#which i did not end up having time to finish in time
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the longer i look at this panel the more deranged i feel about it. this is environmental storytelling at its finest.
the eodio stand-in doll in particular makes me crazy. where did it come from? did thistle just pop into the village like "hey ungrateful wretches, one of you needs to make me a life-sized mannequin, For Reasons". did he make it himself? seems quite unlikely, yet the possibility haunts me. i mean, i guess there could've been one just lying around the dungeon somewhere. it's the act of replacement itself that really gets to me. (edit: it's been pointed out to me that the eodio doll also could have been left behind as part of delgal's escape plan. slightly different kind of madness but tbh, just as funny-sad to me if that happened and thistle went Ok, Guess That's Eodio Now.)
both the wives are there too. we know very little about them, which makes me tend to assume thistle wasn't all that close to them, but they're still included. when did they end up here? did he kick their souls out of their bodies at some point, or were they among those who left their bodies voluntarily to try and escape? when did yaad become an effective orphan, delgal an effective widower? women in the margins of the narrative, tell me your stories!
and the fact that they're surrounded with the living paintings, which thistle habitually wanders through to relive the past. this truly is his inner sanctum, his place of utmost comfort... and it may as well be a tomb.
that panel is so creepy when you first see it. just a sense of "ohh jeez, there's a lot to unpack there".
and actually, yeah, it remains creepy from pretty much any angle, but the more you think about it the more it's also tragic.
this is where many of thistle's happiest moments took place. everything he had in that picture is now gone. first he lost their warm regard, then one-by-one their bodies became hollow shells. before the end, none of the people here needed or enjoyed food anymore. the dinner table, as a center of both family life and nutrition, became obsolete.
a line from someone else's excellent post about thistle has stuck in my head ever since i read it: "to eat is to live, but to eat together is to be loved". to me, this is the sentiment and symbolism at the core of everything that happens in dungeon meshi.
it makes this bit all the sadder and more disturbing.
there's several things to note here:
thistle has gone from seated and eating with them as part of the family, to a lonely and ominous figure hovering over delgal's shoulder
eodio is conspicuously absent from view, and his body would have been a husk by now, but yaad says parents, which forces me to assume that they are sitting at the table with eodio's soulless body, hidden under yaad's speech bubble
they're not actually eating anything.
those plates are empty. you could assume that they've already finished eating, maybe, but yaad refers to it as sitting around the dinner table. in fact, he compares it to what he's currently doing; sitting at the dinner table watching the touden party eat, not eating anything himself.
it paints a pretty grim picture. for some time even after the fantasy had fallen apart, even after there was no need or desire to eat, they kept gathering around the dinner table. at that point, i'd guess only so as not to provoke thistle's wrath.
but even that last happened a long, long time ago.
this is a callback to what senshi said in the golden kingdom: the reason the people keep maintaining their fields and silverware and so forth is that they need to do so in order to stay sane.
paradoxically, the dinner table is the most striking evidence of thistle's insanity, and at the same time, it's the only anchor to sanity he has left.
he kept enforcing the ritual of dinner together long after it lost significance. when even that was impossible- because almost everyone's souls were gone- he kept their bodies at the table anyway. it's fine. it's fine! he's protected them, physically, just like he set out to. they're all still breathing. at a glance it looks like they could wake up and resume dinner at any moment. like this, it's easy to pretend.
isn't that what being a dungeon lord is, at the core of it? rejecting reality, staying in the prison of one's impossible desires. it's just one long game of pretend.
thistle did all this to protect his loved ones. no matter how obsessive and twisted he became in pursuit of that over the years, his core motivation never changed. this is all he has left of that dream: his loved ones' bodies gathered around the locus of their happiest memories together. like this, he can tell himself he's succeeded.
when eodio's body vanished with delgal's soul in it- when he couldn't even have that anymore... well.
i want to reach through the screen and shake him. no, they're not, thistle. THISTLE, NO, THEY'RE NOT! the doll of eodio is the closest thing to him in this panel, underlining the point. when that final illusion was shattered, he became completely unable to cope with reality.
therefore replacing eodio with a creepy doll and casually forgetting it isn't real.
thistle isn't stupid. eodio's body vanished at the same time as delgal's soul. shortly after, more adventurers came pouring in than ever before. deep down, he knows what happened. if he didn't, being confronted with the truth by mithrun wouldn't have made him panic so hard he summoned chimera falin to the first floor.
yet still...
he absolutely can't admit that to himself. he is clinging to the last scraps of the illusion with everything he has.
this is a dungeon lord at the end of desire. this is a lotus-eater machine left running long after its conclusion. this is mithrun lying listlessly in his bed, his replica lover having given up any pretense of being human. the illusion is all that's left. (an illusion is all it ever was.) thistle and the citizens of the golden kingdom- they're ghosts just as much as the ones who wander the dungeon floors. and if it weren't for thistle sealing the lion away, he would've been eaten by it long ago.
all of this encapsulated by that single panel of the dinner table.
#dungeon meshi#dungeon meshi spoilers#thistle#delgal#yaad#eodio#winged lion#meta#long post#aphelion.txt#dunmeshi#sorry. i am so incredibly not normal about any of it
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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]
kickoff drabble no3. gojo as a cat dad
ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader
ᰔ drabble summary. gojo tried to give you a little kitten as an apology, but you weren’t able to take it in, so he ends up becoming a cat dad. (note: for new readers, this is in continuation of my long fic gojo x reader series “kickoff”!! masterlist is linked below)
ᰔ main storyline summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.
ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)
ᰔ chapter. drabble #3
ᰔ words. 2.3k
a/n. hellooo!! this is such a silly little drabble lol, basically just gojo falling in love w a kitty. kickoff reader does make an appearance tho haha. this will be the last drabble before we move on to ch11 :) hope u enjoy!! <3
nav. masterlist
☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist
“Wait what? He’s gotta get his balls chopped off someday?”
Gojo holds the tuxedo kitten, which as of two seconds ago is now officially his and shall be named mr. grand theft auto (mr gta for short) up into the air as he examines him like he’s some novel beast.
“Yes,” Nanami affirms on the other line before releasing a deep exhale, “at around ten weeks old, you’ll have to get him neutered.”
“How do I know how old he is?” Gojo asks, twiddling his thumb back and forth to give mr gta something to chase with his paws in an attempt to distract.
“You’ll have to take the kitten to the vet,” Nanami tells him. “They’ll need to check for fleas, parasites, and give any relevant vaccinations.”
Gojo scratches the back of his head and sets mr gta down on his desk, which the Soot Sprite runs to the edge of and almost knocks over Gojo’s half-finished can of Red Bull. Gojo picks him up again, and he hears a tiny little mew squeak out.
“Did you check with Suguru or Hide or Sota if they would be fine with keeping a cat in the house?” Nanami asks.
“No.”
“That’s the first thing you should do.”
“Ehhh I’m sure they’d be fine with it,” Gojo replies before settling mr. gta into the nook of his elbow and then grabbing his keys. He pets his pocket for his wallet, and then heads out of his room, down the stairs, and outside to the driveway to get inside his car. He plops Fluff Ball onto his dashboard, and then realizes he’s still got Nanami on the line.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” he brings his phone back up to his ear, “did you say something.”
A long pause. “I’ve been giving you instructions this entire time.”
Nanami apparently had three cats growing up, it was one of the first things Gojo learned about him during some Icebreakers for Rush. But his knowledge is wasted on Gojo, who’s more keen on winging most things in life.
“Where did you find this kitten?” Nanami asks.
“In the bushes,” Gojo says as he pulls out of the driveway, “over on Main street. Took the scenic route on my run this morning.”
“And why decide to keep it?”
Gojo pulls his phone from his ear to check the directions on his phone for a brief second, a little too lazy to connect BlueTooth to his car for a seven minute drive. “Uh. Well, I tried to give it to y/n, but she didn’t want it. Er, she couldn’t have it, so, I figured I’d keep it.” He glances between his rearview mirror and mr. gta as he turns onto the street. “The little thing’s homeless and cute, so why not. Also kinda ugly, though. His fur looks like he’s been struck by lightning.”
Nanami sighs, then catches his breath briefly. “You found a dirty flea-covered kitten in the bushes and then tried to abandon it with y/n when she can’t even have it, and then abruptly decided you’ll take care of it? I would encourage some self reflection.”
Gojo gets to the closest veterinarian office he could find, mr gta in hand when he walks through the door with the jingle of a bell at the top, which his kitten becomes instantly intrigued with as it tilts its head up to the noise.
“Hi,” Gojo says as he approaches the receptionist desk, where he sees a girl probably around his age wearing bright blue scrubs sitting there at a catastrophically messy desk cluttered with pens and clipboards and certainly not enough space for the gigantic keyboard underneath the computer.
She looks up from her computer at Gojo, and blinks a few times in surprise before addressing him. Gojo wonders if she’s new to the job. “Hello! Name for the appointment?”
“Oh, I don’t have an appointment,” Gojo says, setting mr gta up on the high raised counter, and he feels the fur of his tiny tail brush against his hand before a tiny rough tongue starts to lick at his knuckle. “I found this kitten in the bushes, so I just wanted someone to take a look at him. Or her? I’m, like, 90% sure it’s a boy, but you guys are the experts.”
Crescents form under her eyes in amusement before she flutters her eyes back to the computer screen. “Sorry, we don’t take walk-ins,” she says as she busies herself with clicking sporadically across pixels that he can’t see.
“Can’t make an exception?” Gojo asks, setting his elbow up on the counter and mr gta instantly starts scratching at his skin. He watches her expression change from business to something else before pushing away from the desk, chair springing when she gets up from it.
“I can check with the doctor for you!” she chirps and disappears into the hallway. Gojo looks down at mr gta, who’s staring off in the direction she went before he starts licking his paw.
The vet makes an exception, but not without a twenty minute wait. Gojo briefly wonders what being a veterinarian would be like, getting to hold tiny cute kittens like mr gta—who, by the way, is indeed a mister—all day. But, he figures there’s probably downsides to it too, since not all their patients are probably as sweet as mr gta is when he gets his shots. Cute thing just winces a little from the needle then chirps a drawled meow before shaking his head and wobbling right back into Gojo’s hands at the edge of the metal table. God, Gojo was attached. It hasn’t even been three hours, and he’d already jump in front of an active shooter just to protect the little Black Ball with Mittens.
Well, some of the love diminishes when he realizes just how damn expensive the vet visit cost as the receptionist from earlier adds up services on her dated calculator with punches of her index finger on worn out buttons. Gojo pulls his wallet out of his pocket and hands her his credit card, and even though it’s just the plastic equivalent of cash, he still feels like it’s much lighter somehow when she hands it back to him. She prints out the receipt, licking her thumb to separate the customer copy from the office’s copy and hands the latter to him to sign. The puff ball tied at the end of the pen intrigues mr gta who swats his paw at it while Gojo makes quick work of his signature and hands it over the counter. He’s about to turn on his heel to head out the door in no need of the customer copy, when the receptionist squeaks out a wait and scribbles something onto it before handing it to him. He glances down at the ballpoint blue ink. The total that he paid in written out words, a large circle drawn around a free future check-up coupon, and beneath it, a phone number with a heart next to it. He finally clocks in on the flirting.
His now healthy kitten is captivated by the noise of the bell above the door again when Gojo makes his way through it, and then captivated by the sound of plastic paper crumpling in his hand when he tosses the receipt into a trash can outside of receptionist desk view. It’s not like he needed it, he can’t return vaccines.
“So you’re cool with it?’ Gojo asks, Suguru on the other line since he wasn’t home and he was the last one of his housemates he had to check with if keeping mr gta was alright or not. Not that Gojo would drop the little guy off at a shelter if one of the guys did say they didn’t want a cat in the house. He’d sooner drop one of his housemates off at the shelter than get rid of mr gta.
Suguru sighs through the receiver. “I guess it’s fine as long as you take care of it…but it’s weird, you’ve never cared much for cats?”
Gojo’s eyes flicker across the ceiling of his room as he lays on his bed, swinging his knee back and forth before adjusting his hand under his neck to get more comfortable. His gaze then flits down to mr gta, who is roaming the expanse of his chest and plucking at the fabric of Gojo’s shirt with every step he takes across it. Purring like a maniac where the sound is probably loud enough to interrupt Nanami’s wim hof breathing meditation exercises three houses down from here.
Gojo pulls the phone away from his ear and tucks his chin to look mr gta straight in the eye. “Dude. Could you keep it down? I’m on the phone.”
Electrocuted Puff Ball just stares at him and mews in defiance before using its hind leg to scratch behind its ear, then settles its head down on the center of Gojo’s chest, the rumble of purrs felt on his sternum.
Gojo brings the phone back to his ear. He considers how to answer Suguru, thinking can’t let the gang know I fw cute cats all of a sudden so instead he says— “I don’t know. It’s probably the cat parasite.”
“The what?” Suguru asks.
Gojo scratches the top of mr gta’s head as he puts Suguru on speaker then peruses a WikiHow article on his phone on how to care for babies. Apparently, skin to skin contact is very important, so he shoves mr gta underneath the fabric of his shirt. “Yeah, something about a parasite from cats that can infect humans and basically make us fall in love with them as some sort of survival strategy. I read about it on the mews—er, news. Mews? What the fuck. I just said mews instead of news. See?? It’s the fuckin’ cat parasite.”
He hears Suguru sigh. “Aight. Whatever floats your boat, dude.”
Gojo’s phone pings with a text notification, and when he sees your name flash across his screen, his eyes widen. “Uh, gotta go. See ya at home. Don’t forget the cat food.” And then he hangs up. Because he can’t talk to you and concentrate on anything else at the same time.
He sits up, catching mr gta when he falls towards his lap in the motion, and then he perches himself up on an elbow to read your texts.
|| 10:24am You: hi, sorry for kicking you out earlier today
|| 10:24am You: i was just a little sad about the kitty :(
He sees you typing, before the bubble disappears. He holds his breath. And then he sees you typing again.
|| 10:26am You: i’m on my period, so im’ a little emotional
Gojo blinks at his screen. Then his thumbs move to type.
|| 10:28am Gojo Satoru: Oh
He scans his brain for the right thing to say.
|| 10:29am Gojo Satoru: Are you doing okay? Do you need Ibuprofen
He feels mr gta’s warm little body press against his torso.
|| 10:30 Gojo Satoru: Or a heating pad?
Nailed it.
|| 10:32am You: aw no i’m ok!! thanks though :))
|| 10:32am You: did you keep the kitty?
His eyes flicker down to mr gta, who has fully fallen asleep in his lap. Dumb little thing. Doesn’t even know pythagoras’s theorum, or anything about the Roman Empire. Only knows warmth and whiskers. But if anything bad ever happened to mr gta, Gojo would probably end up in jail for the revenge he wreaks havoc on the perpetrators.
|| 10:24am Gojo Satoru: I did, yeah. Victim of the cat parasite
|| 10:26am You: cat parasite??
|| 10:26am You: what’s that
|| 10:28am Gojo Satoru: Some parasite that makes people like cats
|| 10:29am Gojo Satoru: [sent an article]
|| 10:29am Gojo Satoru: Saw it on the news
|| 10:31am You: don’t you mean
|| 10:31am You: the mews
|| 10:31am You: haha get it
|| 10:31am You: because of mew
He blinks at his phone screen, and then his lips purse. The cuteness aggression he has felt today is enough to kill a grown man, and he has to set his phone down to deal with the wide grin that spreads across his face from your messages. He rubs a hand across his mouth and over his jaw, to ease the sore to the cheeks of his muscles from the way he can’t help the stupid way he’s cheesing over you, and it’s almost embarrassing if it didn’t make his heart beat fast in his chest in the same flush way he feels at the end of a good run or an exciting soccer match.
And while he tries to contain his face despite the lack of any witnesses, except for the kitten curled up in his lap, he realizes it’s been minutes since he responded to you.
He falls back onto the bed, head hitting the pillow while he sets his hand holding his phone down on his chest to read your message. Mr gta crawls up from his lap to sit in front of his phone screen, and Gojo has to tilt his head to look past the obstructing view of his wispy floofy tail.
|| 10:35am you: sorry. was that lame :(
Mr gta meows incessantly at the phone as if in response to you. “Yeahhh I know. She’s really cute, isn’t she.” And then Gojo scratches behind his pointy little ear with his index finger. Mr gta entirely leans into the sensation, purring loudly almost on command before he’s meowing again in a tiny voice.
Mr gta reaches his paw out, pressing it against the bright screen of Gojo’s phone, typing nonsensical letters because he doesn’t know the English lexicon, or any lexicon for that matter other than purr and meow and hiss.
Gojo thinks nothing of it, until his paw accidentally presses the blue send button.
|| 10:37am Gojo Satoru: sjhdfhh
|| 10:38am You: huh?
|| 10:39am Gojo Satoru: Sorry
|| 10:39am Gojo Satoru: That was the cat
.
.
.
