable.

With the jacket and rag underneath running water, you declared the jacket done. The paint had already dried and there was no going back now. Besides, would Vi really notice that minuscule spot? You didn't think so.

A relieved sigh escaped your mouth as you shut off the tap. Wringing the rag out, you noticed two palm-sized white spots on the jacket. You set the rag down, going to inspect the jacket but before the jacket even touched your hands, your heart dropped to your feet.

The palms of your hands were white from priming your next canvas. The same white on the jacket matched the white on your hands.

Maybe it's just a coincidence.

You leaned your head further into the sink, too terrified to even touch the jacket. Through the white primer on the jacket, some lines and cracks matched the pattern of a human's palms. Okay, if your heart hadn't sunk before, it was now. Oh, and now you were trembling with fear.

You turned the tap on again. The water splashed and sprouted upwards from hitting Vi's jacket. You watched as the soaked jacket continued to take more water but the white spots not diminishing.

You turned the tap to hot.

Still the same reaction. Jacket soaks up water, paint remains untouched.

You should've noticed that the paint on your hands wasn't transferring to the faucet handles; a sign of dried hand paint.

"We're home!" Caitlyn's voice rang throughout the home.

Shit.

You thought you had more time. You thought you could take her jacket to the dry cleaners and get someone to professionally get the paint out yet leave all the dirt and grime so Vi wouldn't notice the difference.

You thought you had time to research how to get primer out of fabric and search up which primer you used to see if it was water-soluble. Was there even such a thing as a water-soluble primer? What's the point of a primer if it disappears with water?? FUCK.

Wooden creaks and deep steps rattled the floor above you. Caitlyn and Vi were settling themselves in the kitchen. This meant you had some time to hide the jacket in your studio before Vi noticed her missing jacket.

Quickly, you grabbed a plastic bag and shoved her jacket inside. You needed to keep the jacket wet. The wetter the jacket, the easier the paint comes out. Well, that was your theory at least. Tying the bag into knots you'll have to cut out later, you shoved the bag into a box of battered art supplies.

Don't ask why you have a large cardboard box filled with dead/empty art supplies. You don't know yourself.

"Muffin!" Vi shouted from the studio's entrance. "You comin' up or what?"

"Yeah!" your voice trembled. "Just trying to wash some paint off my hands."

Hearing the slight tremble in your voice, Vi took it upon herself to travel down into the basement-- oh, sorry, into your art studio -- to see what was the matter.

However, once she reached the halfway point of the staircase, you came running up.

"Whoa," Vi laughed. She placed her hands on your shoulders to prevent the two of you from colliding. "Where's the fire?"

You chuckled, sheepish and breathless. "Oh, uh. I thought you guys needed me and I didn't want you to wait much longer."

"Oh, well, that's cute of you, Muffin, but we're alright." Vi ruffled your hair. "I just wanted to make sure you ate your food before it gets cold."

"Aw, you got me food?" You put your hands on her shoulders and pushed her up the stairs. There was some resistance, naturally, but Vi let you push her up anyway.

"Well, yeah we know you've been--"

"Caitlyn!" you greeted, locking eyes with her. The girl was mid-bite in a pancake, the circle good dangling from her mouth and eyes wide. Vi laughed at her and the girl quickly took the pancake from her mouth with red cheeks.

"H-Hi!" she returned the greeting. She stood up from the counter and cleaned her hands off with a napkin. "Um, we got you food. Your favorite breakfast meal."

"Oh, great!" You removed your hands from Vi's body and made a beeline into the kitchen. The food was already plated for you with your favorite beverage on the side. You ate contently, trying not to let your worry show through facial expressions.

What was your plan now? Do you tell her? Do you let that jacket mildew and mold and hope she forgets about it? No, there's not way she could forget about it. She wears that jacket every damn day.

"Muffin," Vi said, pulling you out of your thoughts. Caitlyn and Vi were sitting at the counter across from you. When did they get there? You had no clue. "Why are your palms white? Like, whiter than Caitlyn white?"

You stifled a laugh while Caitlyn swatted her arm. "I was painting. That's why I was in the studio."

"Yeah, I know," Vi said through laughter. Caitlyn's swat had no effect on her. "But I thought you were washing your hands? Your hands were wet when you were pushing me up the-- wait," Violet deadpanned. "I don't have paint on me, do I?"

Frantic, the woman searched her arms for paint. The woman was wearing nothing but a plain white tank and some random pants. You would totally be distracted by her buff arms if your heart wasn't slowly finding its place in your chest.

Caitlyn hummed, eating a piece of pancake while she searched Vi's body. "No, you look fine which tells me someone forgot to wash their hands after they were done painting again." You received a scolding look from the English lady.

You shrugged with a dry chuckle. "Don't worry. I didn't get paint on anything."

Safe to say, your girlfriends did not believe you. Immediately springing up from their chairs, they raced to your studio despite your pleas.

They couldn't find any new marks of paint on the walls or support pillars. In fact, when they were done searching, they stumbled upon your Zaun painting and praised you for how well you captured the city.

"Wow, Muffin, you did really good with this," Vi complimented. Her fingers reached out towards the canvas, but you quickly slapped her hand away.

"Don't touch! It's still wet."

Vi snickered but obeyed. She stepped back but continued to admire your recent artwork.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, wasn't fully convinced you didn't touch anything with your painted hands. She strode towards the sink to see if there were any new paint marks. Instead of finding new paint, she found that the sink was still shiny from recent usage.

She hummed to herself. Vi said your hands were wet, though no paint transferred to her arms. So, your hands weren't wet with paint but with water. Caitlyn's gaze flickered over to your damp washcloth. Recently wrung up with a new paint mark.

The mark was a faded blue. The blue matched the blues you used in your painting, but the mark wasn't big enough for Caitlyn to assume you were cleaning up your lines with a towel.

You spilled paint on something, but on what?

To the left of her, Caitlyn spotted the box of art supplies. A hoarder, her partner was, keeping empty paint tubes, dead brushes, and other things you use for your craft.

What Caitlyn spotted was a new lump in the box. Instead of your dead supplies lying relatively flat, there was something disturbing the colorful sea, something hiding.

"Darling," Caitlyn called out for you with a finger on her chin and her other arm supporting the elbow. "Did you run out of a lot of paint while making that piece? Your graveyard of art supplies seemed to have grown."

Both yours and Vi's gaze snapped from the painting and to Caitlyn.

The three of you sat in silence, yet the tension in the air rose.

Your gaze flickered from the box, to Vi, to the box, to Caitlyn, and then back to the box.

Before anyone could say anything, you dashed. You didn't get far, matter of fact, you got nowhere before Vi wrapped her arms around your middle to hold you back.

Caitlyn went digging through the box, detirmined. Nothing could get past her. Not even her partner who loves to paint but is too messy for their own good.

"Aha!" Caitlyn triumphed as she held up the tied plastic bag. She poked the bag, a smile growing on her face. "Interesting. It's still wet and slimy inside. A recent hiding, must I say."

"Cait, don't!" you plead, squirming and wiggling under Vi's grip. The pinkette tightened her grasp around you.

"You're not going anywhere," her voice rasped through gritted teeth. You were being a challenge with all your squirms, but Vi had no problem throwing you over her shoulder if you became too much. Besides, she was having too much fun watching you beg and plead for Caitlyn not to open the bag.

"I'm sorry, but I have to." Caitlyn's long and slender fingers toyed with the knot. She used her fingernails to pull up a piece of the thin plastic before slipping her finger inside to loosen the knot completely.

"Caitlyn, I'm telling you, do not open that bag."

Opened, she did.

The girl barely took a gander before she gasped at the bag's containment. "You're right," she said through a trembling and quiet voice. "I do not need to open this bag. This bag must remain closed."

"What?" Vi exclaimed, letting go of you. "Oh, come on! Show me what's in the bag! It isn't fair you two know what it is and I don't."

Vi marched over to Caitlyn, but the blue-haired girl held the bag over her head. "No, Violet, I mean it. We need to respect our partner's boundaries and not open this bag."

You were frozen in fear. Vi was too close to the bag for your own good. You were thankful for Caitlyn's understanding of keeping the bag away from Vi, but that didn't mean you wont be hearing a lesson in your near future.

"Bull. Shit." Vi then brought her fingers to Caitlyn's armpit and tickled her. The bluenette immediately caved with giggles. Her crinkled eyes and cute smile would usually be an adorable sight to see, but right now, the sight made you seethe with anger.

Really, Cait? Couldn't hold on for just a bit longer?

Caitlyn brought her arm down, folding it like a chicken wing to stop Vi from tickling her. "Stop!" she giggled.

Vi grinned, snatching the back from her hand. "Anything for you, princess." The pinkette opened the bag and stared at its contents.

Caitlyn slid her way over to you, a small frown on her face as she played with her hands. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep it away from her for long," she whispered.

You sighed, watching Vi's face crinkle and express many, yet unreadable, emotions. "It's fine," you whispered back. "Just promise you'll attend my funeral."

Finally, after what seemed like 30 agonizing minutes, Vi spoke. "Is this my jacket?"

You gulped. "What do you want it to be?"

Vi called you by your name, her gaze lasering on you. Her eyes were darkened with anger, her lips upturned into a scowl. "Don't play cute with me," she called you by your name again. "Is this my jacket?"

Your heart was back in your chest again, but this time, it felt like it wanted to escape. A deep lump lodged and settled itself in your throat, making it difficult to say the words your brain was telling you to say.

Your chalky palms now wet from sweat and your body buzzing with anxiety. You couldn't say anything. You wanted to, but you couldn't.

You only watched the ticking time bomb on Vi's face as her expression went from upset to vexed. Her face was red with anger, the hands gripping the bag turned into fists, and her chest rose and fell with each staggered breath.

Vi took her jacket out of the bag. She scoffed at its drenched state and brought it over to the sick. She wrung it out like you did once before with a rag. Her hands were covering where the spots were.

Much like yourself, Caitlyn couldn't say a word. The two of you watched her like deers stuck in headlights. What could one say to de-escalate the situation? Caitlyn felt that if she tried to calm Vi down, she would be brushed off and told not to speak.

Vi studied the jacket from each angle. She studied the front, she studied the back. She studied the inside and then studied the pockets. It wasn't until she draped the jacket over a forearm she saw the two obnoxious spots of primer.

"I can't believe this," Vi said quietly, only a true sign of her deep anger. "Time and time again, we tell you to wash your hands and not touch anything. It was cute the first couple of times, annoying the next, and now I'm pissed off."

This had to be worse than any lecture Caitlyn would've given you.

"This is my jacket. My favorite jacket." Vi's back was turned to you, but now she's facing you dead on. Honest, you preferred her back to you. Then you wouldn't have to see the hurt in her eyes and she wouldn't have to see the sadness in yours.

A voice in Vi's head told her to stop talking but the anger she was feeling mimicked the anger she felt when Vander died. She had no control over what she was going to say, she could feel it. She wanted to stop talking to prevent further damage, but her emotions took her whole.

"I stole this from some rando after I beat his ass. I've had this for around 2 years now and until you came along, it was unscathed."

"Vi..." Caitlyn warned.,

"Sure, there were some dirt and sweat stains here and there, but that's what gave this jacket character. It's what made this jacket more like me because even though it was dirty, grimy, and stinky, it preserved through all the shit it went through," Vi continued.

You weren't sure if you were crying. Your eyes stung like you were, but the rest of your body shut down. Vi's words were like piercing sharp arrows flying through the wind and your body was the target. You've mastered the heart of tuning out lengthy and emotional lectures thanks to your parents, but all that skill was no match for Vi's words.

"All it took. All it took was your careless thinking and some fucking paint to ruin the one thing that felt like me. Thanks for that." Vi threw the jacket into the sink and went upstairs.

She didn't bother to look you or Caitlyn in the eye.

-

It's been a few days and you and Vi haven't talked. The first few days you didn't talk because the wounds were still fresh but as the silence grew and the wounds began to heal, the problem was finding the right words to say.

You've tried to apologize for the jacket multiple times, but she wouldn't hear it. Caitlyn even took the jacket to the cleaners to get the stains out, but Vi didn't want to see it.

Every time Vi got a glimpse of you or the jacket hanging in the closet, she knew she had to apologize to you. She wanted to apologize to you, but she didn't know how. Caitlyn tried to help countless of times, but no avail.

Sleeping arrangements were worse.

Vi slept on the couch the first few nights and then after some coaxing by Caitlyn, Vi slept on the furtherest side of the bed. Typically she liked to be in the middle or you would be in the middle, but as of late, she slept on the left and you slept on the right.

Poor Caitlyn had to sleep in the middle. She hated the middle. She didn't like how warm the two of you were in the night, making her burn up. She didn't like how if she wanted to read or work in bed, she couldn't turn the nightstand lamp on. The middle was awful. She wanted her right side back.

The night of the week anniversary of the argument, you and Vi stumbled into the bedroom to find Caitlyn sitting on the edge of the bed and glaring at the two of you.

"I am not sleeping in the middle any longer," she declared. "You two are too warm, I don't have enough arm or leg room, and I can't read which means I'm restless every time I sleep!" Caitlyn stood from the bed, arms crossed over her body. "And to be fair, I've grown tired of your childish argument. You two are grown adults. Talk your shit out so we can sleep in our rightful places."

You and Vi glanced at each other.

You already said your apology. What else could you say? It wasn't like you could offer her a meal, it was too late to eat and you definitely weren't saying another apology,

Vi sighed, looking away first. She shrugged, going to the left side of the bed. Caitlyn stopped her by pushing a hand to her chest. "Nuh-uh," Caitlyn eyed her. She pointed towards your direction with her brows furrowed. Vi groaned and walked back over to you.

"Oh, well that's one way to make a person feel warm and fuzzy inside," you scoffed. Vi rolled her eyes.

"Oh, please, you mean like ruining someone's jacket?"

"It wasn't on purpose!" you exclaimed. "You know it wasn't on purpose. I understand your being upset for my clumsiness and lack of awareness when it comes to wet paint, but you can't still be mad at me for something I got fixed."'

"You didn't even fix it," Vi rolled her eyes again. "One of Caitlyn's fancy buddies did."

"And who do you think paid for that?" you scoffed at her. "It might've been a buddy of hers but I still had to pay full price for a Piltover dry cleaning service. I don't believe in waving money and prices over people's faces, but since you want to go there, that cost me two months' worth of payments and as a starving artist, that's a lot of money to recover."

Vi only shrugged as her mouth converted into some sort of frown. She didn't know you had to pay 1,200 dollars to get her jacket fixed. She could've been more grateful and showed you some gratitude for getting her jacket cleaned, but you were the one who ruined it anyway. It was your job to get the jacket cleaned.

Caitlyn sighed. "Vi, stop being stubborn and say 'thank you' and an apology."

"Why should I have to say an apology?" Vi knew why, though she didn't want to admit it aloud.

"Why?" Caitlyn scoffed. "Vi, I knew you were thick-headed but I never thought it to be this extreme." Shaking her head, Caitlyn climbed into bed. "Fine then. Don't apologize and don't patch things up. I'm tired of being the referee."

Something stirred inside Vi. It wasn't anger or contentment, but instead a sadness. Not only is she unable to patch things up with you, but now she's dragged Caitlyn into this mess. Caitlyn was the peacemaker because Vi, herself, was unable to make peace with anything.

Caitlyn didn't deserve this. You didn't either.

If Vi didn't nip this in the bud, she was going to lose the both of you. She was going to lose the only people who saw her for her and loved her regardless of her faults.

"I'm sorry," the words stumbled out of Vi like a baby bird trying to fly for the first time, "to the both of you."