[the end]
a/n. hope u enjoyeeddd lol gojo as a cat dad was not in my plans for kickoff at all but this was fun to write alskdjdh i want a lil kitty so baaaaad </3 anywho, like i mentioned, this will be the last drabble from ch10 haha we shall move on to ch11 now 😼 but there will def be more mr gta appearances in kickoff bc that’s gojo’s lil baby now :”) thanks sm for reading!! love u guys
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#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x reader smut#gojo x reader fluff#gojo x reader angst#jjk gojo#series#alternative universe#gojo satoru fluff drabble#gojo satoru fluff angst#college au#jjk smut#smut#fluff#angst#long fic#jjk series#ongoing series#romance#sports au#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo x reader long fic#fanfiction#anime#jjk#gojo satoru fanfiction
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hi girlie! idk if yr taking requests so feel free to discard it but i was listening to agora hills by doja cat and the idea of reader being famous artist and joost being the fan just didn’t leave me alone😭🌀🩵
thank you for the request 🫶🏻 i hope you guys enjoy it <3
Stargirl Interlude ☽｡⋆ Joost Klein
Summary: you’re a famous singer meeting one of your fans
Warnings: none, just fluff and two fangirls meeting each other (maybe smut in pt. 2 bc this ends in a cliffhanger kinda), not proofread, afab!reader, no use of Y/N
WC: 1.1k
A/N: guys pls lmk if i should do a part two (i will) 💫
What you loved most about your job was seeing the happy faces of your fans whenever you came on stage. Well, it wasn’t really a job to you, it was your destiny to stand on stage and make people happy.
You loved when the crowd chanted your name, absolutely making every stage performance of yours better when they sang the lyrics. It made you proud. And it was everything you dreamed of when you were a child. Seeing people happy and being able to help them with your music somehow.
Nonetheless, every time you went on stage you were nervous. It was a feeling that accompanied you ever since you started your career.
Today you performed in a club in Amsterdam. You’ve never actually travelled to the Netherlands before so you were really excited. Not only to perform but also to explore the city, since it was your last tour stop you were doing at the moment.
Right now you were getting all set up to go on stage. You could already hear the people outside waiting for you to come out and start the show. “You’re going to kill it babes.” Your best friend, Tommy, said as he came to a stand beside you with a drink for you which you accepted with a thanks and sipped on it. “I really hope so.” Smiling you gave him the empty cup.
Tommy always travelled with you. He has been there for you since the very beginning of your career and never left your side, always calming your nerves before the shows started and you were so fucking thankful for him. “Jeez stop being so nervous! You’re a bomb you know that and now go out there and fucking show them what you got!” He cheered you on and you laughed. Giving him one last hug and taking a deep breath you ran out
“AMSTERDAM ARE YOU READY?! LETS GET THIS PARTY GOING!” You yelled and instantly felt happiness and relief flowed your body as the crowd screamed and just went completely crazy.
And so you started your show, loving the way all the people singing with you. It really filled your heart with joy. After an hour or so you were out of breath and just needed some water. Your hair was sticking to your sweaty forehead but honestly? You couldn’t be happier. Looking throughout the crowd you smiled. “Gosh we’re having some really good looking guys here tonight done we?” You grinned and the crowd screamed.
And with ‘good looking guys’ you meant one particular one that caught your eye since the beginning of the show. Of course you knew who he was. You saw him on your TikTok the whole time, liking way too many edits that popped up on your For-You-Page.
Eyes roaming the crowd again they stopped at him for a short moment but you were sure he noticed. “Never thought an Eurovision candidate would be a fan of mine.” You now grinned at the blonde, walking towards the front of the stage and kneeling down. “Joost mother fucking Klein is listening to my music guys!” You screamed and the crowd cheered again. Eyes darting to him, you saw him laugh. It would be a lie to say you didn’t listen to his music, even though you didn’t understand a word.
Walking to the back of the stage to your DJ you said something to him and soon the melody of Europapa was blasting through the speakers and you and almost the whole audience did that silly little dance and you saw Joost laughing and cheering, definitely liking it.
After the song finished you kept on going with your show, watching Joost sing along to all of your songs. Something you never thought would happen. You played your last few songs, totally forgetting the time and soon everything was over. “THANK YOU AMSTERDAM!! I LOVE YOU!” You screamed into the mic, your eyes finding the blondes again, before walking off stage.
“Jesus babes that was amazing!” Tommy practically yelled and hugged you, making you giggle. “Thanks Tommy, hey, could you get Joost backstage?” You asked in your sweetest voice possible, bashing your lashes at him and he grinned. “Uhhh.” Scoffing you hit his arm earning a huff from him. “I see what I can do.” And with that he was off.
Walking back to your dressing room you flipped down on the couch, taking a cup with whatever liquor was inside, and opened your instagram. Your DM’s and notifications were flooded with messages, pictures and videos of what just happened. People already shipped you and even had a name for the both of you. You giggled and went on TikTok, notifications blowing up on there as well. Being so concentrated on your phone you didn’t hear the knock that was coming from the door.
As you finally did notice tho you quickly yelled a “yeah?” and the door opened. Joost standing in the doorway.
Sitting up straight now you smiled widely. “Hey.” He breathed out like he couldn’t believe he’s finally meeting you. “Hi.” You smiled back and got up to hug him. “Can’t believe I’m finally meeting you.” Joost chuckled and you smiled, pulling away. “Really?” He nodded. “Been listening to your music for a while now actually.” He confessed and it made you really proud somehow. “Well thank you.” You giggled.
Both of you sat down and started to chatter away and you couldn’t stop yourself from noticing how he was smiling the whole time as he was excitedly talking to you about everything. And you got along so well. The time flew by so fast and soon it was 4 in the morning.
“I should get going.” Joost said as he looked at his phone. You just nodded. “Yeah I’m so done. Need a lot of sleep now. Long day tomorrow. I want to do some sightseeing.” You smiled, pulling your knees to your chest. “Hey uh.” Joost started and scratched the back of his head nervously. “How about I give you my number and you hit me up? I can show you around if you want.”
Your eyes lit up as you nodded. “I’d really like that you smiled as he dropped his shoulder. You didn’t even noticed how nervous he actually was to ask you that question. Handing over his phone you quickly typed your number down along with his name. He smiled as you gave it back to him. “Then good night I guess. I see you around then.”
And with that he walked out of the club, not being able to stop the smile that was forming on his face. Taking his phone out he looked at your contact and chuckled.
You saved yourself on his phone as ‘Stargirl Interlude 💫’, your stage name.
#joost klein#12 points to the netherlands#joost klein x reader#joostice#joost klein imagine#joost klein smut#justice for joost#eurovision 2024
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Imagine Al Haitham opening his house only to realize how silent and cold it has become. Looking around, the light into the living room has off, making him wonder if no was around the house which was strange. It should be around the time were you were at home but then again, he himself have nothing to say since he was usually still out during this time. Today just happened to be the day where he found himself under time at work.
Imagine Al Haitham who quietly made his way into the the house, was about to open your shared room when he realized it was already open, left unlocked as he went high alert. He stood there for a moment, looking around for any signs of intruder, mind going miles as he suddenly thought of you. Is that why you are not there to welcome him as usual? Because something happened to you- sniff.
Imagine it was soon followed by a fit of sobbing. Unlike before, he turned stiff in place. Suddenly not knowing what to do. Al Haitham have seen you cried before, but it was often due to happiness. And now that he was hearing those seemingly pain sobs that he knew you were trying to hide. He does not know what to do. Should he enter the room and comfort you? Or should he walk away and give you more time for yourself? If he happened to work just in time like usual, would ever knew you were in such state?
Imagine for who know how long, you heard the sound of the door slamming causing you to flinch. You had just finished your breakdown for some time now. Maybe it was the stress or maybe it was something else. But today was just one of those days were everything seemed to be going south and before you knew it, you found yourself locked into your lover's room on tears, losing track of time. Come to think of it, it was about time Al Haitham went back. But then again, you were a mess. You just finished crying a little while ago, you still have not washed your face. In the end, you found yourseld under the covers when there was a knock on your bedroom door.
Imagine the shift of weight of the bed upon feeling his presence. You are tense, not knowing what to do if he were ever to see you in such state. And to your concern, you felt his hand reach out upon feeling his hand right on your head. "Are you awake?" His question made you sniff. He knew. "I bought some stuffs back in the dinning room, care to join me for a meal? It's late." There he was speaking so gently as you felt him caress your head gently through the sheets in unknowingly make you tear up and you sniff once again. You then felt him pat you gently before there was a shift of weight in the bed again. "I'll be waiting, hmm."
Imagine just in time as Al Haitham finished setting up the dishes and plates, you emerged in the room with an exhausted look on your face. Nevertheless there was a small genuine on his face that brings you comfort as he opened his arms to welcome you. "Come here." And you did, no questions and hesitation, you throw yourself at him as he warp you in his arms. Once you do, you found yourself crying once again but, "It must have been hard, hmmm?" You felt him caress your head, running his fingers in your hair. "It's alright." He pat you onnthe back with his free hand. "I'm here now."
[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024° :(
#dark night hero#genshin impact#genshin imagines#genshin#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact fanfic#genshin comfort#dude my mind is pulsing of how much of a bad ans stressfuk day this is#genshin alhaitham#al haitham x reader#al haitham#al haitham imagines#al haitam x reader#genshin impact fluff#genshin fluff#genshin x reader#genshin x you
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heaven is a place on earth with you
art donaldson x fem!reader
|| soft moments in your fresh new home
cw: smoking, minor cursing, no use of y/n (1240 words)
a/n: writing about my sweet baby art during finals bc why not
you swore you could have stayed like this forever. tangled in silky bedsheets, soft rays of light that tingled on your face, body pressed against art's. one of those moments you wished you could pause and settle in for an eternity.
the mattress was on the floor, and cardboard boxed were scattered all around your apartment. your apartment. it felt blissful to say it. a life awaited you there, between the beige and baby blue walls that screamed for another hand of paint. it was far from the ideal, but it was perfect because it was yours. art's and your world. didn't it sound so pretty?
you looked over at him. eyes closed, lips slightly parted, his head a blond mess of curls and his skin warm despite the moring breeze that slipped inside the room through the opened balcony. art looked otherworldly. he always did, in your eyes. and you felt like the luckiest woman on earth with him, because he looked at you, because he touched you, because he loved you. because he felt for you what you felt with him.
and you two were fucking living together. the thought was enough to bloom a grin on your lips. a pure, joyful smile that made you want to jump and dance all around. pressing a feather-like kiss to his temple, you sat up, careful to untangle yourself from his arms and slinging over one of his standford t-shirts.
you reached over to your bedside table- well, the brown leather suitcase on which you had left some stuff. a provisional nightstand, let's leave it at that. you took a cigarette out of the box, holding it between your lips as you grabbed the lighter and your sketchbook and pencil.
the cool air of the early morning greeted you as you stepped out onto the balcony, goosebumps appearing all over your skin.
you lit the cigarette with the pink lighter art had gifted you on your fourth date, all that time ago, when you mentioned you kept losing all your lighters. it was safe to say you'd kept this one. it had fake rhinestones forming your initial on one side. you recalled thanking art with a very excited hug and an even more excited peck.
"you made it?" you had ask him, the glint in your big eyes almost matching the glimmer of the rhinestones under the streetlamp. when art nodded, you gushed, hugging him again. "it's beautiful, art, i love it."
"i'm so glad," he smiled. you looked ethereal, all the eagerness painted on your face, cheeks rosy from the cold, babbling about how sweet you found it.
"hey, do you have any more rhinestones left?" you asked.
"yeah, yeah, here," he handed you the stickers, watching you start putting some more on the other side of the lighter. "what are you-"
but he was shut as he guessed the shape of his own initial, a very shimmering 'A'. once finished, you showed it to him proudly.
you both broke into laughter, cheeks flushed and hurting from the smiles, but it didn't matter. not when you felt so safe around him. and certainly not when he pulled you in for a kiss.
taking another drag of the cigarette, you traced your fingertips against the initials on the lighter. call it luck or fate or whatever, but none of the rhinestones had ever unstuck from where you both had originally placed them.
you sat on the beach chair that you'd placed on the balcony last night, before getting trapped between art's arms and lips, and getting lost in him. tipping the ashes off of the end of the cigarette, you opened the sketchbook. it was actually another of art's little thoughtful gifts that he loved to give you, and you loved to receive.
on the first page of it was a sweet little dedication art had written.
'for my angel girl, so you can be an artist and carry me always with you
(get it? because i'm ART and you're an ARTist? so funny, i know.)
love you forever baby <3'
it always made you smile when you read it, and reach over to kiss him for no apparent reason, leaving him a curious, flushed mess.
on the page you were currently at, there were some seashell doodles from your last trip to the beach. art had picked them out for you, and peered through the whole process with his head resting on your shoulder. beneath the collection of seashells was a watercolor drawing of art's beautiful, dual colored eyes, and a little sketch of a couple of figs.
looking over, your eyes settled on the pastel colored laundry your neighbors in front had hanging and swaying lightly with the dawning breeze.
your traces were fast but precise. soon, the laundry was replicated under your pencil. shirts and pants and socks and even a bra. the cigarette dangled from your lip, forgotten amidst your concentration.
you were so absorbed in drawing little daisies on the socks you didn't hear the sheets rustling as art stirred awake, or his soft footsteps as he approached you. thus, when you heard his voice, you were startled for a second.
"hey, artist."
you turned to him, eyes big. the movement was so sudden the cigarette fell to the floor.
"hey, art," you smiled, setting down the sketchbook and pencil and standing up to greet him.
his hands were on your waist in no time, pulling you in for a kiss. you nuzzled your head onto the warmth of his chest, running your hands on his back.
"morning," you looked up to him. art smiled. god, that smile. it drove you crazy, made you weak at the knees. your soft fingertips drove up to trace his smile lines, trailing down to his jaw in no time.
he tucked some strand of hair behind your ears, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "were you drawing?" art asked, spinning you around so you both faced the view, his arms around your waist.
the sky was not fully blue yet; pink and purple hues shining over the horizon.
"mhm," you hummed. "i want to colour it later, will you help me?"
"of course, baby," he mumbled, pressing kisses to your cheek.
it was something silly you two did sometimes. after pouring you both some coffee (you made it for art the way he liked, as he prepared yours as he'd learnt from several coffee dates), you'd pull out some colour pencils or sharpies and paint the little doodles you had drawn.
"hey," art whispered. "we live together."
you smiled. "yeah, we do. it's perfect."
art huffed at that. "the walls are on the verge of falling apart. and the people from the bar downstairs were noisy as fuck. and the shower-"
"shut up," you playfully hit his arm, rolling around again to face him once more. "it's you and i. sounds perfect to me."
he gifted you another smile. "you're right. it's ours. that's more than enough."
was this your own personal heaven? you found yourself thinking that often, as you got lost in his always tender eyes, or the sound of your laughters together, or the tingles he left on your skin, or the way you loved each other. as he lifted you up and carried you inside for your first breakfast at your place, you were sure of the answer.
yeah, of fucking course it was.
© heartcereql, 2024 || thank you for reading ! 𓆩 ♱ 𓆪
#mike faist x reader#mike faist#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#challengers x reader#dodge mason x reader#heartcereql
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Trials and Tribulations
Tags: non-con, BFH, I somehow wrote this in 3 hours, what is 'edit', Jeewon, unnamed OC, forced free use, manipulating, groping, painal
A/N: Saw a Jeewon post on KPF and thought of something to write, laid down and wanted to write a few paragraphs before getting back up to go play or whatever, next thing I know I wrote the whole thing already more or less. Consider this as a spiritual successor to Boulevard of Broken Dreams BUT BUT BUT only in that it has somewhat of a similar premise, it is way way way waaaaay more tame and casual (aside from one painal scene) in terms of detail than BBD. Anyway, enjoy!
Cignature’s manager walks into the room and sees Jeewon just getting off her knees, he sees her bend forward, her butt pushes out towards him putting a smile on his face. She brushes her knees clean of dirt then fixes her skirt. As she turns around towards him, he sees a complete contrast to the clean and clothed look of her ass—her bare chest and face covered in cum.
He looks over her shoulder and sees a middle-aged businessman on a chair, totally exhausted, one of the company’s investors. “She’s wonderful, isn't she?” says the manager to which the only reply he gets is a nod and two thumbs up. “I’ll be taking her away now.”
Jeewon heads out then the manager catches up with her and gets to her side. He puts a hand on her hip to pull her close to him so he can whisper into her ear. “Have one of the girls go clean you up. Haven’t fucked that ass in quite some time.” He smacks her ass as a signal for her to get going. “Be quick, I’ll be waiting, you know where to find me.”
—————
Yep, that’s Jeewon. You’re probably wondering how she ended in that situation.
How does an innocent, voluptuous, and cheerful woman suddenly become the company’s cash cow? Well it all started when C9 Entertainment noticed a rather peculiar influx of attention. The attention wasn’t mainly on their sole girl group Cignature but rather it was targeted mostly at the company itself.
They quickly traced it back to an interview that one Jeewon, one of Cignature’s members, did where the interviewer talked about her body, indirectly referring to her chest which she covered at the time the question was asked. Rather than addressing the situation and protecting their own artist, they instead embraced it. After all, as the saying goes, “Any publicity is good publicity.” Which goes true the more people talk about the clip.
Now all that was left for C9 Entertainment to do was to capitalize on the attention and they found their solution from none other than the infamous interview itself—Waterbomb, well, a festival similar enough to Waterbomb that is.
The announcement was controversial enough on its own but it was nothing compared to what Jeewon wore at the event. They put her in a bikini top and gave her a thin white top just to say she wasn’t naked.
The outrage was massive but not as big as Jeewon’s chest or the Won signs in the company’s eyes. Sure the company received tremendous backlash for the decisions they’ve been making but that was nothing compared to the money coming their way.
From that day forward, the company’s view of Jeewon has changed and all she is in their eyes is merely a tool they can use to generate views and revenue. While the higher ups used Jeewon’s body for profit, their manager planned to use Jeewon’s body for his pleasure.
He used to see Jeewon and Cignature as his responsibility, close friends, and possibly even family. But given recent events, his perception of her has changed and after the festival, after seeing Jeewon up close, after seeing her tits jiggle, he has been woken up to just how insanely sexy she is.
After every practice session or performance the group would do, whenever they finished their manager would be close by to congratulate them. Often he would clap and cheer for them or pat their backs. It gave the members encouragement and energy to keep going, that is, until they realized that his pats on Jeewon progressively got lower and lower until one day he’s just groping her butt in view of everyone else.
Naturally the members would complain to the other staff but some simply didn’t care while the rest told them to just suck it up and accept it. That, along with some gaslighting and manipulating from the manager, made them keep their mouths shut. And the encouragement they would get turned into fear that the rest of the group would be touched the way Jeewon gets touched.
Following their silence, he became more shameless in his interactions with Jeewon. He would slap her ass as a greeting any time he comes close to her and often we would hug her from behind like some romantic scene in a K-drama but instead it’s so he can grab her breasts without her leaving.
He even made some rearrangements to the room assignments at the dorm, moving Jeewon from her room to his. He placed, well more so dumped, her things into his room just to seal the deal. And no, he didn’t have an extra bed so he made her stay with him on his.
On the first night they were in the room together, as Jeewon was about to go to the bathroom to get changed, the manager blocked the way out and instructed her to get changed in front of him. With no other options and no way out, she was forced to comply. He licked his lips as he saw her in her underwear, it wasn’t quite the full thing just yet but he knows for sure he’s going to get it soon enough. They climbed into bed and he turned her around so he could spoon her and cuddle her like some body pillow, all the while grinding his erection into her butt.
Morning arrived and everyone had breakfast together, with Jeewon sitting on the manager’s lap of course. As Jeewon was headed to the shower, he stops her and tells her he’s going with her “to save water,” a lie apparent to both of them. Jeewon wanted to say no but before she could even answer he was already pushing her towards the bathroom. The members watched anxiously as they walked together, nothing much they could really do.
The manager immediately strips down and his cock is standing proud as it pointed towards Jeewon who was visibly disgusted. She turns away from him to quietly cry but not even her feelings had space as the manager was already starting to take her clothes off. He got her down to her underwear when he backed off to let her strip the final pieces herself.
As Jeewon tantalizingly took her bra off, he would quote the interview back at her, saying that her physique is the best in history and that her body is the talk of the town. Jeewon once again covered her chest with her arm while she was removing her panties. She stood back up with her hands on her privates but the manager just walked up and put her hands at her side then he started feeling her up and played with her chest for a good few minutes. He would compliment her tits and especially her nipples since it’s the first time he’s seen them, maybe the first man ever to see them, then he proceeds to call himself lucky how he has her body all to himself.
After playing with her body, he suggested that they help each other by cleaning each other while he was stroking his dick, making the innuendo even clearer as if Jeewon didn’t already know what he meant.
The two stepped into the shower but it was less of a bath and more of Jeewon reluctantly jerking him off while he explored every inch of her exposed body once again.
He would get increasingly annoyed at how slow Jeewon’s pace was and he decided to drop the subtleties and he pushes down on her shoulders to force her down on her knees. Then he grabbed her tits and trapped his cock between them so that he could start thrusting while Jeewon just knelt there and be used.
Jeewon kept her eyes and mouth as shut as she could while he ejaculated all over her face. Before she could clean herself off, the manager wiped the cum off her face and collected it in his hand. He forced her to drink it all and retched from the taste. He then told her that she should get used to it because that wouldn’t be the last time she has to drink cum.
After showering and using up more water than if they bathed separately, the group got ready to go to practice. It went just about as well as how their previous practices went just with some extra groping being received by Jeewon. When they got back to the dorm and the two got into the shower again, Jeewon was ready to get back on her knees but instead she felt herself get turned around.
Jeewon felt the manager’s tip press against her slit and she froze in fear. He did not care if she was protected or not, a problem he was too horny to deal with at the moment. He pulled her back and held her by her chest as he started thrusting into her pussy. Jeewon just cried silently as she felt herself get more violated than she had already been, especially when she felt his hot cum stirring inside of her pussy.
The manager got high on fucking Jeewon that he proceeded to do just that and only that for the next few days. He didn’t care how or where he fucked Jeewon or who among the members saw it but the only thing that mattered to him was that either Jeewon’s pussy or mouth was occupied by his cock.
He would fuck her before and after sleeping. He would make her blow him while he ate food and watched TV. He would fuck her on the dining table forcing the members who were eating there to move elsewhere. He would use her mouth to properly clean him in the shower. And so on. Even when the group had to go practice, he would make the rest go to the company building while Jeewon was kept beneath him in the dorm. While they practiced their next performance, Jeewon was being turned into his sex pet.
One of the members complained that the manager keeps having sex with Jeewon but much to the group’s dismay, they doubled down and saw an opportunity land at their feet. Why stop at dressing Jeewon so scantily clad in public when they could also use her body behind closed doors to also bring more money in, that way whenever the group isn’t on stage, they can be certain that their wallets are full.
The manager was furious with what the members did even though the decision made by the company was expected for him but instead of finding out who the culprit was, he decided to just cool down and what better way to do that than to use Jeewon’s possibly untouched asshole for the first time.
The manager had all the members in the living room and they all sat quietly in fear. He told them how annoyed and disappointed he was in them but he made sure to tell them he won’t scold them for it which gave them some relief for a very brief moment until he grabbed Jeewon by her hair and dragged her into his room. The members cried while they held each other as they listened to Jeewon screaming and begging for help, their hearts broke knowing that they couldn’t help and that they were somehow responsible for subjecting her to even more torment.
He ripped Jeewon's clothes off while he held her down as she tried to struggle to free herself. Once her shorts were down, instead of feeling the familiar feeling of his tip pressing against her cunt, Jeewon felt his dick press against her asshole which made her scream so loud it echoed throughout the whole dorm.
He didn’t bother lubing up or anything and he just started going in dry. Jeewon never knew such pain prior to that moment, whether mental or physical, and she screamed her head off through the night, making it known to the members just how much pain she was in and making it hard for them to go to sleep just from the loudness alone.
From being always at the dorm to being almost never, Jeewon was sold off to investors as if she was some sort of prostitute. Though the manager still had his time with Jeewon, he wasn’t able to have as much action as he used to and naturally he turned to the other members of the group. He would assign a day for each member as if it was a chore to be used by him. The other members were also up for grabs but it was Jeewon who anyone wanted to fuck, not like anyone can blame them.
From a merely suggestive interview question, spiraled all the way into Jeewon being turned into a cow, both financially and sexually.
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"concrete" - hotch x fem!bau!reader
your crush on your boss is so nearly at its breaking point; based on the request found here
cw: canonical violence, mutual pining, mild miscommunication, not a happy ending but not an unhappy ending lmao sorry luv ya
word count: 1.4k
------
You’ve been crushing on your boss for exactly ten months and nine days. You’ve known him for close to a year, but when you think about it, that two month difference in time is just about what it takes to warm up to Aaron Hotchner.
He was a statue when you first met him. Unwavering, stoic, and maybe even a little strict (definitely very strict). He didn’t crack a smile around you until the first case you ever worked with the BAU was wrapped up, and he definitely didn’t make any jokes until much later on. You discovered underneath the stalwart, brick wall you met was the same man, only softer. Like one of those hard-shell candies with a jelly center. He was incredibly kind, patient, observant, and honorable.
And he would do anything for anyone on his team at the drop of a hat.
You also got to see the more playful side of him as you got to know him, as your caseload with the BAU only grew. Sure, he was a stickler for paperwork and procedure, but was he though?
You once saw him take over a report JJ was supposed to finish so she could make it to Henry’s t-ball game. You definitely witnessed him reassuring Penelope that it was okay that she hacked into the Interpol database for info on an UnSub, and when Derek needed help tracking down his cousin in Chicago, Hotch had the whole team pitch in, which was certainly some kind of ethics violation.
Little did you know that Aaron was crushing on you, too. He didn’t word it that way in his head, of course, but the second he watched you stride into the conference room to consult on a case, he knew he was in trouble. He expedited the transfer paperwork himself, even followed Strauss in the elevator on her way out one night to make her sign it.
He grew fond of you quickly, of your insights, your compassion with victims’ families, your quick wit. You always bring homemade cookies or cupcakes for the entire team when it’s someone’s birthday, and you always have a different perspective to offer on cases. He especially loves when you are clearly thinking hard about something, so you cross your ankles - sitting or standing, he’s noticed - and tap your toes against the floor.
Aaron’s ways of showing affection were not lost on you. He brought you coffee on more than one occasion, but he also brought coffee to the rest of the team. He straddles the invisible line between Caring Boss and More Than That so well. You’re not exactly sure what his actions mean.
Like today, for example. The team is in a small town in Kentucky, and you’re deep into a case - a spree, four murders in four days. You have been awake for about twenty straight hours, give or take, and the world around you has turned hazy.
You are combing through a suspect’s letters with Spencer, your eyes growing heavier by the second. Your chin is propped up by your arm, and you finally close your eyes, just for one second of respite. Your arm gives out and your head whacks against the table, a wake-up call no amount of espresso could ever provide.
“Shit, Y/N. Are you okay?” Spencer’s out of his chair in an instant as you lift your head, rubbing the already-formed welt on your forehead.
The spot is tender and red and you’re dizzy, the wheels on your chair not helping matters. Why are there three Reids hovering over you? They meld back into one Reid after you blink a few times, and as you’re nodding to reassure Spencer you’re okay, you hear Hotch walk in. “I heard a thud. What happened?”
The conference room in the police precinct is teeny and already cramped, so Spencer has to move out of the way for Hotch to get to you.
“She smacked her head on the table,” Spencer explains hurriedly. “I’ll get you an ice pack,” he scurries off, likely to ask one of the local officers, leaving you alone with Hotch.
You’re still reeling and a bit disoriented from the contact with the solid oak table. Hotch takes the rolling desk chair beside yours, previously occupied by Spencer, and is hunching to meet your eye line. “You should really go back to the hotel and sleep for a little bit,” he says.
“Nobody else is,” you protest just as Hotch squares up to you to examine the welt on your forehead. You see him visibly grimace, his lips pressing deep into his face.
His thumb is suddenly on your forehead, padding around the bruise. It’s tender, and you know it would hurt if he touched you even a centimeter to the left, but he’s hitting it at just the right spot. You can see the lines on his palm.
“Yeah, well, no one else just concussed themselves,” he points out. You can tell just by looking at him that he’s tired, too. His eyes are heavy, the bags under them puffier than usual.
“If I’m concussed, then I really shouldn’t go to sleep,” you point out, and Hotch’s expression tightens.
“What day is it today?” He asks, retracting his hand and pulling back into his own space.
“Wednesday,” you reply, then your eyes dart to the clock on the wall. 12:17 AM. “Thursday,” you correct.
Hotch releases a pressure-cooker sigh and narrows his eyes at you scrupulously. You lean forward in your chair in a challenge. “I’m fine,” you insist.
“I just wish you’d take care of yourself so I wouldn’t have to.”
This catches you off guard. Your brows furrow and you frown at Hotchner, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse me?” you ask, feeling offended. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “You don’t think I take care of myself?”
Hotch’s mouth is hanging open just slightly, and he’s shaking his head. “No, Y/N, that’s not what I-”
“You and I both know you would tell me if my performance was inadequate,” you decide in that moment - maybe it’s the potential concussion, or maybe it’s the exhaustion - to rip into him. “I don’t need a babysitter, Aaron.”
Hotchner shakes his head again. “I know you don’t need a babysitter,” he says calmly. Irritatingly calmly. “I just meant that there are many other things I’d rather be doing…”
Your mouth goes dry. Obnoxiously, with the cadence of a confused basset hound, you say, “huh?”
Aaron’s cheeks are pink now, and he swallows hard. “I’d better go check on Reid and that ice pack,” he murmurs, but before he can roll away, you grab the arm of his chair.
“Aaron,” you breathe out, and suddenly he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, like there’s a spotlight shining down on you from the ceiling of a little police precinct in Middle of Nowhere, Kentucky.
His brown eyes are so soft at this moment. His eyebrows have softened from their usual piercing, investigative furrow. He knees press into yours, and you want so badly to bridge that gap between his face and yours. His mouth is hanging open, only slightly, and you watch with bated breath as his tongue juts out - just barely - to moisten his lips.
The door flies open at that moment, and Spencer’s shifting three different ice packs among his hands. “I’ve got gel, I’ve got water-based, and they also had one of those beaded eye masks that people put in the freezer for self-care at home,” he laughs at this, stopping at the head of the table when he realizes he very clearly interrupted something. “Should… should I go?”
You’re rolling back from Hotch, crossing your ankles and shaking your head. “No, you’re fine, Spence,” you say hurriedly and squeakily, just as Hotch clears his throat and rises from his seat. He lingers in the door on his way out. As you’re taking the gel ice pack from Spencer and placing it gingerly against your forehead, your gaze meets Hotch’s.
He’s boring into you with those beautiful molten chocolate eyes, and he purses his lips pensively for one fleeting moment, as if to say, to be continued.
“What was all that about?” Spencer asks as he sits back down. You shake your head.
“Nothing,” you feel concrete tension in your jaw that radiates all the way down to your toes. You grab the next pile of letters and open one. The fact that you have to pretend like nothing just happened, like you didn’t just share an absurd amount of tension with your boss? It feels like your entire body is on pins and needles. “Let’s just keep going.”
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fic#criminal minds aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfic#hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x bau!reader#hotchner x you#hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner imagine
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He Knelt To The Ground….
masterlist || ask me anything <3
my blurb masterlist is here !!
authors note - taylors finally arrived in the uk ☺️ and what better way to celebrate then writing something cutesy. enjoy 💫
word count - 1k
in which, you and harry have been together for three years now, and at this point your relationship basically has a third with the amount of times you play taylor around the house, so at the eras concert he surprises you with something you’ll never forget.
You’re sitting in a private box at Taylor Swift’s first UK show of her Eras Tour in Scotland, and you still can’t believe it. The stadium is a sea of twinkling lights, fans holding up their phones and glow sticks, creating a mesmerizing galaxy. The energy is electric, the kind that makes your skin tingle and your heart race. Next to you, your boyfriend, Harry Styles, is equally captivated. His hand finds yours, squeezing it gently as he flashes you a grin that makes your heart flutter.
Taylor has been on stage for an hour now, and every song feels like magic. You’ve danced, you’ve sung along, and you’ve shared so many glances of shared joy with Harry. It’s surreal, being here with him, in this moment.
You stand in front of Harry, his arms wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close as you both watch Taylor Swift’s mesmerizing performance. The warmth of his embrace makes you feel safe and cherished, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against your back.
It’s just the two of you in the private box, a gift from Taylor herself. Harry and Taylor have been good friends for years, and she wanted to make sure he had the best view for her first UK show of the Eras Tour in Scotland.
The private box is a sanctuary amidst the excitement of the stadium, offering an unparalleled view of the stage. The crowd’s energy pulses around you, yet here, wrapped in Harry’s arms, it feels like your own little world.
His breath tickles your ear as he leans in to speak, his voice low and intimate. “S’heavenly, isn’t it?”
You nod, your heart full to bursting. “It really is.”
He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender. “A dream come true. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here with you.”
As Taylor finishes a high-energy number, the stage lights dim, and a hush falls over the crowd. You can feel the anticipation building, a collective breath being held. Harry’s arms tighten around you in shared excitement.
“Here it comes,” he murmurs.
The first few notes of "Love Story" play, and the crowd erupts into cheers and applause. You feel a rush of nostalgia, remembering the first time you heard this song, and how much it’s meant to you over the years.
Taylor steps to the front of the stage, her smile radiant as she gazes out at the audience.
“This one’s for all of you who’ve been with me since the beginning,” she says, her voice carrying a warmth that makes the massive stadium feel intimate.
“We were both young when I first saw you,” Harry sings softly into your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “I close my eyes and the flashback starts, I'm standing there, on a balcony in summer air.”
You lean more into him, feeling his breath against your ear as he continues to sing, his voice a perfect complement to Taylor’s. “See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns. See you make your way through the crowd and say hello.”
He turns you gently in his arms, so you’re facing him now, his eyes locked onto yours. “Little did I know that you were Romeo, you were throwing pebbles. And my daddy said, 'Stay away from Juliet.'”
You can’t help but smile, your heart swelling with love and happiness. Harry’s voice is full of emotion, each word resonating deeply within you.
“And I was crying on the staircase, begging you, 'Please don't go,’” he continues, his eyes never leaving yours.
The song progressed and before you knew it. The song was almost coming to an end.
As Taylor's voice fills the air, she sings, “Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone. I keep waiting for you, but you never come. Is this in my head? I don't know what to think.”