Caitlyn peered up at her with a book in her hand. You, who hasn't said or done anything since the last time you spoke, met her gaze.

"Muffin, I'm sorry for lashing out on you and not being mature enough to handle this situation properly. You trying to hide the bag is on me because I should've created a space where you can come to me about anything. Even if you think it may upset me."

"It's okay--"

"It's not okay. You don't have to forgive me or say some line like, 'Oh, everyone gets angry sometimes'. No. It's not okay and I apologize for my behavior. I'm working on it." Vi put a hesitant hand on your shoulder. When you allowed her to, she smiled and pressed a kiss ot your temple.

"And, Cupcake," Vi addressed Caitlyn. Caitlyn hummed in response. "I'm sorry for roping you into this and not realizing how miserable you were while Muffin and I fought."

"Yeah," you chimed. "I'm sorry about that too. You didn't deserve any of this."

A soft smile rested upon Caitlyn's lips. She motioned the two of you over, willingly wanting to be in the middle so she could hug you both. You and Vi gathered by her side, wrapping an arm around her. "I love you too, lugs," Caitlyn said behind a laugh. "I hope we can all learn from this."

"Yeah," you said behind a grin. "I learned that Caitlyn is severely ticklish and will cave immediately after a few seconds of tickling."

"What?" Caitlyn blushed. "No, that was not the lesson here," she nervously chuckled, her blush already spreading to her ears.

Vi laughed along with you. "Yeah, actually. I accidentally found that out like a month or two ago and only used it the day of the fiasco."

You gasped. "You found out and you didn't tell me?"

"Well, I didn't know how!" Vi laughed.

"Now, hang on a minute," Caitlyn said trying to catch your attention.

"Well, now I feel left out." "Who's to say you can't tickle her now?"

"Hold on!" Caitlyn pleaded but it was too late. Your hands and fingers found the soft skin on her stomach and laughs roared out of her. Vi joined the activity, tickling some of her neck.

Even after a week of drama, the love between the three of you remained. Plus, you guys even got some giggles out of it.

WC: 3,877

#pastel-peach-writes #gender-neutral terms #pastel peach writes #gender neutral terms #lesbian #arcane fanfiction #caitlyn x reader #vi fanfic #vi x reader #vi x caitlyn #caitvi x reader #caitvi x you #caitlyn fanfic #cait x vi #caitvi #caitlyn x vi #violyn #vi #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn kiramman #vi x you #vi arcane

[sunshine-theseus]

Hermanita’s Broken Nose| Laia Aleixandri x Reader

Words: 1.6k Summary: You’re technically ‘off limits’ to any of your sister’s friends, but that doesn’t stop Laia. It also doesn’t stop the ball coming for your nose Warnings: Angst, no proofreading what so ever because i'm with family sorryy Requested by - @deynacastellonaswife

“María will kill us if she finds out Lai.” I try to catch my breath, hands resting against Laia’s chest.

“Mapi lives an ocean away.” A ghost of a kiss is pressed to my lips in reassurance.

“No, she lives 1825 kilometres away. Not even that will stop her wrath if she finds out one of her friends is dating her hermanita.” The dim light of the Manchester City utilities closet was beginning to make my eyes strain as I looked at my secret girlfriend.

“You know the exact distance between Manchester and Barcelona?” a teasing grin spreads across her face as she pushes open the door, looking around to make sure no one will see us.

“Sí. You don’t? Usually, I use it when I’m in need of comfort, my sister isn’t really that far if I need her. But your teasing is taking that away.” A joking jab in her side sends Laia running and screaming back to the pitch.

No one is there to meet us, the other girls still having lunch and relaxing, so we take some time to play around with the ball. Laia begs to practice penalties, so I line up with my goalie gloves tightly on my hands, waiting for her to kick the ball. I dive back and forth as she goes to score, managing to catch or stop the ball often enough for her to want to keep going.

I begin to get tired. My hand rarely meets the ball and I stop putting effort into my dives but she doesn’t notice.

“Lai… I gotta stop bebé. It’s too much.” I’m already sitting on the ground as Laia takes a final kick, not being able to stop in time after my plea for a break.

It’s a beautiful ball. It spins and floats down perfectly, but it doesn’t hit the net. Instead, it comes barrelling down toward me, and slams aggressively into my nose. The pain radiates across my face, and I feel the warm blood start to trickle out of my nose as I groan in pain. I lean forward, trying to find a safe place above my nostrils for me to pinch, and Laia comes rushing toward me.

“Mierda! Lo siento coriño. Necesitas ayuda y poco hielo.” (Fuck! I’m so sorry sweetheart. You need help and some ice) I reach out for her but she’s already sprinting toward the medical room before I can say anything.

~~~~~

“Hermanita! How on earth did you break your nose?” María and Ingrid sit in the Barcelona sun as we facetime, the older of the two questioning me with an accusatory tone.

“Laia. We were practicing penalties, and I sat down for a break, but it was too late… she kicked a beautiful penalty, but I was not in a good spot. Came right for my face.” To finish my statement, I point to the cast over my nose.

My sister tries, yet fails, to conceal her laughter while Ingrid pouts, eyes full of concern.

“Din stakkars kjære! Are you healing okay?” (you poor dear!) my sister’s girlfriend was a ball of sunshine and kindness, you couldn’t not love her, so in return I’d begun to learn some Norwegian so we could both speak each other’s languages. María tried to join me, but decided that 2 languages was enough for her, leaving her confused whenever Ingrid and I decided to test my new skill.

“I am, Laia felt really bad so she’s taking care of me.” It’s a simple lie to explain the random items that are very clearly not mine that are littered around the apartment behind me.

Laia had moved into my apartment mere months ago, not long after we started dating. Her clothes were already filling up my cupboard and small trinkets dawned my kitchen counter tops and tables.

“Good. Where is she? No one hurts my baby sister and gets away with it.” Despite her previous laughing, María’s lips pull tight and she becomes serious, looking around my screen as if she would be able to spot the Spaniard.

“Out getting groceries. She’ll be back soon, you can rip into her then. Shouldn’t you be worrying about your own injury by the way?” María had torn the meniscus in her right knee during training and was out for the rest of the season. A significantly worse injury than a simple broken nose.

“I have Ingrid for that!” She smiles goofily at the Norwegian beside her as Bagheera jumps onto her lap, sniffing his way toward the camera my sister is holding up.

The black cat begins to meow and paw at the screen, and I smile, but quickly let out a squeal of pain and nearly grab my nose. Perhaps a little dramatic, I grant myself a pass.

“Fuck you and your cute ass cat María! God that hurt.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!”

-

We talk for quite some time, that I forget about the impending arrival of the girl who most certainly wasn’t supposed to be my girlfriend.

“We should probably go soon-” right as Ingrid makes the comment, Laia walks through the door.

“Hola bebé! How are you feeling?” after placing the bags on the kitchen bench she makes her way over. She leans down and kisses me softly but I can’t find it in me to kiss her back, too shocked.

“QUE CARAJO?” (WHAT THE FUCK?) Laia freezes beside me at the sound of my sister’s voice booming around the apartment.

“Now might be a good time for us to go.” Ingrid, ever the angel, reaches across her girlfriend and hangs up the call.

Laia and I give each other a look before I stand up. I knock my phone off the couch beside me and begin pacing the length of the apartment. Laia watches with wide eyes, unsure of what to do as I pull at my hair and try not to run my hands over my face. Avoiding the broken bone seems to be hard in times of worry.

Eventually she stands in front of me and grabs me by the shoulders, physically shaking me to snap me out of my panic.

“It’ll be okay. It’s not like she’ll fly over just to tell us off.” In a moment of foolishness, I nod in agreement and fall into Laia’s arms. She presses kisses to my shoulder as I rest my chin on her own shoulder.

-

Like I said, a moment of foolishness. Not 2 days later, María was knocking on my door.

“Sé que estás ahí! Open up!” (I know you’re in there!) I have no choice but to open the one thing separating Laia and I from the rage of my sister.

Laia stands beside me, hand squeezing my own. Both of us were terrified of what the older girl would have to say but knew we had to face the music. I can hear Mrs Goldfinch, the single mum next door, telling, or yelling, at María to stop. It’s hard not to laugh at the shocked and rather embarrassed face of my sister as the door swings open.

“Laia Aleixandri when I get my fucking hands on you!” she comes storming toward us so fast that I barely have time to shove my girlfriend behind me. Her injury doesn’t slow her down at all.

“Mapi! Mapi! We can talk about this!” Laia tries to reason with her but there is a flame in María’s eyes that show no mercy.

“No, I told you all, no messing around with my hermana. I told you there would be consequences if you did, so here we are.”

“María! I am a grown woman, I can decide who I date myself. When I was 15? I would’ve understood, but I’m 24 now. I love you but who I date is up to me. And Laia is it for me.” The fury in my sister’s eyes dissipates quickly.

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to protect you.”

“I know, and I appreciate it so much, but this is for me to decide.” María surges forward and hugs me, barely missing my nose.

Laia stands awkwardly behind me, smiling at the interaction. I reach over to her to pull her into the hug.

“I love you both so much.” Laia leaves a kiss on my head and María squeezes me tighter.

-

María stays for a week before heading back to Barcelona for a check up on her knee. Laia and I spend the day after she leaves, curled up in bed, watch movies. My nose is okay enough to not hurt all the time, almost completely healed, so I rest my head on her chest, kissing wherever I can reach.

Similarly, she presses kisses to me head and draws patterns on my back. Both of us are close to falling asleep when she finally speaks up.

“I’m honestly glad that we got that out of the way. I love you but Mapi terrifies me.” A grin spears across my face.

“You looove me? I love you too bebé.” I can feel the joking roll of her eyes before I look up at her.

Without second thought, I press a deep kiss to her lips. We both turn out head to better accommodate the gesture.

“Fuck my nose!” the movement pushes the healing bone into Laia’s own nose and it begins throbbing in pain all over again.

“Lo siento coriño! Not again. I’ll get you some ice.” She ashamedly looks down as she walks to the kitchen.

There’s no one else I’d rather break my nose.

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #woso fanfics #wsl #laia aleixandri #laia aleixandri x reader #laia aleixandri fanfics #manchester city #manchester city women #manchester city wfc #man city women #man city wfc

[fastcardotmp3]

cw: substance abuse, addiction, stobin drugging-related PTSD I'm home sick and found this fully written in my drafts? from march?? apparently?

Steve and Robin, who make jokes about that time we did LSD like it's a funny anecdote to the point where no one knows the actual context of the situation.

(Dustin and Erica would know, if Steve and Robin weren't still self aware enough to decidedly not make jokes about it where those two can hear)

(But still.)

Steve and Robin, who only trust a drink if it comes from the other, who trade off sober duties even if someone else is already designated driver because it's not the same as making sure one of them always has their wits about them.

Steve and Robin who, in the very immediate aftermath of Starcourt, develop two drastically different relationships with substances-- Robin who is detrimentally afraid of the glass of wine her parents sometimes offer her on special occasions versus Steve who can and will try everything available to him just to prove again and again that it was never going to kill him even if he felt like he was dying at the time.

They self destruct in equal but opposite ways for the rest of that first summer before the looking out for each other starts, before the coping via humor starts, before the decision to just call it LSD Steve because if I have to try and process that it was something that I can't read and learn about on top of everything else--

It's not like it ever leaves them though, this way that this specific trauma has fucked them up.

(It's not like Dustin and Erica don't notice, no matter how hard their friends try to hide it.)

It's not like there's anything they can do about it when Steve relapses and goes on a bender that has him losing a whole day of time and waking up to Robin checking his heart rate or when Robin thinks she's in a good enough headspace to do shots with their friends and ends up on the floor of another dirty bathroom with Steve holding her hair back, less from the booze and more from all the hyperventilating, the tears that won't stop until long after she's sober.

(It's not like people don't notice when Robin's jokes about their little LSD trip get pointed on nights Steve's had a bit too much, or how Steve cuts her off from making those jokes at all on nights her hands can't steady around a plastic cup; it's not like they could hide anything from people like this, who hunt monsters and solve mysteries and swallow horrors like the smoothest of whiskeys.)

(It's not like Dustin hasn't gone to Eddie when he gets worried, even if he never spills the whole story. It's not like Erica hasn't asked Nancy unsubtle questions about how to help people with dependency issues. It's not like Eddie and Nancy haven't spoken their own concerns into the quiet dark of night over crackling phone lines where no one else can hear.)

There are nights like this and they happen like clockwork, nights in the little house in Indy for which only two of them are technically on the lease but four and then six and sometimes a whole gaggle of high schoolers still pass through like transients every weekend.

There are nights like this, when the youngest of their ranks aren't around and the booze flows freely and they're out on the porch watching the sun set late with the lift and pull of summertime, when a conversation goes sour with a comment that betrays something that has yet to be spoken aloud.

Steve and Robin.

Steve and Robin who have clearly been through something the rest of them aren't privy to; Steve and Robin who mention it offhandedly without any proper details; Steve and Robin who are hurting right there in front of them and how are they supposed to help how are any of them supposed to--

"Okay, that's it--"

"Nance..."

It's Eddie's warning tone but it's also Jonathan giving her that look from where he's perched on the porch rail and it's also the sudden tension in Robin's brow and confusion in Argyle's and something painfully close to resignation in Steve's.

But this is Nancy Wheeler. It's a miracle she's let them go on like this for as long as she already has.

"No, I'm over the secrets," she shakes her head once, definitive, and levels her gaze on those twin hearts curled together on the porch swing. "You two are going to tell us what happened to you-- who hurt you-- and we're going to fucking fix it."

Steve and Robin, who lean impossibly closer into each other's space.

Steve and Robin, looking ready to bolt.

Steve and Robin, who don't look hopeful for any sort of fixing.

But it's not like it was going to stay unspoken forever.

#dot post #tw: substance abuse #tw: addiction #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stobin #the way i forgot I wrote this and then gave steve that plotline in WR i have one braincell and it's missing half the time #anyways I'm stuck in bed because my body hates me have this <3

[mimicha-arts]

S2 Spoilers, ep7-8, probably ep9

Since I still don't understand the s2e8 intensions, as well as many of the elements regarding who was in Lu Guang's place, I just put together a list of questions that concern me when it comes to whether it was Lu Guang or Cheng Xiaoshi after all. I still have a feeling this is going to be retwisted, but idk.

Following Qiao Ling's speculation, the episode guides us down the path that it was Cheng Xiaoshi, but the plot does not provide direct confirmation. In all other (so far) moments, we were shown, as a result, redrawn frames with a changed eye color, where the character was possessed, in this case this did not happen, the intrigue was deliberately warmed up again. At some point, of course, the visual rules of the setting have been broken, so it's no longer a detail that can be trusted. Like, everyone understands that this way the audience will be more confident that Qiao Ling's words here are the fact (that Lu Guang is possessed by Cheng Xiaoshi), but at the same time there is no 100% confirmation. For what. Okay, well, next I'll split this post into two parts: the actual questions/moments and the motivations of the characters.

Actual questions/moments

1. The call

A very small hidden moment that almost went out of sight. In fact, when Qiao Ling and Xiaoshi looked through Lu Guang's phone, we were shown the contact details of the calls. Qiao Ling called him at 18:42 , but there was no answer (other calls were answered). Since Qiao Ling's call was 50 minutes ago, we understand - Lu Guang's phone viewing time is 19:33.

And then... Pay attention. The previous call received was from Cheng Xiaoshi. The part of the screen where the time is displayed is blocked by the thumb, but it is possible to catch a small frame. 2小時之前 - Two hours ago, so the time was about 17:33 pm (probably after they left the hospital and before they began interrogating Li Tianchen).

THE F actually, cause we weren't shown any calls between Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang, nothing about it were mentioned in any other moment. Another missed scene? I need to know.

2. Password, plan and phone The position of the phone is also different in both chronologies. If this was all Lu Guang's plan, and Lu Guang himself left a phone with a clue for Cheng Xiaoshi, then Lu Guang putted the phone face down in the bathroom. But in the second chronology, when Cheng Xiaoshi definitely dives in the photo, Cheng Xiaoshi himself leaves the phone in a different position, he puts it face up. So, if the position of the phone has changed, Lu Guang himself left the phone for Cheng Xiaoshi in the 1st line, it was not part of the "loop" where Cheng Xiaoshi (technically) leaves the phone in the same place himself.

So, if all this is Lu Guang's plan: Plan or not If so, Lu Guang must have known that Cheng Xiaoshi found out about his password, so generally able to access his phone and photos inside. Technically, if Lu Guang was unaware of Cheng Xiaoshi knowing his password, the photo wasn't left for Cheng Xiaoshi - Lu Guang hadn't planned it at all. But I think, this was planned by him, because otherwise he could have simply delete that single photo (for the safety reasons) from the phone, knowing well what Cheng Xiaoshi would do when he found the photo. Qiao Ling He needed Qiao Ling's participation, which is why he left her the right coordinates. Although I still do not understand why only for her, only because of distrust of the police? In fact, I still don’t understand why it was necessary to put Qiao Ling in such danger, but then again, if it makes sense, then perhaps in the rewritten/alternate events, she should have a bigger role. The reasons The biggest question. Would Lu Guang himself leave the photo as a part of the plan, put Cheng Xiaoshi himself in such danger? Knowing that Cheng Xiaoshi s does not know the real chronology of events, and without a hint with foresight, he can simply change events. Why take such a risk, knowing that Cheng Xiaoshi will not know the correct chronology. Again, if Lu Guang able to see the future, the main point - to save Cheng Xiaoshi and probably get more information about their enemies (if he "followed" the Li Tianchen voluntarily). The only reason (in my mind) he could leave a photo for Cheng Xiaoshi intentionally - because technically Cheng Xiaoshi's already saved, and Lu Guang intentionally need Cheng Xiaoshi to rewrite these events, to jump into photo and radically messed it up due to banal ignorance of the situation in advance. Idk, I think this makes sense, although I don't understand the final point yet. And, if Lu Guang is able to see the future from the present, is he also able to see alternative events?

3. DAMN BOAT

Idk, but the boat thing seems so off. Like, I kinda get why Lu Guang himself is able to drive a boat, but when it comes to Cheng Xiaoshi , I'm just confused. Because, if Lu Guang was possessed here, it means, that Cheng Xiaoshi knows how to drive a boat. And if he is able to jump like this, the boat itself is still next to the shore. So it wasn't that hard just jump on it once again, and if he knows how to drive a boat, he could at least try to keep up with Li Tianchen's boat to save Lu Guang. No?

4. DAMN KETTLE OK. If we assume that it was Cheng Xiaoshi from the future who saved Cheng Xiaoshi from the past, then, in theory, all his actions, although he does not know them for sure without Lu Guang, they should initially lead to success, idk? The only thing he did the same for now - waited for 18:55. But now we have inaccuracies, in particular, a broken window, in the "first" timeline of events, a KETTLE was definitely not used to create such a hole. And Cheng Xiaoshi obviously did not know what exactly he should throw for the same result.

5. "Hide and seek" Okay, it was said that Lu Guang hid in the restroom, waiting for the police to be distracted by the window after kicking the door. Again, these were the words of the characters, not the fact. We see that the restroom's door opens to the inside of the restroom, not to the outside, btw.

Initially, it is said that they did not check the restroom, which means that no one paid attention to it in the first line of events, while the second version of events already leads to the fact that even if Cheng Xiaoshi is not found, the policeman paid his attention.

On camera footage: Lu Guang from the first line of events, does not leave the restroom, just walks down the hallway of the room, the restroom door is closed (but could this be an animation error? idk). Technically, he had to open the door of the restroom on himself, go around it and only after that go out into the corridor of the room, and then go out into the corridor of the hospital. I can't tell if it's a bug, but if not, the details of what Lu Guang did once again are different and doesn't match what Cheng Xiaoshi does.

6. Combat skills. What bothers me the most is his physical condition. Why he was able to jump around so quickly, but then again, we don't know how much time passed between eps, how much his wounds could heal. If we can trust these frames, then his bandages have already been removed (or is he just a wild man and took them off himself ???). I know this is somewhat speculative, again, this is the most confusing part for me. The conclusions about Lu Guang's physical condition and ability to fight are the words of Qiao Ling. But that's also a guess. Since we don't know (almost) anything about Lu Guang, it's hard to guess what skills he has. Because if he saw the future from a photo, then he could simply know and see/remember Li Tianchen's attacks and actions in advance (just like in the special episode form s1) Moreover, all this fight on the shore is an attempt to repel Li Tianchen's punches, not beat him up. In particular, when he tries to grab Cheng Xiaoshi again. Don't give him a chance to touch, take control.

Afterwards, set him aside. Like, the whole fight scene was to protect Cheng Xiaoshi. The man in Lu Guang's place is a person who knew what Li Tianchen was capable of. Technically, Lu Guang may foresaw the future, while if in his place was Cheng Xiaoshi, with full understanding of the situation, the way he puts Lu Guang in danger just destroys the whole point of the story, since Cheng Xiaoshi from the future already wants to avoid Lu Guang's kidnapping.

Despite the fact that Li Tianchen, even if he has good skills, is a-ahem-twink, and even a kick from the foot did not have enough strength to topple him, while Cheng Xiaoshi with just a punch could knock over, and then even lift and throw away a full grown man engaged in martial arts. Literally in episode 2. Idk? Is this really Xiaoshi's physical strength / fighting level in this moment with Li Tianchen?

We all saw Lu Guang's wounds reopen. It was probably because of the fight and such physical activity. Like, the idea that his wounds were opened because of Cheng Xiaoshi's actions... Is somewhat strange? Given that Cheng Xiaoshi from the future is already aware of the danger to Lu Guang. I don't think Cheng Xiaoshi would do something so reckless as to get into a fight, let that happen. Even if the wounds were opened due to the fact that he was no longer possessed by Cheng Xiaoshi… Would Cheng Xiaoshi himself allow this, knowing that this would be the third time Lu Guang had bled to death? 7. Sound There is difference in the same scene from different eps. In ep8, when Li Tianchen is looking at Lu Guang, there is a specific sound similar to sound of ability use, but there is nothing like this in ep7. You can check it yourself: ep8 (04:36) and ep7 (21:13).