You feel Harry's grip loosen slightly, and you turn around to see why. To your shock and delight, you find Harry kneeling on one knee, an open ring box in his hand. The sparkling diamond catches the light, reflecting the magic of the moment.
He looks up at you, his eyes filled with love and a hint of nervousness.
“Marry me, Juliet,” he says, echoing the lyrics. “You’ll never have to be alone. I love you, and that’s all I really know.”
Your heart skips a beat, and tears spring to your eyes as you realize what’s happening. The stadium around you seems to fall away, and all you can see is Harry, his expression earnest and filled with hope.
“Will you marry me?” he asks, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes.
His eyes shimmer with unshed tears as he continues. "I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me. I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep beside you every night. I want to create a lifetime of memories, a million little moments that add up to a beautiful love story. So, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
The music swells around you, but for you, everything is silent except for the pounding of your heart. You nod, your voice catching as you whisper, “Yes, yes, of course, yes!”
Harry’s face breaks into a radiant smile as he slips the ring onto your finger. He stands, pulling you into a tight embrace, and you kiss him, tears of joy mingling with your laughter.
As you pull away, still wrapped in each other's arms, you feel like the world has shifted, the moment becoming a perfect memory you'll cherish forever.
“This is our love story,” Harry whispers in your ear, echoing your earlier words.
“And it’s just beginning,” you reply, your heart full to bursting.
#musicforastylesrestaurant#harry styles#harry styles angst#harry styles blurb#harry styles fluff#harry styles au#harry styles imagine#harry styles masterlist#harry styles fake ig#harry styles headcanon#harry styles x oc#harrystylesdrabble#harry styles fake social media#harry styles writing#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#harrystylesxreader#harry styles one shot#harry styles x yn#harry’s house#harrystylesxyn#taylor swift#the eras tour
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Ad Interim. | No Service
logline; The days and doubts and desires; the air, underneath the shoe.
[!!!] series history, this is the ninth; the amount of links are getting nauseating just go to the landing LMAO.
Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. I listen to this playlist too much in my day to day now, fr.
portion; 3k+
possible allergies; you're almost ten chapters in, you know very well by now that these two are rife with anxiety and insecurity.
pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (gets she/her'd mb)
fun fact: i finished this one 19 hours after the last chapter, whoops, but let it sit in my drafts to give some breathing room and do some rework
It is t-minus three days, until the worst Friday of your life.
But today’s Tuesday, and though you feel a touch uneasy, you figure it’s probably just the breakfast from yesterday at La Mattina settling in your stomach— Or, at least, hope it is.
You’re at home, sitting on your couch, pensive, haggard, leaned over. Elbows to knees, prayer hands to face, staring at your phone on the coffee table in front of you.
Just send it. Just send the text. Don’t be a fucking wuss. You’ve re-written it in your notes app like five fucking times— He does not care this much, he doesn’t even have basic reading comprehension— Okay, that’s mean— But it’s just not that deep. Just fucking! Send it!
Actually no, no, upon sixth review, the paragraph you had written out was way too intense, way too presumptive. Backspace, backspace, backspace—Just say hi. Let’s just start with Hi.
‘Yooooooooo’
Are you fucking possessed? Good Lord. How is he already typing he never used to reply this fast, what the fuck—
‘Are u fucking haunted?’
‘Fuck is yooooooo’
‘Yooo to you too, cousin’
Faster texter now, but Richie is still the same guy, at the end of the day.
‘this is a loaded fucking question’
‘but do you think you’ll be free any time this week?’
‘not unless ur dead or dying’
‘are you dead or dying?’
‘not that I’ve heard’
‘but I was thinking maybe we could like, get food or smth’
‘chat one on one. Been a minute, yknow’
That was too much. You didn’t need to do all that. Now he’s gonna go well who’s fault is that? And it’s yours. You know it’s yours. And then you’re gonna have that fucking conversation— Which is what this whole meet up thing was supposed to be about in the first place—
‘heard’
‘can’t get time off but fak needs to have his training wheels ripped’
‘could have dinner at the bear this week? Like 2 hours. Then I can watch him and keep him from shitting the bed’
‘and still get to do a fucking one on one, you corporate speak ass’
‘I didn’t know how else to fucking say it alright!!!!!!’
‘Dinner @ bear sounds good to me’
‘but probably ask carm/syd first if it’s cool’
‘yea yea I’ll fuckin check in with daddy don’t worry’
‘that sucked for me. That sucked to read. Go to jail.’
‘already have.’
‘I’ll let u know a time when I know. See u chip’
You heart it. The classic signal that it’s the end of a conversation. Holy shit. You did it. You actually texted someone that you miss that you miss them— Not directly, but you know Rich knows. And specifically, to book a dinner, to talk about what happened, to apologize for it. That’s pretty fucking huge. Which means—
It’s time to eat a whole freezer cake and lay in your pyjamas all day and interact with not a single soul on this entire planet. You’re absolutely at your social limit, for the day. Maybe you’ll talk it through with Mikey, actually. To the air, more accurately, but, y’know, same thing.
You’re gonna get dinner with Richie. You’re gonna get dinner, with Richie, this Friday. And it’s not gonna be awkward or weird, at all.
It is t-minus two days, until the worst Friday of Carmen’s life, so far, at least. There’s always next year.
But today’s Wednesday, and though he feels a little nerve-wracked, he’s pretty sure it’s just because the kitchen was so fucking dysfunctional this morning, and now that their prep’s off, the tempo of the whole fucking day is off, and they're behind on two tables. And fucking seriously this time, can someone get him a fucking marker that fucking works.
Okay, maybe it’s a little more, than nerve wracked.
Sydney is ever the intuitive, and always correct, at the station next to him— Because yes, they’re still down a hire since the meth guy, so now Carmen is on line.
She can tell, that somethings wrong with him, something’s always wrong with him. “Take your ten, Chef.”
Carmen shakes his head, obviously, there’s still prep to catch up on. And if he doesn't do it, it's not gonna get done, and even if it does get done, it's not gonna get done right. He’s pressing the dead sharpie down on the tape, like if he just brute forces it, it’ll start to work. “M’good, Chef.”
“Carmen.” She turns to him fully, stopping her work. And so, he does too. “Take your fucking ten.” She deadpans, she’s not taking no for an answer. She rubs her fist over her heart.
Carmen takes a beat, before nodding, doing the same. “Heard, Chef.”
He needs to look over expense reports that he can’t quite comprehend, anyways.
He really needs his sister. He steps into his office. Despite the fact that they re-constructed just about everything in the restaurant, this musty office remains the same. Untouched. After caving down walls, they had to cut the budget somewhere. He’s glad though, that it's untouched. It might be crowded, poorly organized, have an off smell (probably because of the birth in here, just a few weeks back), but it’s exactly as his brother left it, and that helps him feel… Connected, somehow.
What the hell is Var vs Budget? He’s googling every other word, here. He’s more than grateful, that before going home on mat leave, Sug set up a good enough automated Excel sheet that he could just plug in numbers and it did all the calculating for him. Doesn’t mean he knows what any of the numbers mean, but, they’re there.
He knows that red equals bad. Natalie told him that very specifically. Which did seem like she was calling him fucking stupid, but he let it go. There’s a lot of red. That’s a lot of bad. Well, not a lot, but like, a third of this is red. That’s probably more than it should be. How many months do they have again? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He is never gonna get to pay himself, he’s never gonna be able to pay Syd, he's never gonna get her a star, she’s gonna live with her dad for the rest of her life, you are never gonna get to work here, you’re gonna work as a bottle girl for the rest of your life, he’s never gonna get his shit together so he’s never gonna get to call you his, he’s gonna have to hand the deed to Cicero and then fucking everyone is gonna to lose their jobs and he’s still gonna be him. He’s still gonna be him. Carmy Berzatto, the chef that lost everything, little brother to everyone's hero who blew his brains out. Starless in Chicago, unable to feel anything more than sorry for himself. Carmen’s gonna die as Carmen, and nothing more. At the end of the day.
Take a deep breath, Bear. Relax.
He’s catastrophizing. You told him that. He forgot to look into it. He googles that, instead of another business term he doesn’t understand.
‘Fixates on the worst possible outcome and treats it as likely, even when it is not.’
Well, it does seem pretty fucking likely that he’s doomed to fail and fall into a Sisyphean nightmare of opening restaurants and falling on his fucking face, dragging everyone he loves down with him with his stupid failed pipe dreams. He's no better than his brother.
He tries his best to think of whatever level-headed bullshit you'd give to him, right now, tries to taste the hot chocolate, the lavender and cardamom coffee. He smells your shampoo, in his hair, that helps.
Maybe, maybe it’s just been a bad week. Maybe there will be a lot of bad weeks, maybe there won’t be. Maybe things will be fine, maybe they won’t. You and Syd will still succeed, even if he fails. Everyone will, even if he fails. He has a very capable crew. And while he cannot escape the thought that failure is around the corner, at the very least, he is comforted by the idea that at least he will be the only one sinking with the ship he commands.
The thought of drowning alone is still impossible to rid of. Though.
But you’ve sent a text. And isn’t that a wonderful distraction?
Your connection results in response to his, from this morning, of course. You actually got it today. He swells with what feels like pride, and despite the fact that no one's looking at him, he has to hide his smile with his hand, embarrassed by how happy he is, when he sees the photo you’ve sent, just now. A selfie, sitting next to an oven, Other Tony’s oven. You’re holding a fried wire in your hand.
The text below it is a wonderful salve, ‘If you ever fuck up your ovens, I’ve got like, 10 thermocouples in my personal stock now :))’
So good to him, too good to him. Too good to anyone. ‘Heard.’
Carmen so, so fucking desperately wants to ask you to come to The Bear, right now. You’re only two blocks away, at La Mattina. You’d come, if he asked. He knows that. But he also knows that even if you calm him down, in the long run, it’ll set his day even further off tempo, he’ll be distracted the rest of his shift, and that’s the last thing he needs. He can handle this himself.
‘:)’ For levity. Or something. He’s trying. You give it a heart, so that means he’s done something good, he’s pretty sure.
There’s a knock at his door. Richie does not wait for an answer before coming in. His knocks are more like warnings, really. Carmen’s quick to tuck his phone away, he knows it’d be perfect cannon fodder to be teased into oblivion.
“Aye, cous—”
Carmen does not let the man get a word in inch wise, “Who’s on expo?”
Richie grimaces, this fucking song and dance, again. “Syd.”
“Who’s on her station, then?”
“T.”
“And hers?”
“She’s doin’ fuckin’ both Carmy— And—” Richie pulls a sharpie out of his breast pocket, throwing it at him. Carmen catches it. “Fuckin’ works. Alright?”
Marker works, and the system works. He catches the double meaning, too. Carmen nods, “Heard.”
“Christ.” Richie looks to high heaven, looks to his best friend, really, to give him strength. “Can I take my fuckin’ turn now?”
“Yeah, yeah, go ‘head.” Carmen turns to his desk, looking over the excel sheet, again. He can’t imagine Richie needing all of his undivided attention, right now, he’s not you.
Speaking of you, he can’t find your repair expenses anywhere on here. He needs to text Sug, about that. No, she’s got a fucking baby, he’ll at least look for a physical copy, first.
“I need to take two hours, on Friday.”
“Huh?” Carm’s head snaps up. Okay, maybe he does need to give his full attention to Richie, right now. “Eva got a fuckin’ recital, or somethin’?”
“No, no, uh— Chip wants to get dinner.” Rich scratches his nose with his thumb. “Thought since Fak's been training to host f'like, the whole fuckin’ month, could do dinner 'ere, let him do a run on us. Two birds, one bullet, y’know.”
“It’s stone.”
“I’m not fuckin’ high, cousin—” “No, it’s— Alright.” Carmen closes his eyes, hand over his face, deciding this is not the fight he wants to choose. “Tony’s getting dinner with you?”
“If I’m allowed, your fuckin’ Majesty.”
If it were up to Carmen? He wouldn’t be. But you specifically asked. Why, he has no idea. Carmen crosses his arms. “Yeah, yeah, s’fine. Just start at like, a not peak time. Like 4:30? Then when rush starts after 5 Fak’ll have a lil' momentum.”
“Heard. I’ll tell ‘em.” Richie nods, turning to make his way out.
Carm’s leg bounces, a tick that he’s pretty sure he’ll never get rid of. “… Ey Rich?”
He stops, turning back to Carmy, “Yeah, cousin?”
Carmen taps the end of the sharpie on the table, not looking at Richie, “What’s uh— Why d’you call Tony ‘Chip’?”
Ever so slightly, Richie’s brows furrow. “Did'j'ya ask her?”
Carm shakes his head, “S’why I’m asking you.”
Richie takes a beat, head rocking to the side, “Y'should ask her, she’ll tell you.”
Carmy squints, at that, “Is it fuckin’ dark or somethin’, cousin?”
What’s so secretive about Chip? He figured it would be some stupid inside joke with chocolate chips, like Sug with the salt mix up. Richie swallows, frowning just a bit. He clearly does not know how to answer this question, which just makes Carmen even more curious.
“S’ not dark, kinda, it’s just, y’know. Personal.” Since when the fuck did Richie have respect for personal? Probably since he sent him to stage. Goddammit.
“Did you not coin it?”
“Mikey did.”
Oh.
Huh.
Mikey got to do that first, too, eh?
“But, y’know, ask her, she likes you well enough to tell you, I think.” Richie shrugs, palms out. “Kinda tells stories like that better than me, anyways.” That's high praise— Not in the sense that Richie's a great storyteller, but that he's willing to admit it, for you.
“Oh, she doesn’t bury the fuckin’ lead?”
“Oh, fuck you.” But it’s true, so Richie’s amused. There’s something nice, about being known. Even if it’s to tease.
There’s a lull of silence. Quite frankly, Carmen’s hoping that Richie’s general disdain of silence will force him to confess your nickname backstory, just to fill the void. It doesn’t. Instead, it just gears him up, in the worst way, able to read the look on Carmen’s face.
“You really wanna fuckin know, huh?” Richie tilts down his head, teasing. Carmen groans. Oh dear god, why him. “Oh, fuck, you fuckin’ like her, don’t’chu, cousin? You fuckin’ dog.”
“Shut the fuck up, Rich—”
“Aye, Chip’s a real catch, I gettit— Works hard, plays nice, cleans up good— Y’have my blessing.”
“Didn’t ask for it.”
“Aye,” Richie snaps his fingers, pointing at Carmen like he could smite him. “Don’t gimme no talk back, she was my boy first, a’right? One bad word from me, n’ your lil’ fantasy—” He gestures an explosion with his hand, making a ‘pop’ sound with his lips.
“Gone, cousin.”
Carmen leans back in his seat, playing with the sharpie in his hand. He’s essentially Kubrick staring down Richie, but the guy is unaffected. “Friday, 4:30, two hours. If Fak fucks up, you’re on deck.”
“Heard.”
“Jeff, can I please get an all day, baby?” Baby is Tina’s new HR approved version of ‘for the love of fucking god’ She’s definitely at her limit, meaning Syd’s definitely at her limit on expo. Richie starts to step out, walking backwards.
“You comin’ cousin?”
Carm scratches his nose, straightening up back to his desk. He wishes he could go back to the kitchen, where he knows he’s good, instead of in here, with some goddamn spreadsheets that he cannot comprehend beyond bad. “Uh, one sec, I just need to finish this fuckin’—” He shakes his hand in the air, “Whatever the fuck this is.”
Richie nods, tapping the doorway on his way out. “Heard… g’luck.”
Carmen does not look at the spreadsheets. No. He thinks. He doesn't think about business.
That wasn’t true, was it? A phone call from Richie wouldn’t be the end of him, end of you, would it? Carmen is on the losing playing field here, practically everyone here has more history with you than he does. If he had a… lapse in behaviour, and it got back to you, would that ruin him? God, even his work family ruins things for him. Or could. Which means they will. Catastrophizing.
Whatever. What the fuck ever. He needs to find your invoice. After some flipping through last month’s file, he finds a sticky note from Sug between loose pages.
‘reminder: ask carmy 4 tony invoice’
He squints. You said Nat took care of it. Maybe it’s an old sticky note, he’ll text her about it, it’ll be a solid forty hours before he’ll get a response, anyways. Mom stuff. He really needs to go visit his niece again, soon. Maybe this weekend. Take Richie’s car. But then he'll probably will be forced to take Richie, too. Maybe he should just ask you, instead. Let Nat thank you for the heating pad she’s been loving, properly. Have dinner, all together, in an actual family home, instead of just each other's apartments. That'd be nice.
Yeah. Yeah. He’ll ask you on Friday, when you come for dinner. He grabs a pad of paper, biting the cap off his sharpie. He’ll make you something off menu, on Friday. You’re coming before the rush, anyways, he’ll have time to play, on Friday.
He’s gonna do right by you, this Friday.
Tomorrow, you’ll be getting dinner with Richie, and it’ll be the worst Friday of your life.
But right now, it’s Thursday night, and you’ve finally finished Carmen’s piece for The Bear. You know you told him if he didn’t like it, he didn’t have to put it up, but admittedly, if he doesn’t like it, you will be crushed.
One big white canvas.
Nine perfect squares, perfectly equidistant from each other at all angles.