We still have speculation that the photo was actually passed on by the brother, given that in the new teaser, it was Li Tianchen who was shown holding the photo. That's why. Is there a possibility that he prepared this trap from the very beginning or also acts as a separate side from Qian Jin, following his own interests. Maybe there is something invisible that connects his plotline with Lu Guang's actions. There are no conclusions. Just suspicious.

Motivation

Probably the most important part. Cheng Xiaoshi and his attitude towards Lu Guang is the main reason why I think that in the first chronology of events it was Lu Guang himself, not Cheng Xiaoshi. If Cheng Xiaoshi really possessed Lu Guang during the first chronology... It just doesn't fit in my head in terms of the character's motivation and personality. Because if its canon: Why on earth Cheng Xiaosh would decide to do it all, while possessing Lu Guang, with whole knowing and awareness that his friend was almost killed, physically suffered, at the same time, knowing that he may bleed again? Like, literally, force him to fight, knowing the wounds might open after it? What, then, is the motivation for while being Lu Guang, not just to put him in danger, but literally risk his life, like, to engage in a FIGHT with the person who almost killed him! And then not only let go of the Li Tianchen, but also rush after him, directly almost voluntarily handing over Lu Guang to the enemy.

It's even has to be *future* Cheng Xiaoshi that way - what is the point for Cheng Xiaoshi, who already has the knowledge of danger, of kidnapping, to do such a thing at all? Again! To save himself? He just handed Lu Guang over to his probable death with his own hands? One of the closest people in his life? This boy, who saw Lu Guang dying?

Who literally thought Lu Guang was dead? Who was willing to rewrite the past for Lu Guang?

The boy who weighed all the blame on his own shoulders? THIS boy?

Sound nothing like Cheng Xiaoshi to me. Not at all, especially when we see throughout all the episodes of his experience, his guilt, his understanding of what Lu Guang is ready to do for him. It just literally killing his entire personality in that way. Like. Am I misunderstanding something? Where is the logic in that case - beyond of my understanding. This, this is the problem I have with "possessing" thing. Because if so, it's either a white hole in the narrative or so out of character that I really hope there is more to unpack. Otherwise, honestly, it's a very bad writing. I hope it's not.

I really don't understand the meaning of some things in the last episode rn, but the current plot likes to play with "misperceptions", so I'm chill enough about them until the last episode of the season comes out.

I don't know, I feel like I spent like 10 or even 12 hours discussing the plot and eps, all this is a collected meta post from discussions with my friend @wrathyforest ， who shares with me both grief and joy, ahaha. Thanks for reading! Feel free to discuss.

#link click #shiguang dailiren #link click spoilers #link click s2 #time agents #lu guang #cheng xiaoshi #this post cost me hours of my life i swear #have fun hahaha #link click theory

[izvmimi]

cw: fluff. teacher!reader.

Just moments after an extended reprise of 'happy birthday' that just barely gets your student to crack a smile, you can feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Reflexively, you pull away from your crowd of students, slipping through the Inumaki clan members that look at you with curiosity to make your way to the garden. Your students haven't noticed the exasperated look on your face, but if they did, they would know it could only be one person contacting you right in the midst of celebration.

“What, Satoru?” you ask in a hushed tone in the hallway. Your voice is stern, but not too stern, as you fail to ever really be mean to him, no matter how hard you try.

Satoru practically whines on the phone before he speaks, and your frustration only mounts. After all, you do feel a little bad for banning him from attending a party where all of Jujutsu Tech and more is present, including his own students, but after hearing Inumaki’s plea this is the only solution.

“There is no way he can still be upset. Can’t I come? Please? I’ll just teleport in, and I have an incredible gift and-”

“No.”

You can practically hear him frown on the other end of the line, and your overly soft heart nearly breaks for him before you re-steady himself. No man has ever died from not being invited to a party.

“If you have a gift, you can leave it outside of the premises and I’ll bring it in, and maybe he’ll consider inviting you in. That’s all you can count on at this point.”

He blows air from his nose, amplified by the sound of the phone receiver.

“Shouldn’t there be a law that states you can’t bully your teacher like this?”

“You’re not his teacher,” you quip.

“I might as well be!”

You sigh. “Let me know when you bring your gift by, and I’ll come get it. Bye, honey.”

He replies with defeated sounding kissy noises, which on their own is an abomination itself, and you hang up. When you turn to return to the event and get yourself a slice of cake, you’re startled by one of your most unintentionally nosy students who leans on the entryway her arms crossed, a smug look on her expression as though she’s caught you red-handed.

Which she has. Technically.

“Was that your boyfriend?” she insists.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you reply in the same tone. You continue walking and she nearly twirls out of your way, keeping pace with you, a big grin on her face.

“Are you gonna see him? How come he’s not here following you around?” she stops, then puts two and two together. “Did you say he can’t come?!”

You give her a look, and she pouts.

“Toge probably doesn’t care. Plus Gojo is now old news anyway, he’s shriveled up, now he’s just some white haired really strong guy. Kinda like a creepy old man.”

You sigh loudly.

“Don’t talk about your teacher like that.”

“You’re my teacher, not him.”

She’s also impossible.

“Let’s focus on your classmate today, okay? This is exactly what Toge was talking about.”

Your student looks surprised for a moment, as if you’ve laid a sudden impossible truth on her and then she nods.

“Wow, good point.”

—

You’ve had more than a slice of Inumaki’s birthday cake, thankful that there were no onigiri ingredients involved, by the time Gojo messages you again to come out and receive the ‘incredible gift’. You make sure this time to clear out any onlookers, including your nosy second-year, and disappear to the location Gojo signals, finding a box large enough that even a particularly annoying, long-limbed human can sit inside.

You scoff loudly.

“Satoru, get out of this box.”

Muffled, he insists in a high voice, “No, no, let me in.”

You growl and he peeks out, then frowns.

“Fine.”

He makes his way out of the box while you cross your arms and tap your foot. He’s practically a walking cartoon, but you tolerate him all the same. Gojo hands you a pristinely wrapped gift, and pouts.

“It’s the latest iPhone.”

You tilt your head. It is a kind gift, but you wonder.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have one of these?”

“Even if he does, this one has my personal phone number in it first so…?”

You give him a look but his grin and thumbs up remains steadfast. You sigh, reaching your hand out for the phone.

“Okay.”

Gojo bats his eyelashes as you take the phone from him, hands in his pockets.

“I still can’t come in?”

“Only if he says so,” you remind him. He nods.

“Fine.”

Then he points to his cheek, bending at the waist. You immediately know what he’s getting at, feeling your face burn in embarrassment.

“Before you leave.” he adds, and you shush him, looking around quickly. A quick kiss, and then you practically scurry back to the party, and he grins as he watches you leave.

#based on kendy’s lovely headcanons #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #daydreams: jjk #mimi’s notes

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART THREE: THOUGHTS ABOUT YOU

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Smut

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

PLEASE NOTE THAT I HAVE REWRITTEN THIS STORY AND PART TWO CAN BE FOUND HERE (rewritten).

Hours later…

Your POV

“What’s wrong?” Emma asked, seeing the look on your face when you walked through the door of your studio apartment which you shared with her.

“I had the worst fucking day” you told her before walking over towards the fridge, opening the freezer and retrieving the bottle of vodka you knew Emma kept hidden there for desperate times.

“That bad huh?” Emma asked as she watched you pour yourself two or maybe three shots of cheap booze into the tallest glass you could find before topping it up with juice.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she then asked and, after taking a big sip from your drink, you nodded and sighed all at the same time.

“The guy I met at Temple Bar is my fucking lecturer” you then blurted out, causing Emma’s chin to drop.

“The mid forty year old you slept with?” Emma asked and you nodded again.

“Yes. Cillian. The one I slept with. Fuck” you spat before breaking out in laughter. “Why is this shit happening to me?” you then asked and, even though this question was a rhetorical one, Emma answered you.

“I believe in fate as you know” Emma told you, knowing very well that you had not been able to get this blue-eyed stranger out of your head. You had told Emma about your reoccurring dreams, featuring him, and you told her that, during your one night with Cillian, you had the best sex ever and that you felt some sort of connection to him.

“Fucking fate? Seriously?” you chuckled. “He is 46, still married with kids…” you began to say just before Emma interrupted you.

“Separated” she corrected you but you did not care about technicalities.

“Whatever” you spat. “He is an actor and my fucking lecturer too” you then pointed out while emptying your glass much too quickly.

“Well, one would hope that he can act if he is teaching an acting class, right?” Emma then chuckled but you shook your head.

“No. You don’t understand. Here. Look” you told her before bringing up your most recent Google Search on your phone and, just as you did, it happened again. Emma’s chin dropped.

“Holy shit. No kidding. He’s famous” she blurted out while clicking through the filmography and you simply rolled your eyes.

“I want to skip this class. I really do. I can’t do it” you pointed out but Emma shook her head.

“You can do it! You are talented and you worked so hard for this, so you shouldn’t just give up now” Emma reminded you and, of course, you knew that she was right.

Acting and dancing were the two things you enjoyed the most and getting a role on stage was your dream. This was what you were working towards and, in order to get there, you had to finish what you have started.

You had important auditions coming up for a theatrical piece combining both, modern theatre and contemporary dance. It was the role that was perfect for you and, whilst you were occasionally performing on stage, it never entailed any acting. It had always been dancing because dancing was what you were comfortable with. Acting, on the other hand, was outside your comfort zone as you were still unable to let go of yourself and immerse yourself in a character.

The lines were easy to learn but pretending to be someone else was not. Allowing yourself to become someone else was what you had to learn. You had to learn that it was okay to appear vulnerable at times but, unlike most actors, you were continuously on guard. It was your protection mechanism and this was what you had to work on in order to get through the auditions.

Cillian, on the other hand, seemed to be an expert in exactly that. He was a highly regarded actor and you hoped that, despite what happened between you, that you could work together. You hoped that you could learn from him and his experience and that both of you could forget about the intimate moments which you have shared.

The sex. The incredible sex. Surely, you could forget about it, right? It was just sex after all… Or was it something else?

Cillian’s POV

When Cillian got home, he too was exhausted and frustrated. After entering and hanging up his key on the hook; he shrugged off his denim jacket and balanced each boot on the chair by the door to unlace them. Once those were off, he took off his socks and the he left everything there on the floor, not feeling like cleaning up right now.

It had been a shit day, to say the least and Cillian was starving for a shower, to be clean, and collected for another day tomorrow. A day where he had to face you again, the woman he had slept with two weeks ago and who had been on his mind for the past two weeks.

The sex you had with each other was incredible, if not the best he ever had and now that he saw you again, the intrusive thoughts about you were back.

Leading himself down the dark hallway, Cillian flicked on the light in the bathroom. He gave himself a good look over in the mirror, lifting a hand to run it through the locks of hair that hung loosely over his forehead and, just as he starred at himself, he wondered whether this was more than just a co-incidence.

But, just like you, however, Cillian did not believe in fate and put his mind at ease.

“Get her out of your fucking head. This is nothing but a stupid mistake. She is only 29. She is your student. You only just separated from Danielle. It would be a bad idea to pursue this” he told himself over and over again just as he pulled off his shirt, revealing his freckled skin to the figure in the mirror before, eventually, stepping away from the vanity.

“But she is so attractive. Absolutely incredible. And smart. Funny. Her smile. Her eyes. The smell of her hair…God that scent…her laugh…her moans…the way her skin felt on mine” his mind went on, playing tricks on him as Cillian took off his briefs. He could feel his manhood stir at the sheer thought of you and this bothered him.

“Stop thinking about her. Fuck. Stop it. You are 46 years old and have no business with a woman like this. No fucking way” he then murmured, actually and literally thinking out loud as, finally, he stepped into the shower.

Cillian turned on the stream and his head ducked underneath the faucet head, letting the water pour right over him, spraying down onto his back and dripping between the crevices of his ass cheeks. It felt oddly comforting and he was letting the water swallow him whole.

Soon, the hot steam from the water caused a heavy fog to appear and, just as it did, Cillian closed his eyes and breathed in deeply while thinking about you once more.

He remembered the twelve hours you shared and, in particular, the morning after your first sexual encounter together.

The morning after was his favourite part of the experience and this was simply due to the fact that he got to see the real you, without make-up and completely off-guard.

Your hair was messy and, despite the fact that you were incredibly tired following a night with next to no sleep, you looked incredible when Cillian caught a first glimpse of you that morning.

You were teasing him, wanting more of him. The scent of your hair lingered in his nostrils and goosebumps rose all over his skin when your delicate fingers made contact with the hair on his chest before descending to where he wanted them touch him most.

Flashback

As he was lying on his back, still asleep and with his legs tangled in the white fleece throw on his bed, Cillian could hear a faint sound by his side, waking him up slowly.

“Hmm” he murmured in response as his foggy mind began to remember the night before.

“Good Morning” he heard you whisper as you reached out a finger to trace the length of his arm, enjoying being able to stare at his nakedness in the morning light shining through the window.

“Good Morning” he murmured again in a trance as you sat up and slid your fingers slowly down his chest, stopping at his waist where the fleece was wrapped tightly around his hips and slipping your fingers underneath ever so gently to untangle him until he was completely naked.

Cillian muttered something and you moved your hand to his hip before leaning over to lick along his collarbone.

He tasted salty and gorgeous as you licked down his chest and stomach to his cock, already hard and waiting for you.

“Didn’t we say that this was going to be a one night sort of thing?” Cillian reminded you before a loud groan escaped him just as you sucked his cock in to your hot, wet mouth.

For a moment your tongue was licking up and down his length and circling the tip as you sucked hard and bobbed your head slowly up and down. You could taste the mingled after taste of last night’s sex on your tongue as you sucked, your juices mixed with his cum and your sweat, and you felt yourself getting even wetter.

“We did, but it still counts as a one off until I vacate these premises” you pointed out after withdrawing your hot mouth from his cock for a brief moment simply to answer his question before, finally, resuming your actions again.

“Fuck. Keep doing that” Cillian groaned as you glanced up at him, seeing him watching you, eyes half closed, and you caught his eye, moaning as you started to move your head faster.

“You look so fucking sexy with my cock in your mouth” Cillian then moaned as he could feel the vibrations travelling up his shaft and he was shocked to realise how close he was to cumming already.

This was unusual for him and since he did not want to cum just yet, he used his hands to gently move your head off his cock and guided you up to his mouth for a kiss.

You complied with his request and crawled back up the bed eagerly. You laid down with your leg over his, your knee brushing not so innocently against his hard cock as you kissed, your wet pussy rubbing against his hip.

“I want your cock inside of me one last time” you told Cillian in between kisses before, finally, he rolled onto his side and reached his hand down, feeling just how wet you were.

“You are soaking” he observed while teasing you with his fingers. “Aren’t you sore?” he then asked while your breathing quickened as he slowly rubbed his fingers over your swollen clit.

“I am so fucking sore. But I want more. Please” you moaned against his mouth as you felt yourself getting close to orgasm.

“Then take what you need” Cillian smirked and you immediately pushed your hand against his shoulder, rolling on top of him and sitting up, rubbing your wetness over the length of his cock before bending down to lick it off with slow strokes of your tongue.

“I will. I am going to ride you until you can’t take it anymore and fill my pussy up with even more of your cum” you winked before sitting up again. You rested your hands on Cillian’s chest before sliding slowly onto him, gasping as he filled you up.

“Fuck. That’s it. Make yourself cum on my cock” Cillian groaned as you began to rock your hips back and forth with him buried deep inside you.

You were rubbing your clit against his flesh and relishing the feeling of fullness before starting to ride him properly.

Cillian grabbed tightly onto your hips, encouraging you to move faster, digging his nails into your back as his breathing became rapid and unsteady.

He held you taut in his grip and he would bring you down hard. Your tight pussy was taking him so well, leaking all over his cock, making you both moan for grace until, eventually, you could feel that he was growing even bigger inside you and you clenched your muscles, pushing down hard so your clit was hitting against him with each thrust as he moved his hips up to meet yours.

Your eyes were closed now and you were making little breathy sounds as you felt yourself on the edge before your muscles clenched and you came undone.

“Oh my god yes!” you screamed as you came hard before immediately collapsing against Cillian chest and breathing hard with your heart racing.

Grasping your hips, Cillian flipped you onto your back before pounding into you again, faster and faster, his balls bouncing off your arse as he drove into you, lifting your ankles to his shoulders as he thrusted deeper, before reaching his high also.

You too came again just as he was emptying himself into you once more with a long groan before kissing your forehead and letting go of your legs.

Your legs dropped to the bed and Cillian collapsed by your side, breathing just as hard as you did.

“Fuck this was incredible” he then told you before pulling you in for another kiss.

“It was the best fucking sex I ever had” you admitted, knowing very well that this wasn’t going to happen again. It was a one-off encounter and all that would be left of it afterwards were memories.

***End of Flashback***

“The best fucking sex ever… She was right…It was the best fucking sex ever…” was what, once again, came to his mind as your one-night stand flashed back at him. He remembered how incredibly good it felt when you rode him that morning, making him cum much quicker than he ever came before. Even with Danielle, whom he had been married to for many years, the sex was not that good. It was not that passionate, loud or animalistic. There was something raw and pure about it. Something primal even and Cillian enjoyed every moment of it.

It was intense and Cillian knew what would happen now that he was thinking about you and the warmth of your skin again.

The thoughts about you got him so riled up, and sure enough, looking down as the water dripped beads from the ends of his hair, Cillian saw that his member had become hard.

“Fuck” he cursed again, trying to think about something else, but he could not.

Thus, Cillian licked his lips while the water was falling from his nose. He was looking down again as he braced both hands on the wall, the veins in both, trailing down his forearms barely popping out. He was now allowing his mind to wander, wander back to you. He was thinking of your morning together and about how guilty he felt right now for wanting you even though you were his student and, even this sense of guilt only caused his cock to grow harder and bigger, making it throb from the single thought of your body on top of his.

Cillian then audibly cursed, his voice deep, almost a hint of gravel, and whisper, "Fuck Y/N! Why are you making me think those things?" he was humming to himself when he stood back from the wall before, suddenly, shutting the water off.

Cillian then reached out for the closest towel, drying his hair and leaving it messy on his head when he went straight to his bedroom.

His erection wasn’t calming down and it was beginning to hurt now. Cillian knew that he needed release and, even though he momentarily tried to look at some random movies online, the only thing on his mind was you. How you felt on him and how tight you were.

He furrowed his brows. He was annoyed with himself and sat down on his bed before, eventually, lying back.

His legs were stretched out and he did not care about whether or not he got his sheets wet. He needed to calm down, desperately.

It would be wrong to think of you like that now that you were his student but he could not help it. You consumed his every thought now and, just as Cillian ran a hand through his damp hair while staring up at the ceiling with despair, his other hand drifted downwards.

His was heart pounding now at the thought of you being on top of him, riding him just like that morning you have spent together. He thought about your moans, those little whimpers, and whines when he held you down and fucked you senseless. You loved it.  Every bit of it. He could tell.

Finally, touching himself, Cillian curled his fingers around his length, his hips almost bucking with need, lifting off the bed to thrust into his hand and he tilted his head back, hair covering his eyes again and he released a bitter groan, his own moans filling the room when he stroked along his base all while he remembered how much you came on top of him. So loud and erotic.

"Fuck” he panted, eyes fluttering as the world around him disappeared and he finally gave into his imagination. Thoughts of you were coming back in full force and he didn't care as he was thrusting up into his hand again, pretending it was your body instead. He imagined your heat swallowing him up and, just as he remembered it all, he realised that he was close to cumming already.

In his mind, he could feel it, your hands on his chest, fingers and nails digging into his skin as you rode him, looking down at him with that naughty expression of yours.

Lifting his head, only to let it drop right back to his pillow as Cillian chewed hard on his lip, gasping out a few seconds later as he continued to stroke his cock.

Then, he finally opened his eyes, just at the right time to see the tip of his cock explode with three ropes of cum, painting his abs. He found his release but, still, his whole body was twitching with need.

He dared to give his softening length a few more tight tugs and that alone made him whimper again.

Cillian eventually let go, hands shaking, and, as soon as he got the chance, he reached for the tissues on his bedside table to clean himself up while telling himself that this was it. Enough was enough.

He knew that he had to get you out of his head so that he could act professionally around you at drama school and, with that in mind, he decided to follow his friend’s advice and go on a date with someone else.

It was a date that Dermont had organised even before he had met you but which Cillian had declined to attend. He told Dermont that he was not ready for dating anyone just yet but, perhaps, it was worth a shot. Even if it was just for a bit of fun.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

[scarletsaphire]

Dani and Danny return to Amity Park after a long time away, one last time.

--

This is my first fic for @phicphight, done for @ashseadreamer's prompt: They lay side by side on a blanket, fingers intertwined as they whispered dreams into the night. The fireflies look like falling stars-- beautiful, mesmerizing, and sad.

I hope you enjoy!

"Oh thank the Ancients!" Dani called out the moment the run down, faded "Welcome to Amity Park" sign appeared in their line of sight. "It feels like we've been flying forever!"

"It does feel like its been a long time, hasn't it," Danny replied. "It's nice to be back home."

Dani laughed. "I know. I still think we should've stayed in Taiwan."

"Yeah, well, you lost at rock paper scissors, so there." Danny stuck his tongue out at her, and Dani returned the gesture. It wasn't long before they both devolved into giggles.

After the two of them regained their composure, Danny spoke again. "C'mon, we've got a few hours to kill before sundown. What do you want to do first?"

Dani hummed thoughtfully. "Do you think the Nasty Burger milkshake machine is still running?"

"There's only one way to know for sure."

There was, unsurprisingly, nobody working, but one look at the machine, wrapped in bright yellow caution tape, told the half ghosts exactly what they needed to know. Much more surprisingly was the bundle of french fries, tucked in the very back corner of the freezer and next to some nasty sauce.

"Oh, there's no way that's any good," Danny said as Dani pulled the bag out.

"It's not like it can kill us any more," Dani pointed out as she opened the bag. "Besides. It's better than nothing, right?"

"Fair point."

The two ate the fries on the rooftop of the building. They definitely didn't taste as good as Danny remembered them being, but he blamed it on the fact that they were cold. At least they were still edible. Technically.

Dani belched, the sound echoing through the quiet streets of Amity Park. "That hit the spot."

All Danny did in reply was nod. At his silence, Dani turned to face him. "What's wrong?"

Danny shrugged. "You know. Same old, same old."

Dani leaned back on her hands, staring up at the sky. The sun burnt an angry red, low in the sky. It would've hurt her eyes, if she'd been human. "Yeah, I know." She tilted her head to the side, so that it rested on Danny's shoulder. "I can't imagine how weird this all is."

She felt the ice chill of his breath on her head. "It's... something, alright." He lifted his arms, pushing Dani's head off, and floated to his feet. "But we're not going to waste our time feeling sorry for me, okay? We only have..." He glanced down at his wrist, where a sleek watch sat. "An hour and a half. So, what do you want to do? We can check out the park, or maybe those sewer rat ghosts you befriended a while ago?"

Dani narrowed her eyes at him, the same expression he made whenever he was thinking. "Fentonworks. I think we should check out Fentonworks."

Dani did not miss the way Danny stiffened, or the single, sudden swallow, but his demeanor shifted back to casual not even a whole second later. "Sure. Let's go."

--

The halls of Fentonworks were never quiet. When Danny had been little, they were filled with the noises of two small children running around, getting up to all sorts of mischief. One of his earliest memories was of himself running through the halls on tiny little toddler legs, Jazz in hot pursuit and his mother not far behind.

When they'd outgrown those kinds of games, other sounds filled the void. Jazz's tuba practice from when she played in middle school faded into Danny listening to Dumpty Humpty with Sam and Tucker faded into alarm sounds for ghost attacks and phone calls about Danny's academic performance.

No matter how those noises changed, one sound remained consistent; the sound of metal and electricity and machinery. Sometimes it was loud enough to drown everything else out, and sometimes it was nothing more than the persistent hum emanating from the walls, so quiet and routine that Danny only ever noticed it was there when it wasn't.

Coming back to that familiar hum felt right, even if he wasn't pleased to admit it.

The hum of the portal underneath his feet, still as strong as the day he'd turned it on, vibrated in time with his core, with his bones, and he felt a bit like he was slotting back into place, like a puzzle getting completed.

It was nice to feel it again, after so long.

Danny ran his hand along the shelf in the living room, his gloved hand coming back coated with dust. Without a second thought, he turned and blew the debris into Dani's face.

She sneezed, shooting herself up into the air a good foot, before floating back down to ground level. "Hey!" she shouted. "What was that for?"

Danny laughed and danced out of the way of her lunge. It was clumsy; he didn't know if she was thrown off from the dust, or everything else. "Revenge."

"But I didn't do anything!"

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that." Danny turned away, floating down the hallway. "Come on. Help me find a duster or something."

"But why? You've never cared about dusting before."

Danny shrugged. "Better now than never, right?"

Dani fell quiet behind him, but he didn't mind. He'd made it to the closet, and was busy searching for the aforementioned feather duster. The closet was filled to the brim with old junk; boxes of rusty spare parts, bits and bobs that would've been useless even if they were brand new, and cardboard boxes that looked more like flat pieces of cardboard after sitting under everything else for so long. No duster, or even something that could be used as one in a pinch.

He laid eyes on it after floating up to the top shelf, phasing through the boxes of board games so faded or covered in dust that their names were illegible. The blanket was folded neatly in the far back corner, and sparkled ever so slightly in Danny's natural green glow. He pulled it out without a second thought.

"Not a duster, but I guess if you're set on this idea," Dani started before Danny cut her off with a look.

The blanket was tiny and the years spent in the closet hadn't been kind to it; there were holes in the sides and center from where a moth had gotten to it, but Danny could still tell what it was.

"Do you recognize this at all?" he asked.

Dani narrowed her eyes for a moment, studying the worn fabric, before shaking her head. "Might not have gotten those memories."

"Yeah, well, I'm not too surprised," Danny said. "But this was my favorite blanket when I was a kid. I think Mom had to pry this out of my hands when i was in kindergarten, and even then I would try and sneak it into my backpack every day before the bus came."

He ran his fingers over the fabric. The edges, which had been lined with a soft silk, were still shiny, if not as reflective as he remembered them being, and the swirling pattern of pastel blues, oranges, and purples in the middle had muddied together into a faded mess. He folded it back up as neatly as he could before shoving it into his side.

"Are we using it for dusting after all?" Dani questioned.

"Of course not."

"Then why...?"

Danny didn't have a good answer, but he hadn't spent so long trash talking other ghosts to not be a quick thinker. "It might be nice to have. For later."

Dani nodded slowly. "Does this mean we're giving up on the feather duster dream? Because I'll be honest, that's not what I had in mind when I said we should come here."

"Oh?" Danny asked, flooding his voice with fake innocence. "And what did you have in mind?"

Dani opened her mouth before closing it again. "Fine. Dusting it is!"

They left Fentonworks an hour later. It wasn't perfect, but it was a lot closer to how Danny remembered it.

--

"I think this is the spot," Dani said, her hand shielding her eyes.

"Looks right to me," Danny agreed. Dani had started to lower herself to the ground before his hand on her shoulder stopped her. With a mischievous grin, he pulled the blanket out from his side and laid it out on the ground with a flourish.

"Told you it'd be useful," he said.

Dani didn't have it in her to argue.

The two of them laid down next to each other, arm pressed against arm, both pairs of eyes trained on the sky. Despite the time, it wasn't dark. Small lights danced in the sky, spinning and swirling amidst the stars.

"I didn't expect them to be so beautiful..." Dani whispered, near reverentially.

"Neither did I." Danny's tone matched hers.

"It's hard to believe they're-"

"Fireflies."

Dani spared one glance over at Danny, whose eyes remained trained on the sky. "Fireflies?"

"It's hard to believe they're fireflies," Danny repeated.

Dani shifted her eyes back to the sky. "Right. Fireflies."

She felt the blanket shift as Danny nodded his head. "We're just two cousins, watching the fireflies, on a warm summer evening."

"Just two cousins," Dani agreed. "And tomorrow, we're going to sneak into the movies, and we're going to watch the goriest, nastiest, R-rated movie we can get into."

Danny laughed, but it blended into the soft buzz that filled the air. "Yeah. And we're going to buy enough candy and popcorn and slushies to make us sick."

"Make you sick, maybe. I'm made of stronger stuff."

"If you say so,” Danny said with a roll of his eyes. 

Dani kept talking to fill the silence, even as the buzzing noise got louder. “After the movies, we're going to come back here. To the park."

"Yeah?"

It was Dani's turn to nod. "We're gonna play hide and seek."

"Whose gonna hide?"

"You will. Obviously. Because you were too weak to keep down the snacks."

"Oh, so you're going to send me on a wild goose chase through the woods?"

"We need to build your endurance for next time."

She heard Danny's sharp inhale next to her, followed by a deep cough. The scent of smoke filled Dani's nose, but she didn't need to breathe, so she didn't let it bother her. The fireflies danced in the air above her, so much brighter and closer than they were before.

When Danny had cleared the soot out of his lungs, he answered. "Next time. Right."

Dani's eyes burnt. She wanted to close them against the smoke and the angry, searing light, but she couldn't. She couldn't look away from the lights on the sky, falling ever closer. For a moment, she tore her eyes away to look at Danny's face. Tears streamed down his cheeks openly, and she wasn't sure whether it was from the air or his feelings. She reached out the few inches to Danny's hand, intertwining her fingers with hers.

"You don't have to watch," she whispered. The buzzing sound had gotten louder, changing to a whooshing that almost drowned at her words.

"You know I have to," Danny answered just as quietly. "This is my home. I can't just-" He paused for a moment. "Someone needs to see this." He pulled his hand away from hers to wipe away the tears. "I promised not to waste the time feel sorry for myself, and here I am."

Dani didn't answer. She didn't have anything to say that she hadn't said a dozen times over, through theirs hours of planning this day. She'd tried to talk him out of it, originally. She didn't see the reason they needed to be here, didn't think it was a good idea, but Danny had been insistent. Dani could understand that, at least. Amity Park had always been his home, not hers. Earth had always been his home.

It made sense he'd want to say goodbye.

The lights in the sky were closer now, close enough that the air was hot, and her watery eyes made them blur and elongate. The whooshing was louder now, so loud that she couldn't hear anything else.

The sound of the first meteor crashing was deafening, even with it being nearly a mile away. The ground shook beneath her back, and Dani couldn’t keep her eyes open against the searing heat anymore.

The world froze in an instant. Every sound, every motion, even the temperature in the air. 

Their time was up.

Dani opened her eyes, grateful to see the swirling green portal covering her view of the sky. Clockwork floated on the mouth of the portal, perpendicular to them. His face was customarily stoic, and his gaze was focused on Danny, who seemed to be staring straight through him.

"It's time to go," she said quietly. Her words shook Danny out of his trance, and he nodded stiffly before floating to his feet.

They'd made it most of the way to the portal before he turned around and hurried back to where they'd been laying, gathering the blanket back up in his arms once more, and returning to Dani's side. He mumbled something under his breath that Dani couldn't figure out, before walking through the portal. He didn't look back.

Dani did. It was a terrible sight, the world burning around her. She took one final deep breath, even though the smoke burned her nose, before stepping to the other side of the portal. It was time to say goodbye.

Their final goodbye to their dying world.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny fenton #danielle fenton #phic phight #phic phight 2024 #team human #phic phight team human

[loremaster]

rain code dlc thoughts

watched em all (spoilers obviously)

desuhiko:

can't believe this guy literally tried flirting with a child. he has gone unchecked for too long. we need to beat him up

enyne is good. i would love to see her in a cool thief outfit

not worth $5

fubuki:

the interactions between the detectives were cute. but i wish she'd gotten a chance to shine more on her own

it was kind of aggravating how slow they solved the mystery though. all that wondering about what the numbers could possibly mean... y'all the die was right there

not worth $5

halara:

kind of a shame that this one was the only actual investigative one. it was great!!! i liked the mystery setup and i liked figuring out how the culprit pulled it off even if the identity of the culprit was obvious the moment he showed up

"Good girl, Sugar" lololololol

good to know halara can be bought with cats instead of shien. love that yakou's totally onto their shit

and the cat they have a picture of is REAL!!! IT'S NOT A RANDOM JPG FROM THE INTERNET (WHICH I HAD ASSUMED)

worth $5

vivia:

i love how before it came out we were all like "please... one conversation with yakou... even just a mention of him would be okay" and then we got hit with a flaming rainbow fist #LoveWins

vivia all like "i wish i had something in this world to care about" and yakou literally forcing open the doors to his cold dead heart in response

the way he keeps flashing back to all the little things yakou has done to care for him... vivia you can't deny the truth anymore. you can't run from these gay thoughts

fellas is it gay to be another man's reason for living? (only if you share an umbrella)

for those who don't know, sharing an umbrella is like the most romantic thing you can do in japan. the only way this could have been more explicitly textually gay is if one of them pointed out how beautiful the moon was.

where's my Melt amv

'i'll enjoy the scenery along the way' *yakou seductively swaying his hips back and forth* HELLO???????????????????????

i hope after that is when vivia finally agrees to that dinner date

honestly up until now i've been very attached to the idea of vivia being head over heels for yakou the whole time and yakou not ever really noticing but now???? my god. this chief really can bisexual

speaking of bi i'm also not opposed to the idea of vivia/ryo... them both being like 'i'm interested in you' 'i'm interested in you too' oh are you now? hmmmm...

and they were both ghosts (oh my god they were ghosts)

I was saying to my friends while we were playing it that it makes sense the first suicide was 5 years ago, before the blank week incident... because otherwise she wouldn't have been a ghost at all, just a walking corpse

loved that line btw. 'all humans are just walking corpses' good news vivia, you're among peers here in kanai ward

worth $5. i mean technically since vivia/yakou dlcs are bundled together (gaaaay) it only cost $2.50 so it's extra worth it.

the amount of fanfiction that will inevitably come out of this is worth way more than $5

yakou:

his hips still do the little wiggle even as a zombie. can't slay the sashay away <3

him thinking of all the other detectives.... UUU....

yuma's flashback is from ch5 after yakou's already dead (but clearly there's still enough of him left...)

desuhiko's... is it from the dlc? idk. he said "i won't cause any problems" and then went on to cause many problems

halara's scene from the dlc is clearly a moment that made a big impression on yakou LMFAO... i mean if halara nightmare sat in MY chair it would make an impression on me too :flushed:

fubuki's i'm pretty sure is from ch.4 as yakou is dying on the floor?? he must have felt so bad, hearing her cry so much while he was fading away and couldn't do anything about it... his last moments UUUUUU