Each square a snippet, a photo transfer. The squares themselves are messy, sun damaged, bleach stained, light flared. All twinged blue and yellowish. But so perfectly cut and curated.
Each image, something new. Starting at the top left, it’s The Original Beef. Then, the inside. Then the booths.
Then the second row, the sandwiches, held in hands.
The center photo. You've taken almost all of these photos on a disposable from yesteryear, but this is the one you like the most.
Mikey. The only transfer completely unbleached, unaltered, unruined. He’s holding two cut outs. One, Food & Wine and the other, a small section in the off off off pages of the New York Times.
Both specifically the one’s that mentioned Carmen, winning Best Chef and the James Beard.
Mikey was so proud. So so proud, silently, just with you— Couldn't look soft. Carmen does not know this photo exists. No one does. You hope this piece will act as the catalyst for you to be able to talk about the elephant in the room you’ve yet to open for him.
Right next to Mikey, is a balloon on a pipe— A photo you grabbed from Sydney and printed. You can only imagine the stress you could’ve eased, during their fire safety test. C’est la vie. Fak got to prove himself.
And on the last row, the new, ritzy, booths. The Seven Fishes dish— Also a photo you stole from Sydney. And finally, The Bear’s sign. Taken at night, lit up in all its neon glory.
Though the images are disconnected, starting from Mikey in the center— Clean, the flaring and staining grows more intense at the pictures in the corner. Just bordering on illegible. It all feels interconnected, woven.
It’s Carmen. Or, at least, you think it is. That’s what you were trying to achieve. You took inspiration from the way his brain works, the way he cooks messy but produces orderly, the way he’s grown something out of what was barely more than nothing. The way love and grief is at the center of everything. He’s awfully inspiring.
You’re excited, to show this to him tomorrow, on Friday. Hopefully all goes well, on Friday. You’re coming before the rush, you’ll probably have a little time to talk, on Friday. You won’t be able to get into everything, no, you’ve promised most of your bandwidth to Richie, but you’ll make a good start, on Friday.
You’re gonna do right, by Carmen, on Friday.
Tomorrow.
HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE
i've still got 2k of beats to cover for the next chapter, and have 7.9k already written out, for it. This is going to be fun. lmao. I'm genuinely very very excited for you to see it, when it comes out. Cannot believe I thought like 4 chapters ago that'd this next chapter would be the one to be released next. I almost briefed over all of these past few chapters to be nothing more than snippets in a chapter, I would never forgive myself if i went through with that plan, fr.
Anyways, no time for the future, this is NOW!! I hope I described Tony's paintin' good. I think it'd be nice. MBMBAM reference in the intro, are you fucking HAUNTED? ARE YOU FUCKING POSESSED? Love griffy, had to. Carmen CANNOT stop having anxiety attacks, someone get him on prozac frfr.
Tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my hat, I'm gonna need some words to chew on while I write, anyways. Hitting a wall choreographing this back half of chapter ten my GOD. Also oh yeah, silly aesthetic thing. I dunno if anyone noticed or cared, but i do a different ombre banner when it's carmen's perspec-- Did it last chapter too, aint that cute?
Also, I must finally give in, I was lazy to do taglists, but have folded, so here u are mfs. If you'd like to be added, you gotta leave me an essay somewhere. It's the RULES! Well, leave an essay and also ask to be added to the taglist that is but IT'S THE RULES!!
@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101
fully added people that never asked to be on here, you're just like, top fans, so i thought it would be nice, but if you WANT TO BE TAKEN OFF LET ME KNOW I'LL DO IT IMMEDIATELY ALSO IF I'M FORGETTING ANYONE WHO ASKED PLEASE DO REMIND ME
#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen x reader#carmy berzatto#carmen x oc#carmen berzatto x female reader#carmy x reader#the bear fanfiction#the bear x reader#the bear fx#the bear hulu#the bear#fanfic series
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omg did u see the sunday leaks ab his path and element..... hes also suspected to be released in 2.7 😭😭😭 sunday lovers r in agony rn
sunday potential leaks under cut;
aundayyyysyeyyyyy sundayydydyerrrerredder
hgrrgggggggggggggg
imaginary harmony… hehehehegrrrrrrrrrrrr
stellaron hunter aundaygrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
i always had this thing where you are an on call mechanic and you travel to planets and people commission you to fix their cars or their ships or whatever. you own a little warehouse on your home planet, whatever whatever.
you love your job. you’re also a bit of a grouch though. bit snarky, sarcastic, but you can offer some good advice if you need to.
you also happen to be the mechanic elio calls on when their ship needs repairs. it’s all completely secret. they call you in, you come on board, fix their shit, they pay you nicely, and then you leave.
you know them all well enough by now.
you’ve got elio who, when you come on board, says, “oh, by the way, watch the stairs on your way down.” (and surely enough you end up toppling down because there’s a loose step and you bruise your knee) (thanks for the warning). sometimes, you’re convinced he breaks their mangy old coffee machine just so you can visit again.
kafka loves to mess with you, but she means well. she enjoys a good chat, and sometimes when she’s not busy, she’ll follow you down to the engine and bring coffee. she drinks it black. gross.
she’ll ask about you, what you’ve been up to, how you’re feeling, whatever whatever. calls you beautiful, too. you guys probably kissed once. it’s sort of complicated.
blade is unfortunately your favourite. you love giving him giant hugs when you cross paths on the ship, and sometimes it’s like a reward when he returns the favour. at first you thought he was some big brooding hulk of a man, and then you learned he’s actually just some dude with really big arms. you also learn he owns bunny slippers and he likes pancakes, as weird as that is.
silver wolf cooks them best. you don’t really speak to her; she’s way too absorbed in her phone, but she thinks you’re cool. sometimes asks you questions about her PC or phone hardware and stuff, to which you reply, “i’m not tech support, weirdo.” she knows that, but your reactions are always fun. if kafka’s not around, she’ll show you the clothes she’s planning to buy online.
so you’re a common occurrence on the shuttle, sure. imagine your damn surprise when you stomp on board in the morning and when kafka greets you over her coffee, you accidentally shoulder check some random skinny dude (that’s not elio, because elio wouldn’t stand in the way at all) when you open the door.
you don’t pay it mind.
rather, you barely even notice and stalk over to the stupid machine while elio waves you a good morning. as you’re working, kafka leans on the bench next to you and offers you some of her coffee. it’s gross, but it keeps you awake enough to finish the job.
she’s chatting about whatever again until she falls comfortably silent.
“so, uh…” the machine buzzes to life as you plug it back into the wall. “what’s with angel face?”
she hums. “sunday.” she’s watching him now. silver wolf is showing him something on her phone, and he looks hilariously confused. “poor bird’s lost. flew too close to the sun.”
whatever that meant.
she takes her mug back from her hands. “why? like him?”
you hum lowly. when you turn and lock eyes with him, sunday quickly looks back down at silver wolf’s phone.
“handsome.” you weigh your options. “i think we’ll get along just fine.”
you were both doomed from the start, you and sunday. the pining was so obvious. you both practically chased each other around and then played it off as a coincidence when you bumped into to each other.
blade took it no mind, silver wolf gagged every time you two interacted. elio thought it was sweet, actually (he’s not surprised at how you two have developed). kafka plays wingwoman, because of course she does. she won’t voice it, but she thinks you both deserve to feel love again.
#god i loveveeee himmmmm euuuuu he’s just slime to me#so gooey so squishy#stellaron hunter sunday lives in my head rent free#stellaron hunter found family arc WHEN#i painfully said to myself thank god he’s coming in 2.7 that means i can pull for jiaoqiu#jiaoqiu nation gained another angel today#sunday x reader#sunday x you#sunday hsr#✦ ( scribbles. )#✦ ( love mail. )#✦ ( anon. )
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Another Chance to Live Final Part (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)
Summary: Ana and you are facing some big changes.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
A/N: I'm actually very proud of myself for finishing this story relatively fast. And it was a lot of fun to write :)
Thank you to everyone that stuck around till the end. I hope you enjoy this last part!
Of course you didn’t just trust your parents to respect the boundaries you had set in place; that had never been their strong suit after all. Once you had successfully weathered the first onslaught of emotions, you thought about it more carefully and together with Ana put a few precautions in place.
For one you informed the staff at Real that none of your family members should be granted access if they came by to see you. A wise decision, as it turned out. Only a few days later your mother showed up, arguing for so long that she had to be escorted off the premises by security personnel.
You also basically moved in with Ana. No one from your family knew where she lived, so they couldn’t just drop by like they could at your apartment. Another good call as you learnt when your neighbors told you that they had almost called the police because a man fitting your father’s description had been standing in front of the house for so long.
All of this made your guilt kick into overdrive and you were grateful for your girlfriend’s support. She never told you what to do, she was even hesitant to tell you what she would do in your place, but Ana was always there to listen and help you keep apart what you truly wanted from what you felt you should do.
While things with your family were at an all time low, you were incredibly happy with Ana, and practically living together was a welcome change in pace. Both of you were committed to making each other smile with small gestures, so your everyday life was filled with much more happiness than ever before.
Ana loved to start your day off with a big smile by turning your coffee into a small piece of art, constantly trying out new foam designs. And it didn’t matter if they turned out right or not, you appreciated the effort, and attempting to guess what your girlfriend had been going for was half the fun.
You knew Ana felt the same about something you were doing to brighten her day: learning some Swiss German words. Which wasn’t easy because you couldn’t just use any old translator, you had to invest some time to find the correct words. And often times you failed horribly at pronouncing them, making your girlfriend giggle while she was trying to decipher what you were saying. That in turn always got you laughing as well, which made it even harder to pronounce anything properly.
The biggest laughing fit set off by your Swiss German attempts occurred when you very proudly asked Ana if she could give you a Schmützeli. You didn’t get quite the reaction you hoped for, a kiss; instead your girlfriend was staring at you, and you couldn’t tell if she was amused or annoyed.
“Wait, does it not mean kiss? Did I mess this up? I’m so sorry if I said something offensive,” you apologized frantically, already pulling out your phone to look at your sources again. You had been so sure, you had even double-checked this.
At that point Ana began laughing, so hard that she couldn’t even say anything. Now it was your turn to stare at her, wondering what was so funny. It was a huge relief though; it couldn’t have been anything too bad if your girlfriend found it so amusing.
After a moment you couldn’t help but join the laughter. You didn’t know what you were laughing about, but Ana’s laughter was simply infectious.
Once your girlfriend had calmed down, she explained it to you still a little out of breath, “Okay, so it’s not even really that funny, but Schmützeli isn’t a word you would use with a partner. At least not where I’m from. It’s more for like small kisses between family members or friends. And it just really caught me off guard.”
You silently agreed, this wasn’t really that funny, and you were still a bit confused why it had made your girlfriend laugh so hard. Then again you were always happy to make Ana laugh, so you weren’t going to complain. And you definitely kept using the word again every once in a while because it amused her every time.
There were other things you did for each other, like Ana playing the guitar for you, sometimes even singing a song you requested, which made you all chocked up whenever she did. Or you taking pictures of small beautiful things you saw in your day to day life to show to your girlfriend in the evening, eager to share the beauty you had encountered with her.
You also did your best to make your everyday life as special as possible, savoring the time you got together. A part of this was ensuring that you weren’t just spending time together by being around each other, but also by doing things and actively spending time together whenever your crazy schedules allowed it. And sometimes even if they didn’t, carving out time when you didn’t necessarily have it.
It was a good thing your personal life brought you so much happiness because the same thing couldn’t be said about your work. To be honest thinking of football as merely that, work, was painful enough by itself. Sure, it was, but it also always had been so much more than just a job.
Sometimes you still debated if you should just retire and try to find something else that would spark some sort of passion again. However, at the end of the day you weren’t ready to give up on what had been your life’s biggest passion so far.
So you resigned yourself to this reality, where the joy you once found in football only showed itself on very rare occasions. And whenever it did, you clung to it with ferocity to tie you over until the next minuscule moment.
Then, completely out of the blue, you got an offer from another team. It hadn’t even crossed your mind to look around for another club; leaving Madrid had never been something you considered. It hadn’t been something you thought you would ever want to do.
But when you were approached by the managers of Tigres Femenil, you realized all of the sudden that it might be exactly what you wanted. It helped that it was the team Jenni was playing for, so you knew if you actually decided to go through with this, you wouldn’t be totally alone on another continent.
That wasn’t the appeal though, that was merely a helpful factor. What really made you want to do it was the fact that it would be your choice, only yours and no one else’s, not your family’s and not your club’s. It would be you deciding what to do with your life, instead of rolling with the punches others kept throwing at you.
Was that a good enough reason to move halfway across the world, though? Especially since there was one obvious reason keeping you in Madrid, Ana. The thought of not seeing her daily was hard to bare. Then again it probably wasn’t healthy that she was the only good thing in your life at the moment, that was too much pressure to place on one person. So perhaps it would be better for your relationship in the long run if you decided to do this?
On the other hand, Mexico was a long way from Madrid. Would Ana be okay with doing long distance or would this be the end of your relationship? Because in that case you wouldn’t do it.
As was in your nature you drove yourself crazy thinking about every possible outcome either of your choices could have. You did your best to not let on that something was bothering you, but Ana must have noticed anyway because she began acting a bit odd herself, switching between being weirdly distant and overly clingy.
You had almost reached the point of finally broaching the subject, when your girlfriend took the first step. In the morning before leaving for your respective training sessions, Ana nervously asked if you could talk later that night. Of course you agreed, thinking that she wanted to ask you what had been on your mind lately.
Consequently you spent the entire day agonizing about how you could put your thoughts and feelings into words. You made countless drafts in your mind, even though you knew that you wouldn’t be able to remember them in the moment. At least they made you feel a bit better prepared.
Ana was back at your apartment before you and she set everything up nicely with candles and flowers she had gotten for you. You appreciated how she went out of her way to make sure you knew everything was okay. Every once in a while you still got in your head, worried that your girlfriend would leave you if you made on small mistake.
Once you had both settled down, Ana took a deep breath, blurting out, “There is something I have to tell you.”
This took you by surprise. You had been under the assumption she had set this all up to get you to talk. And you instantly began wondering what your girlfriend had to tell you. Naturally your first thought was that she might break up with. However, even you had to admit that preparing a romantic candle light dinner would be a very strange move if you wanted to break up with someone.
“Oh, what is it? I actually have something I need to tell you as well,” you replied, trying to keep your worries out of your voice.
“Really?” Ana exclaimed in surprise. This in turn surprised you, you didn’t think you had been doing a good job at keeping your over thinking a secret.
“You can go first,” your girlfriend quickly offered.
Normally you wouldn’t have accepted such an offer, especially not when Ana had been the one to set all this up to talk to you about something. However, something in her tone sounded almost pleading, as if she desperately wanted you to go first. And begging from your girlfriend was something you could never resist.
“Well, I’m guess I’m just going to come out and say it,” you started, taking a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever might be Ana’s reaction, “I’ve gotten an offer from another club. And I didn’t think it was something I would be interested in, but now that I have it, I realize that I really am. You know how I feel at Real, so this might be my chance to enjoy football again. But then I also don’t want to leave you alone here because I love you and…”
Ana had been listening to you rattling on for a moment, her face unreadable, until she interrupted you sounding oddly excited, “Wait, you’re thinking about leaving Madrid?”
You frowned at her happiness. It was one thing to be excited about something good happening to your partner, but being so happy about them moving away seemed weird to you, and a little painful.
“Wow, no reason to be so happy about getting rid of me,” you mumbled, avoiding your girlfriend’s eyes.
“What? No!” Ana cried out, reaching over to grab your hand. “That’s not what this is about at all. The thing is that I too have gotten offers from other clubs and I didn’t really consider them, but then a few days ago Atleti told me that they wouldn’t renew my contract, so I have no choice but to leave.”
“And I have been feeling so bad about it because just like you said, I didn’t want to leave you behind here either. But if we’re both leaving, it’s a totally different scenario. Sure, long distance is going to suck, but it won’t be forever and at least this way we hopefully both end up in places where we feel happier than at our current clubs.”
Suddenly Ana’s behavior over the last few days made a lot more sense. You had thought she was acting weird because she had picked up on your distress, but really she had been dealing with something herself. Being dropped by yet another team and faced with having to upend her entire life again.
“Ugh, I didn’t think I could hate Atleti more than I already do! How stupid of them to let you go,” you grumbled.
Your girlfriend blinked a couple of times, a smile appearing on her face, “That’s what you’re focusing on right now?”
“Yeah! I’m really annoyed with them! But also…Why didn’t you tell me?”
It wasn’t something you could really complain about since it was very much exactly what you would have done in Ana’s position. Your girlfriend was much better though, when it came to opening up and discussing her struggles. So the fact that she hadn’t told you before didn’t sit right with you.
Ana sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I made up my mind so many times to just come right out and say it, but every time I lost my courage in the last second. Because at it turns out it’s not so easy to tell your girlfriend who you love very much and who has a hard time at work and with her family that you’re moving to another country.”
“Oh.”
You understood that, it was the thing you had been worried about, that Ana felt too much pressure to bring joy to your life because so little else did. Under different circumstances this might have been harder to swallow, but in the current situation it actually helped. It left not a single doubt in your mind, that leaving Madrid was the right choice.
“So, what are your options?” You asked to move on the conversation.