vivia gets the FUCKING aforementioned umbrella scene. sad wet cat man. learning to accept kindness and finding something (someone) worth living for... the exact moment vivia falls in love with him lmfao. and this is the moment that sticks out in yakou's zombie brain. seeing someone in need and actually being able to reach out and help them (for once). ;_;

and then SHE!!!!!!! SHEEEEEEEEEE

i shrieked when i saw her

mad she STILL doesn't have a name but oh man. i love her. i mean i already loved her when i saw the labcoat + turtleneck combo but the GLASSESSSSSS. and her VOICE AARGGGHHH they picked the perfect va for her

She must've given him the glasses while she was still alive, since he's the one wearing them in The Photo. good call, he looks naked without them

and now we really understand why yakou is as pitifully broke as he is, because he can't bring himself to make the corrupt choice that screws over innocent people for the sake of money. love that for him. he suffers so much for the sake of his city

very funny that he couldn't recognize his childhood friend (i'm assuming she recognized him immediately from across the room lmao). love the idea that she's trans. they're t4t your honor

she asked the most useless man to be her bodyguard but we all know who's protecting whom lmao

i feel like she must have been the one who proposed to him. or at least knowingly coaxed him into it haha

AND THE BADGE... UUUUUU.... and her ghost led him to it.... she had such an important job to do...

need to see vivia talk to her now. ghost 2 ghost communication. yakou simp 2 yakou simp

i think she would tell yakou to go kiss that goth boy silly

and most importantly... the medicine. the research... her dream lives on... i thought it was stupid that makoto literally cancelled everything about the homunculus research - sure they didn't need to make any more but how about research into alternate diets? or uv protection beyond like. sunscreen. WHAT ABOUT HER RESEARCH MAKOTO. PLEASE

so the existence of a possible cure for zombie homunculus begs the question... what's next for yakou? we thought his story was done but turns out it's far from yakouver, bitches. he's coming back one way or another.

what will he do with this magical macguffin - bring it to somewhere they can analyze it and duplicate it, or just take the pill himself? how complete is this untested theoretical cure? will yakou Come Back Wrong? is he gonna struggle to speak? (though that'd be a waste of kaiji tang)... is he gonna struggle with the urge to, you know, eat human flesh? i think that would be pretty hot cool

of course there's the chance it won't work at all. or will just straight up kill him, speedrun to reuniting with dead wife

definitely worth $5. or $2.50.

but at the same time since it actually does continue the main plot of rain code in an interesting way (or hint at it) i think they should bundle it with the main game instead of vivia's dlc

i mean if i had it my way they'd ALL be free but... i get it. they gotta gauge popularity somehow (and pay the devs/vas for extra work)

anyway. i should be working on homework but no. this game has absolutely ruined me

#rain code

[atopvisenyashill]

There's this weird thing going on Reddit right now where people are claiming that legally, Rhaenyra children are not bastards. And I was wondering if you agree or disagree. I think that people are just making up their own canon lore at this point.

Well. Okay I think I’m about to give an answer that is a little spicy but when I get around to my ultimate point I think everyone is going to go "yeah it makes sense that's how you feel, that tracks." Let me start with a personal story to be extra annoying-

My mom, after separating from my dad, swore of marriage. Marriage derailed her life, it had derailed my grandma's life, so she decided that even if she truly fell in love again, she would stay unmarried because clearly marriage jinxes love. She met my stepdad and as he had been divorced three times (and bitterly each time too) he agreed. He proposed to her but it was really just a commitment thing - I promise I am all in on this relationship, and by wearing this ring, you promise too. He moved in. They had one of my siblings, K, and still remained unmarried despite pushback from a few relatives and friends.

And then my stepdad needed knee surgery. And my mom couldn't put a domestic partner on her insurance. So a week before my second sibling, B, was born, after my aunt finished teaching summer school for the day, on what was a random Thursday afternoon, we all put on some nice clothes, piled into the van, and went down to city hall where they got hitched and I cried while everyone made fun of me because their toddler was literally running around the waiting room, it was not a big deal! My parents were both wearing jeans!!! We went to Baker's Square after, not even a nice restaurant! Do you know how this marriage has affected K and B? Not even a little! Do you know why?

BECAUSE NONE OF THIS MATTERS.

There is no moral or biological difference between a child born in wedlock and a child born outside of it. If you put K and B's blood under a microscope and I didn't tell you the ages would you be able to tell the difference between them? Would you be able to figure out which one of my siblings is a bastard and which one is trueborn? No, you would not because the difference doesn't exist biologically, ontologicaly, ecologically, anthropologically, whatever ology you want to bring up, and I think what this fandom finds most frustrating is that there is also no legal difference because LAWS ARE MADE UP. THEY DONT FUCKING MATTER. THEY ARE MAN MADE. I need this fandom to kill the prosecutor that lives in their head and stop arguing over whether Rhaenyra’s oldest boys are ~really~ bastards or not. The “truth” of this is just as it is for my family - it’s completely emotional, situational, and dependent on the feelings of the people involved in it!

Alicent & Otto & Criston, in both the books and the show, have an ulterior motive to insist that legally Rhaenyra’s boys are bastards. They can talk about propriety and legality all they want, but not only were those boys raised and loved by Laenor & Corlys, the concepts of marriage & wedlock & legitimacy are merely tools used to keep people in their place, something those three are very aware of because Otto manipulates the law in order to cut Daemon out of the line of succession which is exactly what kicks off this conflict in the first place! Corlys & Laenor & Rhaenyra have completely different but still existent ulterior motives to insist that legally the boys are true born. They can talk about “well technically” and cite whatever law or precedent they want but again, this same insistence on their legitimacy is a cover for the fact that if they ARE admitted to be not Laenor’s, they all lose access to power.

Not only that, but both Rhaenyra and Alicent become insistent on these competing legalities because they are worried the other will kill their children. Alicent all but confirms that she would have killed them if Rhaenyra had accepted terms with her nasty comment about their deaths when Rhaenyra takes the capital, but Rhaenyra throws her own insistence that she won’t hurt her siblings out the window with b&c.

So yeah, people are making up their own canon lore here because both Otto and Rhaenyra are ALSO making up their own canon lore here. That’s the entire point. Both of these sides have their own agendas, their own very rational fear of the other, and instead of realizing they have to compromise just a bit to get out of the shitshow they’ve found themselves in, they escalate at every turn until they’re all dead and so are their dragons.

The point is - I think everyone is missing here that George is making fun of you nerds who spent all your time insisting they’re bastards or not and debating the legality ad nauseum. He has Stannis ranting about the sanctity of the line of succession and House Baratheon and everyone misses that Stannis is a fucking loser for this because the line started one generation ago and if he didn't want Robert overthrown by Cersei maybe he should have made sure Robert wasn't raping and beating her all the time!! It is the same exact thing here!! If they didn't want Rhaenyra to have bastards, they shouldn't have jerked her around as heir for years then trapped her in a marriage she resented to fix their stupid ass mistakes and if they didn't want the whole thing to escalate into a bloody war, they shouldn't have murdered Luke and Jaehaerys!! That simple!!!!

LEGITIMACY AND MARRIAGE ARE NOT REAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#THIS IS MY OFFICAL STANCE. YOU MAY QUOTE ME ON IT AND I LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR LETTERS. #yes that is a craig ferguson reference!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #also i am using royal we general we etc anon i am not mad at you i am simply being dramatic for purposes of humor. i hope that comes across #asks #anons #legimtacy in asoiaf #lucerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #joffrey velaryon #the dance of the dragons #i just cannot emphasize enough how much i do not care about this argument. #those boys are rhaenyra's sons. they are laenor's. they are harwin's. they are daemon's. because those are the people #that raised them and loved them and contributed to molding them. #the legality is a smokescreen. do not let it fool you!!! the greens do NOT care about that at the ending of the day #anymore than corlys does!!!!!!!!!!!

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

I know I’ve made posts about the egg line before, but I’m really not over it and the implication that something that simple holds. Because it’s just eggs, right? It shouldn’t matter. But it’s a startling line because it’s heavy—

“I’ve changed. You don’t know me anymore.”

Because this entire series Carson has been pinched back by Charlie: the way she’s constantly scrambling for his calls, worrying about him, the “you thinking about Charlie?” when she gets in her head about having sex with Greta. The way she is always still somehow surrounded by him, even when she isn’t, because she technically is married and that’s her only point of safety in her journey of self-discovery. It’s her protection. And then the moment she actually discovers the gay bar and realizes that her wants and needs and desires aren’t unrealistic, aren’t weird— the moment after she takes her girlfriend out on a date and takes off her ring and lets herself feel free and be her own person, Charlie comes crashing back into her life.

And there’s a relief there, of course there is. Because she still cares about him and he’s safe and he’s alive and he’s home. But that moment— that tiny moment where Greta comes down the stairs and is watching them and Carson sees her watching them and stutters enough that Charlie looks at Greta, too?? That’s something huge. And then Carson protects herself from every giant, huge, swirling feeling that’s connected to Greta by running just like Greta does until she gets to the hotel and her husband orders for her and she (seemingly without thinking) corrects him and asks for what she actually wants. And that in and of itself is such a huge moment because it all comes full circle to the “it’s okay to want things, Carson” and I think, I think she scares herself a little bit because she stood up for herself and she was her own person and in that moment, she didn’t want what Charlie wanted for her. And after everything— after the haircut and kissing Greta and becoming the coach and having to put her foot down, she still wobbles. She buries herself back under Charlie’s shadow and tries to go back to how things were. She asks him if they can just pretend like they’re back home and everything is normal. But the moment is still there, glaring her right in the face: she has changed. He doesn’t know her anymore.

This isn’t what she wants her “normal” to be.

And I think that really, truly, it’s after the egg line that Carson realizes herself just how much she has changed (well, the egg line and Greta chewing her out about her pep talk). And it’s such an informing moment for the viewer, because it’s small but it’s striking. And it’s effective. And it’s so, so beautiful and weighted and real.

#I just have a lot of feelings about this okay??? #a league of their own #aloto #a league of their own series #a league of their own spoilers #a league of their own 2022 #aloto 2022 #aloto series #aloto spoilers #alotosource #carson shaw #greta gill #charlie shaw #carson x greta #gretson #greta x carson

[currantlee]

Get Your Tissues ready! We're Analyzing the German Dub of Zelda's Awakening (BotW)

Translation: Enough... It is useless. English Localization: Link, save yourself! Go!

As a Zelink shipper, I actually really love the English version of this line, where Zelda tells Link to not die for her. However, as a writer, I prefer the German version. See, in the English version of the game, Zelda strikes me as almost blind to the reality of the situation. Meanwhile, in German, she is desperate because the situation is, quite frankly, hopeless - note how she even states that it's useless (to fight) here. I'm going to come back to this later, so keep it in mind. For now, let's move on.

Translation: I beg you... You mustn't die too... English Localization: I'll be fine! Don't worry about me!

Zelda uses the expression auch noch here, which technically means too. However, it implies something happening on top of everything else, in this case, after everyone else has already died. This also serves as a transition from the previous memory, in which Zelda states (in German) that everyone is dead because of her.

Again, my Zelink heart loves the English version, but I think the German version has its own appeal. Considering that Zelda blames herself for the deaths of the four Champions, and that she doesn't want Link to die too might not sound Zelink-y at first, but consider for a second. The Champions were Zelda's friends, and one of them was her mother figure. Her father is also dead. She pretty much has only Link left at this point - and we can guess from the other memories (as this is the final once you find in the game) that even though they had a rough start, he is extremely important to her. Even though it's not as explicit as in English, I think it's still a really nice moment that shows how important he has become to her, as more than just a bodyguard.

Translation: Run away! English Localization: Run!

I really like the contrast between the scene in which Link protects Zelda from the Yiga, and this scene. There are some obvious parallels, only that in this scene, Link is too severely injured to save Zelda anymore (and in the end, she saves him instead). He tries his best though. I very much appreciate the effort that was put into his expression in this entire scene!

Translation: No!!! English Localization: No!

... Three exclaimation marks, guys. Three. Exclaimation. Marks.

Okay, but seriously, I kind of love his moment where Zelda throws herself inbetween Link and the Guardian. It contrasts nicely with how Link protects her from the Yiga earlier in the game's backstory, and also with how he tries to defend her (even though he's gravely injured) in this scene.

Translation: Was... Was that me...? English Localization: Was... Was that...

I really love that Zelda's Lullaby is sung by a choir after she purifies the Guardians. Also, the fact that she is shot from bottom view here, which makes her look greater, and also reminds me personally of the Goddess Statues a bit. All of this invokes awe, and really conveys that something very powerful and important has just happened.

On the localization note, I like that Zelda specificalls asks if she herself just did that in German. After blaming herself for pretty much everything that went wrong throughout the entire backstory and feeling useless, this is a very important moment for her, and the German localization makes it about her, both as the wielder of the sacred power to seal the darkness, and Zelda as a person.

Translation: What...?! English Localization: The power...

I like that we get a shot of the back of Zelda's hand too, showing that the triforce that appeared earlier has disappeared again.

I like that Zelda is more stunned and confused as to what just happens in the German version. In English, she seems to know what's up right away, but I actually like that she seemingly needs some time to process (which she won't get unfortunately - someone give this girl a break!) what just happened. Really helps reinforce the gravity of this event!

Translation: Oh no... Oh no, oh no! English Localization: No, no...

Despite the fact that she would need time to process what just happens, Zelda immediately looks after Link when he collapses 🥺 If that doesn't show you how much she cares about him at this point, I don't know what does.

Translation: You can't die! English Localization: Link! Get up!

Zelda uses the same phrasing (darfst nicht) as before, but this time, it's much much desperate. While before, she was trying to get Link to run, she is scared for his life now. Before, she used the phrase more in a sense of "if you keep going, you're going to die like everyone else, and you must not do that" in an attempt to get Link to run. Here she is using it more like "this can't be happening", desperate and unwilling to accept Link's impending death.

Julia Casper's (Zelda's German VA) voice acting is also phenomenal here. You can hear a little sob when she says this line, and it really conveys her despair.

Translation: Please, don't die... English localization: You're going to be just fine...

Again, same phrasing as before, only that this time Zelda is explicitly begging Link not to die in the German line. I think it's both impressive and authentic that they used the same line three times, but each time with a different connotation. Zelda is completely exhausted and stressed in this scene, so she wouldn't have time or energy to think about how she expresses everything she wants to, so she just repeats the same core thought over and over: she doesn't want Link to die.

In the English version, she seemingly tries to calm Link instead. While on its own, I do like this line (especially as a Zelink shipper!), I do not like it in the context of this scene.

Remember how I said I was going to come back to Zelda seemingly not understanding the severety of the situation or being in denial about it earlier? Yeah, this is where the scene becomes... Weird to me in English. See, we never see her realize that actually, things do not look well, and no matter if you're going with the not understanding interpretation or the denial one, this causes a break in the narrative for me. Her view on their situation seems to change in-between lines, without an actual indicator of the change. It very much comes off as unnatural to me, especially with what happens next.

No text here, just sobbing. I wanted to note this because Julia Casper's voice acting in this particular bit of the scene sounds like she is actually crying. You can hear her sob and whimper (the really quiet one she does right after Link falls unconscious always gets me the most), and it's absolutely heartbreaking. It actually had me cry too every time I saw this scene in my playthroughs of Breath of the Wild.

Translation: There... Is still hope?! English Localization: The sword...

Julia Casper makes this line (and the next one) sound like Zelda is still processing things once more, and I think it is very fitting.

Translation: Link can... Be saved? English Translation: So he can... He can still be saved?

I do like how this line and the previous one feel completely different in German and in English contentwise.

While the implication in English seems to be - at least in my opinion - that Zelda sees that the sword is still glowing, and comes to the conclusion that Link can still be saved by herself.

Meanwhile, in German the implication seems to be more that the sword tells her that Link can be saved, and she somewhat confirms this in her conversation with the Great Deku Tree later.

Translation: Princess! English Localization: Princess!

... I do not like this line. It sounds like they're playing hide and seek, not like they just found the princess who has probably gone missing in all the chaos and who probably a lot of people were worried for. In both German and English (it actually does sound a little bit better in English IMO). Kinda disturbs the scene a bit.

I do like that they actually have Zelda gasp in response to this though.

Translation: Princess! Are you alright? English Localization: Princess! Are you all right?

Yeah, that line is better.

Also, look, Zelda still has her hand on Link's chest 🥺

Translation: I have an important mission for you! English Localization: Take Link to the Shrine of Resurrection!

Zelda sounds suddenly really confident and serious with this line in both languages. My guess is that it's because she knows that if she doesn't act, then Link will die, but also because she has trouble opening up. We learn this from her diary, and we know from both that and from other memories that she feels comfortable to show her true feelings and worries around Link (who is unconscious).

Translation: Take this man to the Shrine of Life as fast as possible! English Localization: If you don't get him there immediately, we are going to lose him forever!

The Shrine of Ressurrection is called the Shrine of Life in German, possibly because the localizers thought that Schrein der Wiederbelebung or Schrein der Auferstehung sounds too complicated or too much like Link is a zombie now.

Also, Zelda calls Link a man in the German dub at this point, which actually caught me by surprise when I first played the game since Link just looks so young. I guess it's a reminder that they are already around 17 in this game, and that Link is a full-fledged knight. I also think it shows respect for Link on Zelda's part.

I actually prefer the German version of this line, simply because I think it works better in tandem with the shot we're shown. The delivery of the English line is great too though (and I say this as someone who usually doesn't like Zelda's English voiceacting that much).

Also, look how Zelda is supporting Link's head 🥺

Translation: Hurry! English Localization: Is that clear?

Two different lines here, but I think both work. I also like that we get to see the reaction of the two Sheikah guys.

Translation: Before his light of life... English Localization: So make haste and go!

Lebenslicht (Light of Life) is a more poetic way to say someone's life in German. It's not the same as light of someone's life.

Translation: ... goes out for all times! English Localization: His life is now in your hands!

Using the plural of the word time like this is actually quite common (even though using the singular wouldn't be incorrect), and I will admit that I have never really thought about why we do this before. I think in this particular case, it might be to emphasize the gravity of the situation, but this might be interesting to look into in general.

That being said, I actually prefer the English line over the German one here. I think it just provides the better ending to an overall very grave, very serious scene, that's pretty much the direct leadup to Link waking up at the beginning of the game.

In general, I think this is definitely one of the most impactful scenes in Breath of the Wild, and both the English and the German version do a great job at conveying this. The camera also works with the localizations (more or less) to improve its impact. Overall, analyzing it was very interesting.

What are your thoughts on this scene? Tell me in the comments, reblogs or tags if you want to 🙂 Thank you for reading!

#Meta #Zelda #Link #Zelink #Analysis #The Legend of Zelda #LoZ #LoZ Meta #LoZ Analysis #Breath of the Wild #BotW #BotW Meta #BotW Analysis #Localization #English #German #BotW Localization #LoZ Localization #Zelda's Awakening #Currantlee here #Currantlee translating #Currantlee analyzing

[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 96: There's No Place Like Home

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 11 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: language, violence ❧ Word Count: 5.6k

❧ In This Chapter: You've finally returned to Alexandria, but it isn't all sunshine and rainbows. The Commonwealth has taken over, and it will take some sweat, blood, and tears to get it back. Emphasis on the blood.

❧ A/N: Happy New Year! And man, we don't have very many chapters of this series left... I am hoping it will end at Chapter 100 (nice, satisfying number), but we will see how well that works out. I am hoping to also include some sm*t before the end... Just for old time's sake. Lots of exciting stuff coming up. By the way, please ignore the fact that in the show, it is snowing during the windmill scene. Idk what the writers were thinking, but they clearly fucked up the timeline because in the show, there is a Halloween event (which is obviously in October), and then it cuts to 6 months later, so there's a six month time jump, and that means that all this should technically be happening in APRIL, and it doesn't snow in April so I am just imagining it's April for my own sanity ok? And because I want Wes to be an Aries thanks.

You had watched through Daryl’s binoculars, sitting idly by as Negan struggled against the Commonwealth soldiers that tackled him. You were home now, on the outskirts of Alexandria, but security was high, and brutal. 

You didn’t much care for Negan getting beaten, you had to admit. Some old wounds would never heal, and as much as you tried to reserve sympathy for him, it was difficult. What worried you, however, was Ezekiel, Nabila, Princess, Kelly, Connie, Magna, even Negan’s wife, Annie. What worried you most, of course, were the children. 

The town had been turned into what you could only describe as a labor camp, with a redheaded man in a dark grey coat barking orders to exhausted workers as soldiers stood by menacingly with their rifles in hand. You didn’t see the children. Wherever they were, it couldn’t be much better than this. 

You and Daryl met back up with the others, further outside the walls, where you couldn’t be seen by the guards. 

Maggie was disturbed by the news, and even more disturbed to hear that the children were nowhere to be seen from yours and Daryl’s vantage point. “But they have to be there, right?” 

You met her gaze, releasing a heavy sigh. You were about to speak before Rosita spoke for you. “Okay, we need to go in now.”

“We can’t,” replied Daryl. “There’s too many guards. We’ll never make it.”

“So, she turned our home into a prison,” said Gabriel. “After promising to give it back.”

“She never planned to give it back,” said Maggie. 

“Wait,” you said, an idea suddenly coming to you. “The sewers, we can go in through the sewers, right?” You lifted your gaze to meet Daryl’s, who seemed to follow your line of thinking. “Like before, when the Saviors attacked. You escaped through the sewers.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Good idea. You and me, down shit tunnel.”

How romantic. 

The group split, with Maggie and Carol taking the south sewer, you and Daryl taking the north. Gabriel and Rosita stayed on lookout outside the walls, much to Rosita’s dismay. You understood that—she wanted to get to her baby as soon as possible, so did you. 

So you told her that if you got to the kids first, you’d be sure to check in on Coco, to make sure she was safe and healthy. It wasn’t much, but it was all you could do. 

Daryl climbed down first, shining his flashlight down on the tunnel floor. It always made you nervous, watching him go first into dangerous situations. Still, he always insisted.

“Be careful!” you whisper-yelled down to him, yourself shining your own light on his hands as they moved down the rungs of the ladder. “Watch out for walkers.” As much as you trusted Daryl to be smart, you were always going to worry about him a little too much. 

“Shh!” He held his finger over his pursed lips, then let go of the last rung to drop feet first on the ground. He held up his hands to beckon you. “C’mon!” he whisper-yelled back. “Ain’t got all day.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned to climb down. “What’s it like down there?”

“Smells like shit.”

You stepped on the fifth rung down, now catching a whiff of said shit. “Besides that.”

“Dark and wet.”

You gave up asking by the time you got down, but now you could see it for yourself. Indeed, it was dark, wet, and it did smell like shit. 

“This way,” said Daryl, pointing towards the beam of the flashlight that illuminated the tunnel. l. “I’ll go first, stay behind me.” 

You ignored him, walking alongside him instead. 

He huffed, shining his light just below your face. “You never listen ta me,” he said. 

You tilted your head and made a sour face. “And you always baby me.”

“Pfft…” Well, he wasn’t going to deny it. He did baby you, but it was for a good cause. “Jus’ be careful.”

The two of you silently stalked the length of the tunnel for a while, until you stumbled upon an overgrown maze of leafy vines hanging from the sewer grate just overhead. Entangled in those vines was a walker, flailing its arms and growling as the two of you approached with your flashlights trained on its rotting face. 

“How the hell did it get down here?” you asked. 

Daryl spared no time, bending over to begin clearing out the overgrowth with a series of grunts. You followed his lead to help make a path. “Musta found its way in ‘ere somehow. Got all tangled up.”

The walker’s sounds got louder the closer Daryl got, until his knife plunged into its head, ending its growling and flailing. He shined his light further, making sure that was the only one. “S’all clear now,” he said. “Come on, this way.”

You trudged through the brush, grabbing Daryl’s hand when he lent it to you. The path was still not quite stable, though, and a wrong step between the branches caught the toe of your boot, causing you to stumble. 

Daryl’s grasp tightened, with his other hand grabbing your other wrist to keep you steady. You didn’t fall, but you stumbled enough for a flash of white to cascade from your coat pocket. All you had in there was your photo, as you always kept at least one with you. 

“Oh, no.” 

You turned to frantically search through the leaves, while Daryl looked on in confusion as he held his flashlight with the beam concentrated on your hands. “What is it?”

“Nothing, just…” You found the polaroid nestled among a few leaves, and you sighed in relief. “Thank God.”

You turned the photograph over in your hands, revealing the face of your daughter. She smiled wide, with Dog posed beside her as her arm wrapped around his neck. That photo was an older one, taken a few summers ago. Robin wore her favorite white linen overalls, decorated with daisies lovingly embroidered by you, and her floppy brown gardening hat. Even Dog sported a yellow bandana tied loosely around his neck, with his tongue hanging out to the side as his mouth humorously curled into a wide grin. 

Robin’s eyes looked so blue here, like two little sapphires shining between caramel colored bangs that hung a little too low on her forehead. You remembered trimming them not too long after you took that photo. 

You slathered her exposed skin in sunblock that day, making sure she didn’t get any burns. Her skin was sensitive, like yours. She burnt easily, but when she rubbed her eyes that day, the sunblock seeped in, irritating her. She came up to Daryl crying, her fists balled up in her eyes as she rubbed them in an attempt to get the sunblock out. You were bringing out the lemonade, and Daryl dropped his hot dogs to see what was wrong with the little girl. The poor thing sobbed so much she couldn’t make out any words, and you came out onto the front porch to see Daryl in a parental panic, Robin bawling her eyes out, and Dog feasting on sausages. 

At least you had gotten that photograph before all Hell broke loose. You had managed to get your two children to sit upon the porch of your home in Alexandria, taking a break from playing in the unforgiving midsummer heat of Virginia. It was nothing compared to Georgia, Daryl always reminded you, but it was all Robin had ever known, until you left. 

We never should’ve left. 

“Hon?”

You sniffled, holding back a few tears. After all these years, you still couldn’t stop yourself from crying. Everyone else had gotten so good at it, it seemed. Sometimes, you wondered if you had gotten even more sensitive. 

“It’s… I forgot I put this in my pocket.” You chuckled slightly under your breath, just now noticing how filthy Dog’s paws were from digging holes and trying to catch gophers. “Sorry.”

You reached down to return the photograph to its home, but Daryl’s hand stopped you, gently holding your wrist. “Let me see.”

With another sniffle, you held it out to him, and he took it in his own hands. “She was so little,” he said, his lips quirking into the slightest crooked smile. “Even Dog looks younger.”

“They’re precious,” you said, your voice beginning to falter. “I wish… I wish I’d taken one of Wes before we left.”

He looked up to study your face, now with one tear running down your cheek. You quickly brushed it away, sniffling again. 

“We should keep going,” you said. 

“Wait a sec.”

Odd. Daryl was usually the impatient one of the two of you, and though neither of you wanted to spend more time in this stinking hole, Daryl couldn’t go on with you like this. He didn’t have to ask. He knew what it was.

“We’ll find ‘em,” he said. “We will.” As he held out the photograph to hand it back to you, he cupped your hand over his, as if Robin’s portrait was protected by both of you. Well, it was. She was, so was Wes. 

“H-how do you know?”

His eyes softened in the way they only could for you, his angel. “I just do.” He let your hand go, so you tucked your photo back into your pocket. When your eyes looked back up at him, he rested a hand on the spot where your neck met your shoulder. His thumb reached up to rub your cheek, where his touch warmed you. 

“Dad instincts,” he added with a smile, much to your amusement. A small chuckle erupted from you, but it was bittersweet. 

“You’re such a good dad.”

He could feel himself beginning to choke up, your emotions and your words overwhelming him, too. The empathy link between you and him was always strong, to the point that your hurt was his hurt, and vice versa. Not only that, but he was terrified, too. Still, one of you had to be strong for the other now. 

“And you’re a great mom.”

“No,” you said, though you leaned into his touch. “I tried… I tried not to let them take them away.” Guilt washed over you then, and he could feel it, like it was flowing from your body into his from the point where his hand touched your cheek. 

He pulled you in, against his body. His arms formed a protective barrier around you, as they always did. His pride was in keeping you safe, like you were entrusted to him forever. It was a great responsibility to protect the most precious thing in the world, to love her and make her happy as much as he could, but he was never one to give up easily. Besides, loving you was easy. It came naturally to him. 

“I know.” He let his chin rest upon your head, while his hands smoothed over the ripples in your coat on your back. “I know you wouldn’t just let ‘em get taken. You did what ya could.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“Hey, I lost the kids, too. They jumped us. Hell, you just had a baby. You weren’t in any condition to fight back, you know that.”

He pulled back, but you still looked down. His hand came up to hold your chin, lifting it until you were forced to face him. Your eyes were weighed down by tears tugging at your waterline, threatening to trickle down your reddened cheeks. Your lips quivered slightly as you tried to hold it together, for him. He was always so strong for you, you had to try to be strong for him, too, even if he had strength for the both of you.

“If we… lose them—”

“Stop it.”

“But we could—”

“No.” Both hands held your cheeks again, this time with more pressure. Not too much, but just enough to let you know he was serious. “Listen to me. There ain’t no damn use in thinkin’ about what might happen or what might be happenin’. All we gotta think about right now is how we’re gonna find ‘em, and what we gotta do to find ‘em. I know you ain’t ever gonna stop worryin’, ‘cause that’s just who you are, and I love you, but you gotta trust me.”

You gotta trust me stuck with you.

“I trust you… Do you trust me?”

“You know I do, angel.”

You held him back, squeezing him as hard as you could, like a human stress ball. “I love you, Daryl Dixon.”

He took advantage of the space where your neck was exposed to leave a small kiss there. “I love you, too… And when all this is over, I’m takin’ you somewhere nice.”

You turned to face him with a weak chuckle as you wiped away the last of your tears. “What?”

“Like a vacation.”

Sometimes, Daryl surprised you. It was a rare occurrence, since Daryl was always rather predictable, which you liked, but there were times like these where his impulsiveness would come out, perhaps just to distract you momentarily from your worries. He knew exactly how to do so. 

“A vacation?” you asked. “There’s no such thing. You used to say that vacations were impossible now.”

“Yeah, but… What if we just get on the bike and go? Ain’t gotta be far, just a little ways away, just you and me.”

You shook your head in playful dismay. “Daryl Dixon,” you said, “you seem to be forgetting that we have no less than four children we are currently responsible for, two of which are our children, one of which is a baby.”

“Well, we wouldn’t be gone long… And we could wait till Wes is older, when everythin’ calms down. Maybe things will be better again, like they were before.” He studied his surroundings, the dark tunnel in which you were standing, which wreaked of putrid musk. “Now let's get outta this shithole, and get our kids back.”

By the time you raised the sewer grate, stepping out clandestinely inside the walls of Alexandria, it was dark. With only two flashlights to lead the way, you immediately recognized where you were. It was the middle of Morgan Street, your street. 

It was empty, though, too empty for comfort. 

“Where is everybody?” you whispered. “The guards…” You trailed off as the beam of light you held in your hand illuminated a distant house, its windows dark inside and the familiar rose bushes you had once kept so meticulously pruned were gone, ripped from the recently tilled dirt that once housed their roots. “Daryl.”

He turned to follow your eye line, and sadness welled within him like a tidal wave. The house was repaired to some extent, but it looked so different now. It looked dreary, empty. The home he’d made with you was no longer boisterous and full of life. 

He could still hear the patter of Robin’s little feet upon the hardwood floor as Dog chased her. 

He could still smell your potpourri experiments, cloves and oranges and magnolias and lavender and rose and whatever else you could get your hands on. 

He could still feel your weight leaning into his chest as he held you, sitting upon the couch as a roaring fire crackled in the fireplace, keeping you both warm into the wee hours of the morning, when he’d more often than not carry you upstairs to your bed. 

He could still remember watching Robin help Lydia with her homework, the girls’ hushed voices concentrating on their assignments as you looked on proudly.

So many memories in that house, so many voices had been carried in its walls. Voices of people long past… Old friends no longer here to see what this place has become, for better or for worse. 

What was once home was now just some house. 

Wordless sadness floated aimlessly between the two of you, but sadness didn’t get things done. Persistence did, and you were both persistent in your search for the children.

You didn’t have to slink around long before you saw it—in the center of town, just in front of the windmill, a small army of Commonwealth guards had gathered, along with what seemed to be all the prisoners. From the looks of things, they’d been woken up, taken by force to the square. 

Unfamiliar light posts had sprouted on either sides of the crops, spewing harsh, cold lights to illuminate the scene. The place was grey, sterile, a far cry from your memories. Alexandria had once been a bright, colorful place. It had once been a collage of eras, memories and moments in time that defined the settlement’s journey. 

There were the suburban townhouses and model homes from the old world, then the corrugated fence that kept out the dead, marking the beginning of the new world. When the fence was expanded, Alexandria grew, encompassing more land to build. Bare bones buildings put together with the most basic, yet sturdy, of materials dotted the place, giving it that craftsman charm you always admired. Nothing looked perfect, it was always built by hand, trial and error. The windmill you now gazed at was the biggest landmark. The majesty of it symbolized to you human innovation in the face of stagnation.

Now, it was covered in blood.

What shocked you more was the line of guards that stood with their guns held high, aiming to shoot at the people you knew—Ezekiel, Nabila, Princess, Magna, Connie, Kelly, Negan, Annie… 

They were making a stand. Of course they were. They were your people, and that’s what your people had always done. 

Ezekiel stood before them all, his arms outstretched in a gesture of protection. He spoke loudly, his voice reverberating in the night. “You don’t have to do this! This world is broken, but we don’t have to be!”

At the end of the firing line stood the red-haired man in the dark grey coat you’d seen earlier. He was in charge, you gathered, and he was the one who wanted your people dead. 

You noticed a movement in the firing squad, a soldier stepping out of line. The others lowered their weapons to see what was happening, as the soldier who stepped away raised his. 

He aimed for the man in charge, much to your shock. When another soldier attempted to shoot him, he shot back. 