“There are different clubs in Switzerland I could go to, but I don’t really see myself doing that. It would be nice to be close to my family and maybe I should do it to help further women’s football in Switzerland, but it feels more like something I should do, not something I want, you know?”
You knew precisely what she meant. In fact for so long you had made all decisions based on exactly that feeling of ‘I should’, so you were happy Ana didn’t plan on making the same mistake. And you tried to show her that by nodding encouragingly.
“However, the other option is pretty far away, so I just want you to know that no decision has been made yet, and I really want to know what you think. Because if long distance on that scale is a deal breaker for you, I won’t do it,” your girlfriend continued.
Again you nodded, hung up on the fact that you had been having exactly the same thoughts. So as far as distance went this would either work out well for the two of you or Ana would really end up on the other side of the world. What even was on the other side of Mexico? You cursed yourself for your geography knowledge that was clearly lacking.
“Okay, so, the other option is Tigres Femenil. Jenni’s team in Mexico,” your girlfriend rushed out, her eyes flicking between you and the table, as if Ana was torn between wanting to study every miniscule reaction you might show, while also trying to avoid jus tthat.
“What?”
This had to be a joke! Ana probably learnt about your offer from then and decided to play a prank on you. Maybe Jenni had heard about it and told your girlfriend to do this, that would be a Jenni thing to do.
Except not really, though. Your older friend was known for playing pranks and amusing herself at the expense of others, but there was a clear line that she never crossed. And playing with someone’s heart and feelings was on the “don’t”-side of that line.
“I’m sorry! Like I said I haven’t decided yet and if it’s too far then I’ll go to Switzerland. I’m sure that will be great,” Ana apologized frantically.
“No, wait, that’s not why I reacted like this. The thing is my offer is also from Tigres Femenil, so it just seems a bit unbelievable? People don’t get this lucky in real life,” you explained, disbelief still coloring your tone and set firmly on your face.
“You’re joking right?” Your girlfriend inquired, apparently also having some issues fully accepting this miraculous coincidence as true.
“No, I’m not. They offered me a one year contract with the option for additional years if I like it there and fit well into the team.” Hopefully the added details would make it easier for Ana to believe this was actually happening.
After that the two of you stayed silent for a while, your hearts and minds needed some time to let themselves open up and accept that you were getting much more than you ever hoped for.
You reached that conclusion almost at the same time, huge grins spreading across both of your faces and then there was nothing holding you back anymore. Ana jumped up from her chair first and you swiftly followed suit.
Mere seconds later you basically jumped into your girlfriend’s arms, thinking in the back of your mind that this was exactly how you would celebrate a goal if you would play for the same time. Your heart jumped happily when you realized that you might get a chance to do precisely that next season.
“I’m so happy!” Ana squealed into your ear and you echoed that sentiment.
Moving abroad and playing for another team had sounded excited, but doing so with your girlfriend? That seemed more like a dream than anything else.
Ana and you stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms for a good while, just basking in the happiness. It was a welcome change from the usual reasons you spent so long in each other’s embrace. Normally you did so because one of you, more often than not you, was sad and needed comfort. Now there was not an ounce of sadness present, the air was electrified by excitement and the possibility of everything that was to come.
---
Of course you didn’t decide that night to accept the transfer, not legally at least, but emotionally you definitely did. Still, like the reasonable adults you were, you thought it through, gathered some more information before officially making the choice you had already made the moment you learnt both of you could go to Mexico together.
You called Jenni together to tell her the good news and she was overjoyed. Although if the amount of teasing you had to endure during one measly phone call was anything to go by, you were going to have to put up with a lot next year. You didn’t mind, though. Also you were aware that Ana would put a stop to it if she thought it was getting out of hand. You could as well, Jenni would listen if you seriously told her to stop, but you knew yourself well enough to know that you wouldn’t.
After that Ana and you focused on wrapping up everything in Madrid, sorting out your apartments and such. There was one particular subject you avoided like the plague, your family. You couldn’t leave for Mexico without at least telling them and try one more time, but you also weren’t ready to face them again in the slightest.
Finally you reached a point in time where you could no longer postpone it. Your girlfriend offered multiple times to go with you, but you declined every time, much to Ana’s chagrin. In the end she decided that she would at least drive you and wait for you in a nearby parking lot. You gladly accepted that suggestion.
“And please leave if it gets too much, yeah? Or call me and I will come get you,” Ana reminded you resolutely, still reluctant to let go of your hand.
“Don’t worry, tesoro, I’ll be fine. I don’t think much will come off today, but I just have to try one more time before we leave,” you explained. And it was true; you didn’t have high hopes for your conversation with your family. But even so you ended up being disappointed.
It started with a very frosty greeting, your father leading you into the living room where the rest of your family was sitting. You had chosen that day specifically because you had thought no one else would be over, but apparently you were out of luck. All of your aunts and uncles were assembled, staring at you disapprovingly.
You swallowed roughly, wetting your lips nervously when it became apparent that you would have to lead this conversation. This had been expected, you had even practiced a bit at home with Ana, but now in the moment your mind felt terrifyingly blank. With everyone glaring at you the only thing you could think of was to apologize. And that was the one thing you remembered you didn’t want to do.
“Did you just come here to stare at us?” Your mother questioned unfriendly.
“No, I…This isn’t so easy. You’re making this really hard for me,” you muttered
“We’re making it hard for you? Do you have any idea what you’ve done to us? Just completely cutting us out of your life because of some random girl you met a few months ago,” your mother accused you.
The guilt and self-doubt threatened to consume you, but you tried to focus on your anger instead. At least the anger would allow you to say what needed to be said, even if you couldn’t lay it out as calmly and clearly as you wanted.
“See, this is what I mean. Everything is always my fault and you never listen to what I have to say,” you defended yourself. “And Ana isn’t just some random girl. I can’t stand that you talk like this about someone I love, someone who I’m pretty sure is the love of my life.”
Your family exchanged meaningful glances, the sentiment on their faces clear as day; they thought you were being ridiculous or childish or dramatic. Three adjectives they loved using to describe you.
“You’re getting too emotional again, niña, that has always been your problem. How do you expect us to take you serious like this? And think about this, you say we’re always acting as if you’re the problem, but in reality it’s you doing that. You always blame everything on us, your horrible family. Poor you with parents, aunts and uncles that support you!”
Condescension was something you were used to, and it had always made you feel very tiny and incredibly mad at the same time. You were an adult for crying out loud, not a little kid. And still in that moment you felt exactly like that.
“Fine, you know what, I can see that this is totally pointless! I don’t even know why I thought I should try again. So I’m just going to tell you the one thing you need to know; once this season is over I’ll go to Mexico to play there. So I guess, see you never?” You yelled, turning around and stomping out of your childhood home, without giving your family any chance to reply. What was the point?
Tears were already streaming down your face as you ran down the street to where Ana was waiting. Your girlfriend saw you coming; she had been keeping an eye out for you practically from the moment you had kissed her goodbye.
When she saw you rushing towards her, Ana’s heart broke. She had hoped this would go better, but your demeanor and the fact that you were back so soon told her everything she needed to know.
Ana quickly clambered out of the car to meet you with open arms. You fell into them, allowing yourself a moment to completely lean into your girlfriend and absorb some strength from her. Not too long though, you didn’t want to risk anyone catching up with you.
“Come on, let’s go,” you requested, already moving to the passenger’s side.
The drive home was mostly silent, your girlfriend held your hand whenever she didn’t need both of them to drive, and only asked you in the very beginning if you were ready to talk. You just shook your head in response. First you would have some more crying to do, before you could even hope to use words.
And you did exactly that, once again safely tucked away in your girlfriend’s arms. You couldn’t wait to get to a point in your life where you didn’t need so much comfort anymore.
“How are you feeling?” Ana prompted once she noticed you were ready to talk. She had seen you biting your cheek, contemplating how to start the conversation and decided to help you out with questions.
“I didn’t have much hope to begin with, but apparently I still had some that could be crushed. And also…,” you stopped, uncertain if you should continue. It felt like you kept bringing up the same things; shouldn’t you get over them at some point?
“Also?”
There was nothing but love and concern on your girlfriend’s face. You didn’t have to worry about her judging you, this was a safe space.
“I’m so annoyed with myself. I couldn’t even say much before I ran away. I can just hear them calling me a dramatic little girl who runs away as soon as things get though”, you gritted out.
Ana tensed at your harsh words towards yourself and she forced herself to count to three before answering, not wanting to sound too intense. There was however nothing she could do about the emotions lingering in her voice.
“Please stop listening to their voices in your head. I don’t think removing yourself from a bad situation is running away, that’s a smart move really. You need to take care of yourself.”
You nodded thoughtfully, “You know I’ve been thinking about that and realized I often put their needs and wants over mine. But I guess putting others first only works if they do the same. Otherwise if I always put them first, but they never put me first, I’m just always going to end up last, right? I think that’s what’s been happening all my life and I’m done with it!”
“Absolutely! If anything your parents should be putting you, their child, first. That’s what my mom said when I talked about it with her. She also said some other things, but I’m not sure if you want to hear them or if it’ll just make you sad.”
Ana studied you carefully, every sign of pain embedded in your body hurting her as well. She hated how that you had to deal with this, so the last thing she wanted to do was to add any pain to it.
“No, please, tell me. I think it will be helpful, hearing what an actual good parent thinks about all of this,” you requested.
You had only met Ana’s parents twice before, but they had been everything you wanted your own family to be. They were excited to see their daughter, but expressed that without making her feel guilty for not being around more. And they had welcomed you with open arms, clearly very pleased that Ana had found a special someone to share her life with.
“She also said that nothing makes her happier than seeing us, her kids, living our best life. Not some life my parents pictured for us, but the life we choose. She can’t really understand why so many people try to force their kids to be something they’re not. According to her slowly getting to meet your children’s truest self is one of the biggest joys of them growing up.”
Your eyes filled with tears again causing your girlfriend distress. You had been sitting opposite each other, hands intertwined in between you, but now Ana pulled you into her embrace again.
“See, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything,” your girlfriend cried out.
You shook your head, “I wanted to hear that, I needed to hear that. It makes me feel less unreasonable and ungrateful.”
Ana gently kissed the top of your head, rubbing comforting circles on your back. “You’re anything but, you’re absolutely amazing.”
The longer you were with your girlfriend and the more she told you things like these, the easier it became to believe them. It wasn’t easy or natural yet, but you found yourself questioning your old beliefs much more often.
You didn’t speak more about it that evening, indulging in some self care instead. However, a few days later you recognized that it was still bothering you. There was no way you would try again, but it also didn’t feel right to shut the door to your family completely.
Surprisingly when you brought it up to Ana, one day after training when you were cuddling on the couch, you practically on top of your girlfriend, she informed you that she had been thinking about that as well.
“How about you set up an email account just for them? This way you can check it every once in a while when you feel up to it, or I can even check it if you prefer. That would allow them to contact you if they have a change of heart, but you aren’t constantly bombarded with unwanted messages.”
A huge weight was lifted from your heart when you heard this suggestion. That was precisely what you wanted, some small gap left open, but nothing that would affect you in your everyday life. The last thing you wanted was to constantly get attacked by hurtful messages.
You placed a few kisses everywhere on your girlfriend’s face, uttering one word between each kiss,”You. Are. The. Best. Girlfriend. In. The. World. And. I. Love. You. So. Much.”
Ana happily accepted your kisses. “So, no second thoughts about moving to Mexico?” She inquired cautiously.
“Not a single one, I’m so excited for it, and I won’t let my family ruin it. Plus it would be the same if I stayed here. If anything being not only in another country, but on another continent might actually be good for me.”
“Good, because I’m very excited about it,” your girlfriend announced with a big smile.
“Me too,” you agreed.
In fact you couldn’t wait to start that adventure with Ana. You had never allowed yourself to be an adventurous person, telling yourself, or really being told by your family, that you were anything but.
However, now you realized that you did have an adventurous streak and it was high time you used it. For too long you had lived the life everyone else wanted you to live, but now you were getting another chance at life, at the life you truly wanted.
You didn't even wait until you moved to Mexico. A few days before leaving, you dragged Ana to a hairdresser, stating that both of you should change up your look to start over fresh.
What you didn't expect though, was for your girlfriend to decide she wanted to color her hair pink. You had thought about something more along the lines of cutting your hair a little shorter.
But then Ana announced with a big grin that she was going pink, and you made a split second decision, telling the hairdresser to whip up some purple hair dye for you.
And that's how the two of your started off your new life, one of you pink haired and the other one purple. You loved the way it looked and couldn't care less when pretty much the first thing out of Jenni's mouth when she picked you up from the airport was, "Where are you two going? A five year old's birthday party?"
"Shut up, Jenni, you're just jealous of us," Ana retorted.
Jenni rolled her eyes, "Maybe, but I get a feeling you're going to help me get over that by annoying me with your lovey-doveyness."
"Absolutely," you agreed, pulling your girlfriend against yourself and kissing her passionately.
"Fine! I'll stop if you stop!" Jenni exclaimed, grabbing one hand from the both of you and marching you towards the exit. "Bienvenida a México, chicas!"
#woso#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso fanfics#ana maria crnogorcevic imagine#ana maria crnogorcevic x reader
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homecoming
summary: it's been almost three years. can james make up for the lost time?
pairing: james potter x slytherin!slughorn!reader (no use of y/n)
word count: 5.4k
warnings: language, injuries, the marauders' usual stupidity....
author's note: oof. this was a whole lot of work. i know this was supposed to be much longer, but there's a specific part (the one about james and reader getting together) that i just could not manage to finish. this can count as last chapter, but if i manage i will finish the other about them being in love and blah blah blah. unfortunately i am in a terrible writer's block so i don't know when or if i'll be able to finish it.
as always, my requests are open, so please feel free to request anything. bridgerton, hotd, got, hp, pjo.... ANYTHING. please help me get out of this writer's block lol. enjoy the reading even if i'm not really satisfied with it and, as always, english is not my first language, so constructive criticism is pleasantly accepted.
runaway | homecoming
James is utterly, unmistakably and without any doubt going to fail Potions.
It’s not his fault - not really. He doesn’t actually like Potions. He took the class, even after fifth year, for two reasons: his father and Lily Evans. The latter is the same reason why, right now, he’s failing it.
Fleamont, his father and a renowed potionist, looked so happy when James passed with the grades needed to take the class for the last two years. He didn’t actually think of taking it, but he looked at him like he expected him to do it and- it’s not like his parents ever forced him to do something he didn’t want to, but he was just so happy. James told himself that he could take Potions for just two more years if it meant them being so proud about it.
Besides, there was Lily Evans in the class. How could he deny himself of even more hours spent in her presence?
Well, guess what? Slughorn doesn’t grade based on who stares the longest time at Lily, apparently.
James stares at the burning red T on the parchment of his assignment. Troll. Until now, he thought that this achievement wasn’t within his reach, both because the grade Troll always sounds like an urban legend when other people talk about it and because he never had anything under Acceptable in his assignments. When Sirius hears about this, I’ll never hear the end of it. He didn’t even think Slughorn was able to put less than A, always too kind to his students.
“Man, what did you do to get Troll?” Marlene whispers beside him, frowning at his paper. James peeks at her test; a green O stands in the same place where his T is. “I suck at Potions, Potter, suck. And my dad surely didn’t invent the Sleekeazy’s Hair potion, so, tell me, did you do it on purpose? There’s no other reasonable explanation.”
The bell rings; the students immediately get up, happily chatting about the good grades that apparently everyone but him got, and James finds himself putting away his things without the usual vigor, already dreading the time when his friends will inevitably find out. Slughorn approaches him, taking pity for a boy which he saw grow up.
“Potter, it’s not the end of the world, don’t worry.” he tries to reassure, but his eyes say something else. They say ‘How the hell did you manage to take a T in my class?’ “I’m, erm, I’m sure you’ll be able to get better.” he looks at Lily, on the other side of the class, like he’s trying desperately to help him. “Evans, maybe you could give him some lessons?”
Lily sends an apologetic look at the professor, then a glare at James. “Sorry, professor. I would, but not for him.” She bids him goodbye and exits the class, Snape right after her. As Slughorn turns again to look at his students, he’s clearly concerned. “Merlin, Potter. What did you do to get Evans to hate you?”
He dramatically sighs. “I don’t know, professor. If you happen to find out, please let me know.”
The man sighs, taking out a napkin from his pocket and gently patting his forehead. “You have to get better, Potter. If you fail as a student, that means I fail as a teacher, too. Godric… this is the first Troll of my career. What will your dad think of me if you fail my class?”
James isn’t sure he wants to know. He’s never disappointed his parents before. “We have to find you a tutor, Potter, and a good one. I can’t give you extra lessons, I’m already busy enough as I am…” Yes, with the Slug Club, James almost replies; but then Slughorn looks like he just had the idea of the century.
“But of course!” he exclaims, happy to have found a solution. “My granddaughter!” he says your name, and James suddenly feels like a soldier being sent back to war. “She’s a year younger, but she knows everything, you see, I made sure of it… she’s more understanding of this subject than some licensed potionists out there, she could help you a lot, yes, yes… and you were friends, am I wrong? Good, good, she already knows you, I’m sure she won’t refuse…”
James is actually sure you will refuse.
Why? Because the last time you ever talked to each other, it ended up with a broken arm, a broken nose and two bruised egos. And even if technically, it wasn’t his fault, it doesn’t mean that your friendship magically mended itself over the years.
You two never interacted at school after what Remus calls The Accident, not really - the only form of contact you’d had was from Quidditch, where you were both playing as Chasers in your respective Houses, and more often than not during games happened to hit each other in a not-so-fair way. More than often professor McGonagall herself had to reprove him - and not only him, but Sirius too - for playing an unfair game. And when they tried to protest, saying that you surely weren’t innocent either, she just huffed.
“Miss Slughorn is not my responsibility; she’s professor Slughorn’s, and I’m sure he will make her understand her mistakes and she will not try again. But it is my duty to punish you for your deplorable behavior and lack of sporting spirit!”
It seems like McGonagall’s reprimanding did little, because Quidditch games become carnages.
It feels like Slytherin and Gryffindor rivalry is at its peak, and suddenly the violence reaches the school, too, and hallways are no longer safe from the squabbles of the students. Students who hang each other upside down and constantly cause fights to break out, ruining the usual peace of Hogwarts.
It looks like the teachers aren't really sure how to handle it. Dumbledore gives a long, heartbreaking speech about friendship, loyalty and helping each other, but it doesn't help much; a search for whoever told Dumbledore about the fights is started between the Houses, with the intention of… well, not making them say anything about it next time.
It honestly feels like war. Even Hufflepuffs start to attack to avoid being attacked - that's what happens when you constantly get picked on because you don't defend yourself, you guess.
Nobody is safe, but it's like between Gryffindor and Slytherin there's a feud. It was always there, ever since Godric and Salazar created their Houses, but it's getting out of hand.
The straw that breaks the camel's back is the last game of the year, fought between those two Houses.
In the first ten minutes, already three players were on the ground and wailing in pain. After a threat to disqualify anyone who dared to cheat from Madame Hooch, the game went on without much problems for a while; that was until James saw the golden snitch. Because apparently, you saw it too.
You both launch at the snitch, who keeps flying, unbothered, and even if you want to make James fall off the broom in the most violent way possible, you're able to hold yourself back. You follow the snitch, almost shoulder to shoulder, hands stretched out to catch the little flying bead.
A quaffle almost cuts your heads off. Thrown off balance, James falters for a moment, slowing down, and gives you some advantage; you clearly see the snitch going under the stands of Ravenclaw, creating a hole in the big banners of the House. You don’t really have time to think - you just go for it.
You speed towards the banner and tear an ever bigger rip on the poor Ravenclaw flag. James is fast to get back on your tail, though, barely dodging the wood beams that are holding together the structure. And suddenly you’re shoulder to shoulder again - for real, this time - pushing each other. Hooch can’t see what you’re doing, anyways.
It takes a moment to adjust to the lack of good lighting, but then you see it: the golden snitch, speeding right in front of you, blinking in the little light, almost mocking you. You hold your hand in front of you, and already can imagine the victory - oh, suck it, Gryffindors-
The snitch takes an abrupt turn, hitting James right on the nose, knocking him out and making him fall from the broom. Except, before he actually falls off, he manages to take a hold of the cloak of your uniform, taking you down with him.
Meanwhile, Madame Hooch notices that not only one, but both Chasers just disappeared in thin air. “Black!” she yells, not really thinking about the fact that there’s two Black in the pitch right now, “Go and tell them to get out from under the stands, dear Merlin…”
Regulus and Sirius speed at the same time towards the rip on the banner, which now is basically a full-on opening to under the stands, clanking shoulders in the process.
You don't think you've ever felt pain like this before. Your left arm is throbbing, feeling like it’s going to fall off any minute now, and your head has never hurt so much since you can remember. A sob falls out of your lips before you can hold it in, and suddenly you’re crying out in pain, not really knowing what to do. James is hovering over you the second you start sobbing, worried as you’ve never seen him, taking a hold of your face as gently as he can. Blood is gushing out of his nose, going over his chin and staining both your uniforms. His glasses lay somewhere near, surely broken.
“What hurts? Is it- oh dear Merlin, your arm, it’s-” well, if not even James, who suffered countless Quidditch injuries over the years, can describe the condition of your arm, then it’s probably not something you’d ever wish upon your worst enemy.
You try to regain your self-control, even if your sight is blurry from the tears and your voice feels like it’s gone. Then, before you can try to say anything, yells come from the direction in which you both just came.
“I told you, she was looking at me!”
“Yeah, dumbass, like we weren’t side to side when she yelled our surname!”
“Aren’t you tired of always following me? It’s a miracle you didn’t convince the Hat to put you in Gryffindor, you little rat-”
“Oh, so I’m a rat? What about your friend that literally turns into one?”
“I see Snivellus has filled you in with the details-”
“You know, it’s pretty given since one of your friends could possibly hurt us just because the moon is big-”
“Remus wouldn’t hurt a fly, you little shi-”
They both come to a stop once they see you two, looking like a living crime scene, but even then they don’t really stop arguing - they never will, probably. Regulus is by your side in a moment, pushing away James, all the while screaming at his brother. “Why do you always have to be like this? Can’t you just shut up for once, you son of a-”
“We’ve got the same parents, dipshit!”
“No we don’t! According to your words, you found me in a dumpster, remember?”
Sirius winces. For what is maybe the first time in years, he looks sorry. “Aw, c’mon now. You know I was kidding.”
“Yeah, yeah, you say that now, but you didn’t tell that to the Gryffindors that started teasing me about it, nor did you try to correct them.” Regulus stares at your arm, who is in an unnatural position, and starts asserting the damage. “Merlin. Can you get up on your own? C’mon, I’ll help you,”
He helps you get up and wipes away your tears, while your sobs reduce to muffled sniffs, and takes your broom from where it fell so that you can return to the pitch. “We’ve gotta take you to the infirmary, it’s not looking good…” he spares a look at James, “And maybe you should visit Madam Pomfrey too, Potter, but if you die from blood loss I’m sure we’ll manage just fine without you.”
As Reg helps you stabilize yourself on the broom and to get back out there, James feels completely numb.
He once was the one that managed to make you stop crying, that helped you back up on your feet when you fell and scraped your knee. The one you’d look for when you searched for help, comfort or someone to talk to. Now, as he watches you fly away with Regulus, who holds a hand on your back to keep you stable, he barely hears the screams of the students in the stands and the words of Sirius, who’s trying to snap him out of his daze.
“James? Hey, mate, you okay? You’re covered in blood.”
He barely even sees him - his vision is clouded with tears, tears that he desperately tries to hold back. Taking a deep breath, he collects the remnants of his glasses and takes his broom, knowing that if he talks, he’ll start sobbing. But Sirius doesn’t get the memo.
“Did she throw you off? I bet she did, but karma has your back. She deserved it, believe me, she had to learn her lesson in a way or another.” James hopes that he stops there, because the guilt’s already eating him alive and he just wants to lie down and let the floor swallow him whole. Hearing Sirius insult you for something you had no fault in doesn’t help the already disastrous situation. But his friend apparently still has many things to say left in his repertory. “She has to be terrible to befriend by brother. Saw how she was crying, like she’s the victim? I swear-”
“Could you please fucking shut that trap, man?” James bursts. “I made her fall, okay? It’s my fault she was hurt. Stop insulting her.”
Sirius glares at him. “What is your problem, man?”
“What is my problem? My problem?” James laughs in disbelief, tears streaming down his face. “My problem is that you always think you know what’s going on, don’t you?”
His friend is about to reply, but he doesn’t let him. “No you don’t! You have no idea what we went through together, nor what happened between us, nor what person she is! So you have no right to criticize her for everything she does, even when she has no fault in the matter!”
James ends up in the infirmary with a fractured nose, barely two beds away from you, who actually have no intention of talking to him at all, and made sure he knew that. You stayed there a lot more days than him, but your friends visited every time they were able to, bringing sweets and flowers. They also skillfully ignored James, who instead laid there sulking while you got pampered by Lily.
He did try to talk to you after you were dismissed from the medical ward, at least to say sorry for having broken your arm, but you ignored him with all your might. Regulus became your mediator, always telling him off, never leaving your side when he saw James near.
Him and Sirius didn’t talk for a while, but it didn’t last long. Soon they got back to talking like normal, never addressing the things that were said during that game. Sirius stopped talking about you, going as far as avoiding his brother too to not cause any more damage than he already did.
He made a last, desperate attempt at your forgiveness by writing you a letter - I know you don’t want to talk to me, but if you ever happen to need a friend, i’ll always be there for you - and sending it to you with his owl.
You never replied.
That was a year ago, and that’s also why James is sure you’ll say no.
Except you say yes.
James is at Sprout’s class when Slughorn knocks and pokes his head in. “I’m sorry, Pomona, could I borrow Potter for a moment?”
Professor Sprout stares disappointed but not surprised at James, motioning for him to go. “You better not have set the Slytherin dormitories on fire again, Potter,” she hisses. Slughorn happily shakes his head, “Ah, don’t worry, Pomona, he still hasn’t done it again, I’m here just to discuss a little something with him.”
Once he’s out of the class, Slughorn happily takes out a letter from his pocket and gives it to him. “My granddaughter agreed to give you lessons, and gave me some days and times that go with her schedule. She’s often busy studying for the O.W.L.s, as you surely know, so it’s a tight fit, but I’m certain you’ll manage.”
James is honestly dumbfounded. All this time ignoring him, acting like he didn’t exist, and suddenly you’re aware of him and his struggles? He must be dreaming. He opens the letter and reads the schedule:
Monday — 18:00 - 19:00
Wednesday — 15:00 - 16:30
Friday — 11:00 - 12:30
Sunday — 13:00 - 15:30
You must have read his weekly schedule, too, because it all strangely fits well with his lessons. Under the voice Sunday, there’s a little note: All lessons will take place in the library, except for Sunday, when we’ll go to professor Slughorn’s class to practice the actual making of the potions.
The idea of spending so much of his free time making potions is almost revolting, but the thought of making it up to you makes it all worth it. He’ll spend time with you - almost eight hours a week - until his grades are decent enough or you get tired of him. I won’t let it happen, he promises to himself. You won’t get tired of him, and if he has to seal Sirius’ mouth shut to keep you around, then he gladly will.
He comes back to the class with a triumphant smile plastered on his face, making his friends frown - even if no one is more confused than professor Sprout. “Potter, are you alright?” she asks, worriedly. Usually when he got called out of class it was because of some prank gone wrong, so it wasn’t strange for the teachers to just take their time to yell at him. He nods, shining with anticipation. “Never been better, professor.”
“You didn’t set the Slytherin dormitories on fire, did you?”
“Absolutely not, professor.”
“A- alright.”
But it’s only when he notices that James stopped looking at Lily Evans that Sirius actually gets worried. He bumps his shoulder, whispering, “What did Slughorn tell you?” he waves him off, “Nothing important, I’ve got extra lessons in Potions.” He still hasn’t told any of the Marauders about the Troll, and he’s surprised himself on how well he managed to keep the secret. Even more surprised at Marlene for not telling anyone - he’ll probably have to buy her something as a thank you, as she rarely does something for him for free.
James spends the rest of the week waiting for Monday, often thinking about it with a dreamy look on his face, always making his friends frown and then check if Lily was around. Strangely, more often than not she wasn’t even in the same room.
Monday eventually rolls around, and James has never been happier to enter the library. He may have entered it like, two times since first year, but as of now he’s ready to live in it if it means seeing you more.
He waits at one of the tables feeling like an idiot, and maybe he is, but also a lucky one. You’re late by almost ten minutes, and he thinks that this may be the first time a girl stands him up.
But, surprisingly enough, you show up.
You're with Regulus - and that makes him seethe, but he's ready to make a point of bearing his presence if that's the price to pay to get you back.
Talking about you; your hands are full of books that stand in a shaky pile leaning on your chest. You're chatting with your friend, your brows furrowed, the strap of your bag almost falling off of your shoulder. You notice James, then, and as he grins, your brows furrow even deeper. You look tired - he’s not really surprised, he remembers the struggle of the O.W.L.s; he’s surprised that you’re able to stand up, as he vividly recalls not being able to do that last year in this same period of time.
“Potter,” you and Regulus greet at the same time. You let the books fall on the table, huffing, and he interjects, “For you it’s James,” he replies smiling cheerfully. Then he turns to Regulus, frowning, “To you, it is Potter.”
The boy rolls his eyes, “Yeah, that’s what I called you. Even if to me, you’re Dickhead.”
You blink, not amused, at James. “Keep insulting my friends and I’ll do my best to make you fail Potions.”
James lets out a squeal. “Please don’t.”
The first lesson is strange. There’s tension in the air - maybe it’s just the glares that Regulus and James are sending each other the whole time - but it feels refreshing to have your presence near again. You don’t even seem to hate him anymore; you just act… indifferent. You don’t laugh at his jokes, not even when he bashes Sirius - even if he sees Regulus holding himself back from laughing - and just explain everything he did wrong in his assignments to him, explaining some concepts and basics.
Once the clock ticks to 19 o’clock, you’re already putting your things away, chatting with Regulus about dinner; you barely spare James a glance as you exit the library, He’s feeling lost - suddenly he would like to ask his little self how he would feel about you not being friends with him anymore. He’s sure that eight-years-old James would cry for a week straight and then beg on his knees for forgiveness, and is also sure that you probably wouldn’t have forgiven him nonetheless.
But that’s okay. He never liked easy challenges.
If it wasn’t for your grades in Transfiguration, you would have happily let James rot in the depths of Hell.
When your grandfather asked you to please help the Potter boy, you had been against it. Refusing profusely, like your life depended on it; you promised to yourself you’d never let him back in your life, not after he pulled that stunt on the Quidditch pitch, a stunt of which your grandad is still blissfully unaware of. But then again, Horace Slughorn is still Horace Slughorn, and he pulled one of his many favors like you were one of his prizes on the nightstand.
One of his many friends is, apparently, the inspector for the Transfiguration trial of the O.W.L.s. He promises that he can make him give you an O on the only subject you’re barely Acceptable in.
It’s wrong. Maybe. But it would be stupid to pass down an opportunity like this just because of a personal grudge. You’re not ready to ruin your whole grade sheet just by refusing. Because of what? Of a boy? Not happening.
So you have to agree, and your grandfather is eager to shower you in kisses and hugs, gushing about how you saved his career. You’re pretty sure the Troll hurts James more than him, but choose not to say anything about it. You go through your schedule and his - just so that he can’t complain about the time and start arguing with you again - and manage to find some hours where the both of you are free, even if it was pretty hard considering all the study groups you took part of in preparation for the O.W.L.s.
The first lesson is unbearable. He tried so hard to be funny and he didn’t even understand that to you, he is not. You don’t think he will ever be to you again. Everytime he opened his mouth you just thought about every time that he called you stupid just because you were making friends on your own, friends that he didn’t like.
You know that sometimes kids say stupid things, wrong things, just because they are kids and don’t really know the real weight of words. Maybe he regretted it, as Remus often tells you; in-fact, despite the bad experience with his friends, Lupin actually became somewhat of a friend to you, sometimes updating you on James’ life.
(“He broke his ankle going down the stairs,” he told you once. You had snorted, “Really? I wish it was his face.”
He actually laughed.
Sometimes you think Remus is too smart for the Marauders; too sensitive to be with friends like them. But you don’t dare to say anything, because if you did, you’d be no better than James.)
Thankfully on Tuesday there’s no lesson, but you do have a study session with some Ravenclaws to put together Sprout’s notes to try to understand whatever the fuck she taught last lesson. On your way to the garden, it’s actually Remus that stops you.
He looks terrible. His eyes are red, his hair mussled, and his uniform looks more wrinkled than usual. “Please, just get this over with,” he pleads, and for a moment, you think he’s about to fall to his knees and beg you. You blink. “Get over with what?”
His left eye twitches. “Do you have any idea of what I went through last night, woman?”
You raise an eyebrow at his antics. “No. Should I?”
He lets out a scream that holds all the stress of sixth year in it, and that makes many students in the hallway turn to glare at him. “Your bloody student! He talked my ear off all night! All night! I didn’t get a blink of sleep, he made sure to usurp my bunk and knew how to keep me there! I have an important test today, and I swear, if I fail it, I’m gonna say to McGonagall that it’s your fault!”
You gasp. “But I didn’t do anything!”
“Well, tell that to James, because he probably hasn’t understood that your lack of response to his jokes isn’t because you’re reminiscing about your friendship, but because you simply don't find them funny!”
You notice something and try to stop him. “Remus-”
“He spent hours talking about how he’s so happy to finally be able to be friends with you again! Hours! I haven’t slept in three days because of my exams and now this! Could you just tell him that you didn’t agree to the lessons because you want to be friends with him again, please?”
“Uh…” the voice comes from behind him and Remus freezes, recognizing James’ voice. Your face is contorted into a frown, knowing that you tried your best to warn him. You don’t care about the fact that he heard that you have no intention of becoming friends with him again; you care about the fact that he has heard one of his friends talking about him like this.
How ironic is it that he warned me so much about my friends, but the first one to dismiss his feelings like that is one of his closest friends?
Remus pales. James’s usual tan complexion is a bit paler than usual, too; it probably isn’t nice hearing all your thoughts and hopes being screamed in the hallway, for anyone to hear. “James, I…”
But he’s already going the opposite direction, and you’re pretty sure that you saw tears in his eyes. Remus runs after him, spluttering a spring of apologies, and then they both disappear behind the walls of the Castle.