The red-haired man scurried in a panic, grabbing poor Kelly as he held a pistol to her head, walking backwards as if to eventually make a run for it. 

“No!” shouted Magna. “Kelly! Kelly!”

The others held her back, as there wasn’t much to be done. If she moved, he’d kill Kelly. Luckily for you, you were behind him, wrapped around the other side of the windmill, and he was only inching closer. 

Daryl moved faster than you this time, procuring his knife as he moved past you, towards the man as he backed up into the darkness in which you were hiding. You were right behind him, your knife drawn, too, just in case.

You didn’t need it, of course. Daryl always aimed just right, plunging the blade into the base of the man’s neck where his spinal cord met his brain. He did it so coolly, with no emotion behind his eyes. You always knew that something shifted whenever Daryl went into that mode—he’d turn off his feelings for a split second, turn off any parts of him that might object to murder. What prevailed in those moments was his sense of justice, revenge, and order. If there was anything Daryl could do, it was kill.

Silence strangled out all the sounds of panic that began to fade. The man fell immediately after Daryl’s stab, no doubt losing all ability for his head to control his body. Kelly was embraced by her sister, and now you both stood before the others in a bittersweet reunion. 

Out in the crowd of other prisoners, there was no objection to the end of the tyrant’s rule. Even the other guards stood down, seemingly returning Alexandria to the people. 

But the taskmaster hadn’t been killed, not yet. Daryl had only paralyzed him, and he was on his way out, but he was still alive. Negan came forward, picking up the man by his jacket collar and dragging him out towards the crowd. He picked up a rock large enough to hold with two hands, and just before he struck him with the final blow to end the man’s misery, a voice called out.

“Negan!” Rosita burst forward as Gabriel flipped the man till he was facing up. “Don’t kill him!” she shouted. 

“Where’s my daughter?” She leaned over the man, grasping his collar as she yelled, “Where is she?!”

There was an unmistakable quiver in her voice, a kind of desperation and rage that only a mother looking for her child could have. He didn’t answer, not that you heard from the distance you stood, anyway. 

What you did hear, though, was the unmistakable wheezing and growling of a walker. Your head pivoted like a finely tuned machine, your hand instinctively grasping for the handle of your knife. The soldier that had been shot had turned, and the walker was slowly but surely rising to his feet. 

Rosita was faster, though. She tugged on the walker’s uniform, pulling him towards the nearly lifeless man’s body with a wild groan. 

She held the snapping, starving walker to the man’s face, shouting again, “Where the hell is she?! Tell me where she is!”

You could only look on, somewhere between understanding and horror. It sent a shiver down your spine—she hadn’t been able to find Coco, what if Robin and Wes weren’t there either?

Frozen in your fear, you only heard the red-haired man faintly say one phrase to Rosita. “You will lose everything.”

Just then, she dropped the walker, letting its teeth sink into the man’s face. “No! No! Ahh!”

Before you looked away, you saw the bright red flesh tearing away as the walker dined on his eye socket. No one made a move, not wanting to disturb the creature’s feast. It would have to be put down, but not only the man was made to suffer. 

You didn’t care now, though. With the man still screaming, you turned swiftly, only your children’s safety on your mind. 

“(Y/N)!” Daryl followed after you, his breath heavy as he tried to keep up.

“Not my babies,” was all you could reply, panting as you ran towards the nearest house, ready to raid each and every one. 

The townhouse you chose to search first looked lived-in with candlelight glowing in the window of the second floor. You hurried up the steps of the porch, knife drawn and ready to kill if anyone got between you and the children. 

Of course, Daryl tried to go in front of you, but, in an unusual display of roughness, you pushed him away with more force than he’d ever known you to have. You looked at him with wild, electric eyes, your hair falling out of your hat in an untamed mess. You didn’t have to say anything, he knew what you meant to say: I’m fucking going first. 

So you did, kicking open the front door with a grand crash. It was a far cry from your usual more subtle, quiet approach, but there wasn’t going to be any stopping you now. The soldier that almost immediately greeted you was caught off guard when your knife slit his forearm where the armor wasn’t covering. It caused him to drop his gun while you slit his thigh, sending him writhing in pain on the floor. 

It happened so fast that you lost conscious thought of the things you were doing, but Daryl watched your every move, making sure you didn’t make a wrong move. You quickly armed yourself with the soldier’s gun, wielding it as you inspected each room on the first floor, each empty. 

You huffed, blowing a stray strand of hair away from your face. Then, you heard what sounded like muffled, higher-pitched voices coming from the floor above. They were children’s voices, you knew that for sure. 

As you ran through the hallway, jumping over the writhing soldier to flee up the stairs, you began to hear the wailing of a baby. Warm tears flooded your vision, but you were steadfast in your search. You used your back to throw the first door open, holding the gun ready. 

When you laid your determined eyes on an eleven-year-old girl with long brown hair, they softened immediately. 

“Aunt (Y/N)!” Judith ran to you across the room. Her arms outstretched to hug you, so you dropped the gun and leaned down to receive her. 

You peered over her shoulder to see more familiar children—Nabila and Jerry’s kids, whose names you admittedly lost track of at times, were among them, with more you recognized from the Commonwealth. And, of course, RJ was in Daryl’s arms, but the reunion couldn’t last too long—Robin and Wes weren’t here, and the crying had stopped. 

“Judith,” you said, both sternly and with a tremble in your voice. “Where’s Robin and the baby?”

The crying began again, coming distinctly from across the hall. This time, Daryl moved first, knife drawn to slam through the door of the room where the crying came from. 

You followed behind, peering over his shoulder to see light brown-haired girl, cowering in the corner of the room and facing the wall, rocking back and forth with a bundle of something in her arms. You knew the back of her head anywhere, the shape of her little body. Her hair was tied in a low half-ponytail, and her knitted sweater of seafoam green was unquestionably the garment of your daughter. 

“Robin!” Daryl shouted out. 

She turned immediately, her face red and puffy from crying. Westley, bundled up in a sloppy swaddle, flailed his limbs and wailed in her arms. She must’ve been trying to keep him quiet, having heard the scary noises downstairs. 

“Daddy?!” she called out in confusion. “Mama!”

She lifted herself to her feet, still clinging to her infant brother, as you came forward, arms ready to snatch her up and never let her go. 

You couldn’t form words as you held her and the baby, all you could was cry tears of joy and relief. But, out of fear of squishing Wes, you loosened your hold on the child for a moment to delicately take the infant into your embrace. 

“He won’t stop cryin’,” she said with a sniffle of her own. “I was so scared, I thought…”

Daryl leaned down to hold her, and she lost of train of thought when she plummeted her head between his neck and shoulder. “S’all right,” he said quietly, his strong, warm hands gently rubbing her back. “Everythin’s all right now, birdie.”

Westley’s crying calmed intermittently as you rocked him, but he was hungry, and neglected. 

When Daryl left momentarily to touch base with the others, you stayed behind with the children. Maggie and Carol met up with you in that townhouse, where they’d brought Hershel, Gracie, and some more children that they’d found being held in one of the other houses. It was the biggest children’s sleepover you’d ever seen, though it was still a rather solemn night. 

Coco was still nowhere to be found, and a few other babies belonging to some of the Commonwealth prisoners weren’t there, either. It chilled you to the bone, and you wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. 

Daryl wouldn’t, either. He instead helped draw up a plan of attack with some of the others, planning on returning to the Commonwealth first thing come sunrise. They were going to get the rest of the children back, and they were going to take down Pamela for what she’d done, or tried to do. 

Though it would’ve been a great historical moment to witness, you stayed in the townhouse to help watch over the children, and to nurse Wes. Even Dog, who’d been chained up outside the house, seemed starved of attention, so you brought him in, and he welcomed you with a myriad of slobbery kisses.

It wasn’t until almost sunrise when Maggie paid you a visit, knocking gently on the door to the bedroom you’d planted yourself in. 

You smiled up at her, folding your blanket over Westley as he nursed. Robin laid next to you, her head using your belly as a pillow. She was curled up, tucking her legs into her chest as she slept soundly, small, dainty snores and little wispy breaths filling the air. As he slept on the foot of the bed, Dog’s snores helped create a strange little symphony. 

Maggie smiled back at you. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know—”

“No, no,” you replied quietly. “You can come in… She’s a heavy sleeper.” You looked down at the sleepy baby, his heavy little eyes trying to stay open as he fed from your breast. “Oh, um… If it makes you uncomfortable, I can—”

“I’ve seen your tits before, (Y/N).”

Oh. 

You’d almost forgotten about that. When you live on the road with someone for so long, and in tight quarters at a place like the prison, you get to know everyone a lot more intimately. In other words, Maggie walked in on you changing or bathing more than once. 

“Right,” you laughed under your breath. “Come in, sit down.”

You gestured loosely to the armchair in the corner of the room. It sat beside of a small bedside table, upon which was a gas lamp that gave off a warm, dim glow in the dark morning mist. 

“I don’t think I got to properly meet this little one,” she said. “Westley?”

“Mhm… We’ve been calling him Wes for short. Well, Daryl likes to call him scout.” 

Maggie smiled, and sometimes you forgot just how beautiful and sweet her smile was. It could light up every room, you didn’t even need that old oil lamp. “That’s cute. Wes lucked out. He was born into a pretty great family.”

“Mm, a big family. So many aunts and uncles… I think Aunt Maggie is going to be a favorite, though.”

She shook her head. “Think Aunt Carol’s got that distinction, least with Robin.”

You reached a hand down to lightly caress Robin’s shoulder over the fleece blanket that Daryl had draped over her before he left. “Give it time,” you said. “Soon you’ll be her hero, I just know it.” You paused to adjust Westley, moving him to the other breast as carefully as you could so not to disturb Robin. “How’s Hershel?”

“He’s all right,” she sighed with a nod. “Sleepin’ like a baby. All of them are. Don’t think they got much sleep since they were taken.”

You didn’t think anyone would get much sleep until all this was over. You knew you wouldn’t. “Poor things. They’ve been through a lot.” You looked down at Wes, who’d now fully fallen asleep in your arms. You smiled and gently maneuvered him so you could button up your blouse. “He was so hungry.”

Maggie nodded solemnly, her serious side coming through again. “They’ll pay,” she said, even more quietly, just in case Robin or the other children stirred in their sleep. “For everything.”

“Maggie,” you said, “you were right not to trust them… I should’ve been more skeptical, I just—”

“You were doing what was best for your family,” she interrupted. “For Robin and the baby. You were thinking about them. Any mom would’ve done it.”

You looked confused, and you were. Wasn’t Maggie a mom too? “But you didn’t.”

“I was just doin’ what I thought was the best thing to do,” she said. “Now here we are, in the exact same place.”

“We’re home,” you said. “Did you ever think… when we came here, all those years ago, that we’d be here right now?”

“No,” she replied with a grin. “It’s so surreal. I—I remember how… how excited Glenn was.”

You remembered it, too. Glenn was one of the first people in your group to want Alexandria to be your home. He believed in it. He was the spark of humanity, reminding you all that you could no longer live on the road, always on the brink of starving and never able to turn your back. He wanted you all to have a home.

Alexandria had been through so much. So many people and so many things had been lost, but what always remained was Alexandria. 

“This place is special,” you said. “Glenn saw that.”

“He did… I miss him everyday.”

You untucked a hand from underneath the baby, who stirred a little, but soon settled back into sleep once your hand outstretched to hold Maggie’s. “We all do. He’d be so proud of you, and everything you’ve done.”

She sniffled as she bowed her head, nodding all the while. “You know, you’ve always been my best friend.”

Your face melted into touched surprise. It’d been years since she’d told you that. “You’re my best friend, too… We’ve come a long way since the farm, huh?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “When you asked Glenn for…” She leaned in closer, whispering even lower. “Condoms.”

“Shh!” you laughed. 

“Coulda used a few more, huh?” She nodded her head towards the baby in your arms, and you nudged her with her elbow, shaking your head. You couldn’t help but smile, though. 

“Shut up.”

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

#daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus #the beginning series #theteasetwrites series #theteasetwrites fanfiction

[cadybear420]

Cadybear's Reviews- Surrender

Ohhh yeah, bitches. It's time for a JUICY review. My first review of a PooPoo Tier book. Just a heads up, this one is gonna get VERY salty.

Welcome to the thirty-fourth official Cadybear's Reviews! Today I'll be talking about Surrender, which I have ranked on the "PooPoo Tier" at 1 star out of a possible 10. My last and only playthrough of this was around February-June 2022 (for the first book) and October 2023 (for the second book).

Holy crap, this series is awful. Like, actually the worst of the whole app, in my opinion. 

It shot itself in the foot from the very start– you can’t have MC be trying to escape a toxic marriage, but have her new endgame love interest be just as bad if not worse than the ex spouse. Reagan literally talks to her as if she’s already their sub from day fucking one. And even worse, MC wants to be Reagan’s sub barely even a few chapters later, so it can almost be read as if Reagan coerced her into BDSM. 

And there was literally no reason to default MC to being a sub here. Okay, I guess it technically does set up the plot for Book 2 where Reagan is refusing to give up control, but saying it doesn’t make sense for the MC to not wanna dom at first is kinda bullshit. The writers say in their blog post about Surrender 1 that “It wouldn’t make sense for her to dom right away”, yet they’re okay with making her sub right away? Other than Reagan basically coercing her into the sub role, there’s nothing given about MC’s character that suggests she couldn’t have had interest in the dom role (or both, as a switch role) at first. 

Truth be told, I’d have much preferred if they let MC have options to try either of the roles and let the player build up her role as sub, dom, switch, sub-leaning, dom-leaning, etc. Especially since MC is supposed to be A) new to BDSM and B) freshly divorced after seeing her toxic spouse cheat on her. So let her take the time to explore and try out what she likes. That would be far more believable for the story and a far more immersive experience for the players. I get that said options wouldn’t have allowed for the arc of Reagan learning to give up some control, but surely they still could have done something creative for a more choice-based system. 

Book 2 does have us start to try a more dominant role, but it’s honestly meaningless. Because all that book does is, it doubles down on how toxic of a partner Reagan is. 

Yes, I know they do give some context for Reagan having control issues with their parents’ own abusive relationship, but as someone who has been in a fairly similar situation, it’s handled horribly. Their behaviors feel like they’re treated more as just an inconvenience or a minor hiccup, rather than genuinely toxic and abusive behaviors. 

Like, here’s all the shit Reagan does in Book 2. They go behind MC’s back to pull strings for her to get that job but then deliberately convinces her that she got it all on her own, constantly acts incredibly infantilizing to her, tries to enforce BDSM-style rules outside of the bedroom to the point where they straight up forbid her from doing a part of her own job, and– probably the worst of them all– literally tells MC “when a woman agrees to be my sub, she agrees to obey”. Honest to God, just that line right there was enough to put this series on my permanent Choices shitlist. 

And funnily enough, the series just almost got a chance to avoid it! After that awful line, MC finally gets some self-respect and dumps Reagan over their controlling behavior, and for a few chapters she has a big girls’ getaway trip with Malorie and (optionally) Reese (funnily enough the next book to be released after Surrender 2 is Getaway Girls). And let me tell you they’re the best chapters of this series and I enjoyed it to the max. It was the only part of the book I was willing to spend diamonds on. 

Now, had MC left Reagan for good– or at least had a proper talk with Reagan– then I might move this series up a view tiers. Unfortunately, it’s all downhill from there. 

Reagan refuses to take accountability for MC leaving them, and then proceeds to make Anderson track MC down on her trip when they learn she might be taking a job in Seattle. Holy fuck PB, Reagan is literally just Pat Ransic 2.0. In fact, I think they’re much worse actually. 

And what makes it all tragic is that the ending, in theory, could have worked. Reagan does apologize, they do talk things out, Reagan does become more willing to give up control, and we are allowed to choose if we want to be dom, sub, or switch. 

It seems all well and good, except for one little problem: it doesn’t feel earned in the slightest, especially not when the two become engaged at the end of the book (the one time MC is the one who proposes to LI, and it’s in the shittiest Choices book that ever smelled like shit), barely even a chapter after their conversation. Which, by the way, only happened because Reagan tracked MC down on her getaway trip to Vegas. It’s rushed as all hell, and that’s putting it lightly. 

Not only that, but even though Reagan’s behaviors are addressed (or rather, lampshaded), it’s only part of the problem. Grant and Ray’s relationship, the relationship that the writers try to parallel with Reagan and MC’s relationship and that Reagan used to justify going back to MC, was a seemingly healthy relationship where they had struggles making things work, but they weren’t toxic. 

Reagan and MC’s relationship is straight up toxic from the start– again, they acted incredibly predatory towards MC on the very day they met, and their relationship has been filled with nothing but toxicity. And MC fails to realize this, even when calling out Reagan– which is why I don’t think the story really treats the full situation with enough seriousness. The story doesn’t just shoot itself in the foot– it shoots itself in both of its legs AND its free arm, so many times that it’s too late to even amputate them because it’s already died from bleeding out so goddamn much (I know that sounds pretty extreme, but you get the idea). 

Also, to add acid to all of the many wounds, this series was the perfect opportunity to let us have a pegging scene. But outside of one scene in Book 2 where you can mention MC wanting to use a strap-on, we don’t seem to get that. Oh, but they’re perfectly fine with writing Reagan blowing on MC’s cooch despite that that’s a huge risk for an air embolism which is potentially lethal. (Granted someone did say MC can use anal beads on Reagan in the finale scene if you choose MC to be a dom; but I played that scene, after having chosen MC to be dom, and uh… there was no option). 

You know what though, this series isn’t good enough to have pegging anyways. The only pegging Reagan deserves is a pegging in the face with a fucking hammer. 

Fuck this series. What a waste of potential.

#choices stories you play #choices #choices game #choices stories we play fandom #choices stories we play #surrender 2 #surrender #choices surrender #anti surrender #fuck surrender #choices sr 2 #choices sr #sr #cadybear's reviews