Pandora, who was near there when Remus started shouting, approaches you. “What happened?”
You sigh. For the first time in years, you feel bad for James - maybe you even pity him. And that is not a good thing. “Dunno, Dora,” you mutter, deep in thought. “Men are strange creatures.”
Xenophilius Lovegood passes by, and Pandora sighs dramatically. “Oh, don’t tell me.”
You almost expect James not to show up to the lesson the day after, but he does. He does and this time he’s silent, not joking around, only opening his mouth to ask you questions. Now, you do pity him; you know he has really bonded with the Marauders. James is one of those people who manage to be friends with everybody, but not actually friends; he doesn’t bond that easily. He has a lot of acquaintances and knows nearly every student, yes, but he can count on the fingers of his hands the people he actually considers to be his friends.
It’s strange how you know so many things about him, even after all this time. You fear you may never be able to forget them; that James will remain etched on your brain, a stain in your younger years that never managed to go away.
“I’m sorry about what happened yesterday.” you mutter, not even knowing where the words came from. He looks surprised, not expecting them either from you, not after all that Remus said.
“Yeah,” he blurts out. “I… should’ve expected it, actually. S’not like you have ever actually shown interest in me after… y’know.”
Your thoughts go back to the letter he wrote you: I know you don’t want to talk to me, but if you ever happen to need a friend, i’ll always be there for you. You know it’s not much, but you think that maybe, just maybe, you can put your grudge away for a moment, just because he really looks like he needs a friend right now, and since Remus at the moment is out of the picture, Peter isn’t really good with these types of things and Sirius is… well, Sirius, maybe you need to step in.
You hastily get up, going around the table and sitting right beside him. “Remus said things he didn’t think in a moment of stress,” you try to console him. He’s flushed from when you sat down next to him, probably not expecting this move from you, but pleasantly surprised.
He blinks at you for a moment, and you almost want to take everything back. But then he smiles, a smile so tender that it could melt ice. “You always tried to make me feel better when we were younger, too,” he sniffs. You put a tentative hand on his shoulder, “We can try being friends again, James, and I mean it. But this time the Marauders have to stay out of it. You, of course, can stay friends with them, but you have to understand that I've got friends out of us just as much as you have friends out of us.”
He nods, but then his lower lip trembles and his eyes shine with tears. “You know,” he starts, stammering, “I don’t think anyone gets me like you understood me.”
Of course they don't, you want to say. Something like our friendship happens one time in a lifetime, James. You don’t get to grow up with your best friend every day. James sniffs, “Sirius maybe comes close to it. But I can’t talk to him about you because that’s when he starts to not understand me. Remus… well, I found out yesterday that he actually can’t stand my constant yapping. Peter always looks at me like I’m crazy.” he suddenly looks up, an alarmed look on his face. “Am I? Crazy, I mean.”
You wince. “I mean, you look sane enough to me.” no he doesn't, his eyes are blood-shot and he looks like he hasn't had a moment to relax since yesterday. But you can't just say that to him. “James, I think you rely too much on your friends. Usually it's a good thing - it means you trust them and all - but sometimes you just have to make decisions by yourself. Remus can listen to you all you want, but he can't solve your problems for you.”
You know that him and Remus will probably resolve and then get back to their friendship like nothing happened, but James looks at you with eyes full of unshed tears. He looks like a baby deer. “Are we solved?”
You melt. “We can be.”
#harry potter imagine#harry potter fanfic#james potter fanfic#james potter#james potter fanfiction#pizzapottah's writing#james potter x reader#james potter x slytherin!readeer#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#harry potter fanfiction#marauders era fanfic#marauders era#james potter imagine
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MATSUKAWA RELATIONSHIP HCS
gn!reader, timeskip mentions | 4 whoevah asked! 🫵👍
waits until you're distracted/busy before suddenly saying shit like "first one to get to the lineup gets to pick extra snacks" at the grocery store
eats your leftover food if you can't finish
works hard to take you to a fancy restaurant on one of your first dates... doesn't know which ones are actually good so he's on reddit researching, texting the seijoh 4 gc, etc etc. he dresses up too... he wants to make sure you're happy and treated well 🙁
issei isn't super into or against pda,, he's happy if you're happy. most of the time it'll be an arm draped around your shoulder while you're sitting together or casual hand holding. he isn't opposed to a quick kiss either! :3
if you show him one of those videos that are like,, "if you know your partner, which one would they choose?" and he gets it wrong issei's like "?? tf are u sure" as if it isn't Your choice
he isn't used to getting gifts. if you give him a gift his first thought (fear) is that he's forgotten some kind of anniversary. but you tell him it's just because you thought of him and he gets all flustered and can't keep eye contact 🙁 you catch him glancing at/playing with the gift for the rest of the day
^ him with a lot of stuff actually LOL he tries to hide how Not Chill he is it's so cute 😭 you ask him to hold something but your hand is empty and you just interlock fingers? he's like wow okay if you wanted me you could've just said so As if his ears aren't red hshsdbshs
denies crying over a sad movie as he takes the tissue box from you (refuses to look at you until he's wiped his tears) (looks at you with red eyes and sniffles and says It's not even that sad)
says he'll take a photo of you then takes a selfie LOL
^ you'll have to show him how to take good photos... or learn together... he promises he's a quick learner + he thinks you look good in all of them
takes your compliments/comments to heart. you say his hair looks nice grown out and he takes a few extra seconds messing with it in the mirror, pushing off a haircut for a little longer. you say his new jacket looks great and he's like yeah of course it does,, then reaches for it more often than planned at its original purchase.
i think timeskip mattsun would worry about sharing certain stories from work ;; like... would it upset you (more than him)? did you have a rough day and would he make it worse? he keeps it pretty vague until you ask him to share because you can tell it's been big on his mind
mattsun's not one to care about what side of the bed he sleeps on (it's just the one is closest to a charging port) until you're together. like if you pick a side yourself, it becomes a habit for him to slide into the other even times you aren't sharing a bed. it just doesn't feel right anymore bdhsjdbsj
you know those trends where you ask the other person/people to draw flowers or stars for your lockscreen. he just sends a shitty dick drawing LOL. but he ends up spending super long on decent flowers after i promise. scrunching his eyebrows, moving his finger really slow, picking good colours and everything... even pulls up references. yeagh
sees you online listening to sad music and texts "you up?" in hopes of distracting you. he gets away with coincidental timing the first couple of times, but you figure it out. not that this changes anything (other than maybe his text to "you wanna talk?") — mattsun continues as an offer / reassurance he's there if you'd like him to be
so supportive. SO SUPPORTIVE. you have a big project you're working on? he's checking on you and complimenting you with every day of work, even if he isn't knowledgeable on it himself. you get a promotion or offer you've always wanted? you have to celebrate—you deserve it!! you have a big game coming up? he's in the stands with your jersey on and he's brought his friends to cheer too
^ he isn't really one to Jump for Joy, but he'll be grinning so big, and always matches your energy. (you like hugs and kisses? you got them! you'd rather a solid high-five or verbal praise? that's good with him too! he just wants you to know he's happy and proud of you)
^ actually he might jump for joy. a little. not in a YAHOO! YIPPEE!! way but in a LET'S GOOOOOO way.
you ask to meet the seijoh team and he's like. begging the universe no one's gonna embarrass him. everyone's like No way someone wants to date our mattsun?! Are you sure?! and he's 😐
^ tries to act cool in front of you. gets called out like "lmfao what are you doing" "so obvious" "okay mr. tough guy?" "blocked a ball and thinks he's hot" WBDJSNSSJ
^ brightens when you tell him he Is very cool and you like watching him. shoots his team a look and says something about how they're all single LOL
doesn't post you a lot, but he doesn't really post in general so the ratio of you on his profile is still great tbh. maybe for anniversaries or if he took a really good photo—keeps it minimal and won't write long paragraphs. adds a couple blurry or 0.5x pictures if you're okay with it
accidentally kicks you while he's napping and apologizes even though you swore he was deep asleep shdbsbns
lets you have the window seat. he doesn't actually care that much (since it's you) but he makes a scene of giving it up for you /silly /he's smiling
issei always does his first karaoke song with you if you're there. the first time it happens he doesn't even ask he just hands you the second mic and you're like wait what ??? LOL
gets scared if you say his full name. skips right over confusion and freezes like a deer in headlights even if he hasn't done anything
middle guy for autographs.. LMFAO 😭😭 like what do you mean you know oikawa tooru and iwaizumi hajime who then knows msby etc etc. you show up and say his name like :)) isseii?? :)) and he's like 🙄 Who's asking now. you know you know them too right. /lh
bro does not decorate. imagine unpacking for your new shared apartment and you're like ?? is that really all your stuff. and he's like ....Yeah??.. a lot of the things on his desk/around the house were bought together or by you
i write hcs and im like wowww what a respectable post length and then i realize how long the points are and im like FAWK??!?! ur telling me i DONT actually have that many ?!?!?! so i keep adding more and thats why i take so long. then i stare at myself like GIRL GET IT TOGETHER!! EVERY TIME!!! 🙁🙁🙁
#haikyuu x reader#matsukawa x reader#haikyuu fluff#matsukawa fluff#i was reading my old relationship hc posts and. ??? how was i so creative w some of them Hzbekwbsjskw#comebackkk 😭😭 thoughts and ideas come back to mee 😭😭😭#i was supposed to schedule this earlier but i forgot. heyyyyy everybody#pls tell me if theres typos.guysg.
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image credit: c2299cLance on Twitter
The above image is from the Episode 2x05 insider. And boy oh boy do I (did I?) have a question about this.
Because if that really is the book being published in the present day . . . then that pretty much upends the format of the show. Because the book being published means there is absolutely no reason for Daniel to stick around Dubai anymore IMO. Because why would he? His job is done.
And truth be told, I've long thought the interview would be finished in episode 2x08. That Daniel would finish it, and talk about heading home to being writing and editing it.
However, I never really thought he would actually leave. Because Daniel's character basically does leave the story at the end of Interview with the Vampire. And we don't see him again until Queen of the Damned, during the chase. (And we already know Season 3 is The Vampire Lestat).
But I really couldn't work out how the show could ever have that happen -- because that basically means Daniel's character leaving the show for a time. Possibly a long time, as time jumps just to account for the book being published would have to happen. And that, well . . .
See, I very much noticed how much Daniel's Parkinson's was making him shake this episode (2x05). And I in no way think Armand and Daniel are doing the Devil's Minion chase in the current day with Daniel having Parkinson's during a pandemic (which is still going on in the show's timeline). Sorry, no, not happening IMO. Because there is no damn reason for Armand to chase Daniel now, IMO. The reason Armand even did so in the first place was because he found Daniel fascinating/interesting. And well, as we just saw in episode 2x05 that already happened. It makes no sense that Armand would wait 50 freakin' years to follow up on that with a chase around the world.
So the book being published at the end of the interview always meant, to me, that it would mean bye-bye to Eric from the show. Which, I was NOT looking forward to. Because I honestly couldn't see any reason for Daniel's character to stick around, at least in Dubai, never mind the next part of the story. Especially if Lestat isn't going to be in Dubai and we might have to start doing freakin' time jumps to account for the publication of books.
And, once again, Daniel has a degenerative disease. That, once again, I noticed very well how much he was shaking from. So unless Devil's Minion really didn't happen in the past, there really was no way for Daniel to enter or be part of the story going forward. Because yes, I very much think Armand is going to be prepared to let Daniel leave Dubai and not stop him. Right now, Armand is very focused on keeping his life as it is in Dubai, and I think part of that is due to him not thinking Daniel would ever really remember anything of the past anyway.
So yeah, if that prop is for the book actually being published in the modern-day, I was already beginning to mourn Daniel leaving the show. Because from how I looked at it, I couldn't figure out any reason why his character would stay in Dubai, around these vampires anymore. Right now, if Daniel leaves Dubai, he leaves the show IMO. And probably for a good long while, given where the story is going. (With maybe Armand coming to see Daniel later at some point when he's dying to turn him or something, IDK).
And then, I was reminded -- by @nalyra-dreaming -- of this picture that Eric posted on Twitter a few months back:
And it all began to click.
Because for a real time there, for a few weeks at least after Eric first posted this, I seriously thought that Daniel's character was going to, well die.
Between the posting of this picture by Eric as well as a few other things, no joke, I was getting a real vibe about it, that Daniel was going to die this season . . . but not stay dead of course. I just held back on talking about it because it felt so damn early, story-wise, for it to happen.
And then something during the lead-up to the more recent press events made me stop thinking Daniel would die. And that Daniel's turning still wouldn't happen for a few more seasons yet.
But now . . . if the book really is going to be published . . .
I think it's going to be published posthumously. Or, at least, posthumously to the human world.
Because why would Daniel stick around in Dubai if the book is published? As we saw in the preview for next week, he's already saying to Justin Kirk he wants to get out of this alive. The minute he's done with the interview he's leaving, make no mistake about that. So why would Daniel stay?
Well, becoming an undead vampire would do it.
So everyone who wanted Eric's Daniel to become a vampire? You might actually be getting your wish this season. Because if those books above really are real and Daniel really is publishing it in the modern-day . . . then the only reason I can think of for him to not only stay in Dubai/on the show but not visibly age -- or get sicker like Daniel very much would wrt such time jumps that would require not only a publication of such a book but for Lestat to see it, read it, etc -- is this. Daniel becomes a vampire at the end of this season.
Because otherwise, IMO? There is no other reason for his character to stick around. Not from anything else I've thought of so far at least that would make any type of sense.
And what is going to force Armand's hand into turning Daniel? (Because yes, I do still think it's going to be Armand who does it) Well, very likely this . . .
gif credit: @hermit-frog
I already thought Daniel was going to get hurt when it came to this happening. But now I think Daniel getting hurt will be the least of it . . .
#Daniel Molloy#Eric Bogosian#Armand#The Vampire Armand#Devil's Minion#The Devil's Minion#iwtv Season 2#iwtv Season 2 speculation#iwtv spoilers#and if something else happens in the finale -- yeah I see the parallel show#which was one of the reasons I saw why this could happen a few months back . . .
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I've now received four (four!!!) different copies of my fic, bound and illustrated by different artists---and there's still a deep, almost reverential feeling I get when I hold them in my hands, lay them out. Ironically for the subject matter, they feel decidedly holy. After all, where else am I going to get proof that I did this---even if "tell a story about music and the devil" is one of the sillier things you can do to occupy your time.
But to be less vague, this is the kind gift of @fleabitebooks / @kettle-bird! They reached out to me a few months ago, saying they wanted to bind my Devil Went Down to Georgia fic, and would I like a copy too? As I would never say no to a gift like that, I gleefully accepted.
If you've been following me long enough, you've seen their art in my Cornstalk Fiddle tag, and I am pleased to say that the images lose none of their power. I think the choice to stick to a limited color palette works beautifully here---the golden-yellow of the title pages and the larger art almost seeps through the paper. With the crisp lineart and shading, it ends up being both lovely and vaguely ominous, a sign of the eldritch things moving around/beneath the story.
(Also, I realize this is not a major aspect, but....I love how truly awkward-looking the Devil is. He looks like a Southern Gentleman, and I love that touch of weakness in his jaw.)
I also deeply adore some of the design choices---chapter 3 starting with the cornstalk fiddle and the triumphant starburst of golden-yellow? The white snakeskin-threaded-with-gold pattern used to bind the book? The way the paragraph breaks and endsheets are music? Amazing. Just amazing.
Maybe I should revise what I said above. Yes, having your silly fic about a country song turned into a physical book is proof that you did it, finished it---but it's also proof that someone else did too. In this case, @kettle-bird sat down with my fic and carefully copied it, played with fonts (oh, those are fantastic too by the way!) and spacings and margins; they drew art, colored it; laced the book together, made and bound the cover, then shipped it off to me.
Which means....if I did this, then I was hardly the only one.
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I love your latest story about Rhea...Brat tamer Rhea is probably my favorite, and I loved how she handled the situation...Please do more one shots about it (the little brat inside me needs it )🥺
Tamer
Mommy!Rhea ripley x little!fem!reader
Warnings: reader being a brat, age regression, punishments, spanking
“Y/n eat your veggies please. I don’t want to have to keep saying it again.” Rhea pleaded with you but you were being stubborn. “Nu! Nu wan to! It yuckies…” you pouted and whined. Rhea sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before warning you one last time. “This is your last warning princess. Eat your vegetables or I’ll have to punish you.” She said and you shook your head. Rhea sighed and got up and went over to you, grabbing your arm and putting you in the corner. “You stay here for five minutes do you understand?” Rhea instructed you and you pouted, not saying anything to her.
She lightly smacked you on your bottom to get your attention “words baby.” She demanded and you squeaked out a yes. Rhea nodded and went back to the table to finish her food. You on the other hand was feeling brave today and left the corner, going to your room to play. Five minutes have past and Rhea looked behind her to praise you for being good and taking your punishment well but when she looked, she saw a empty corner. She felt herself get angry but calmed down, not wanting to scare you. She got up from the table and went to your play room to find you sitting on the floor coloring with your stuffies.
“Baby…how long have you’ve been in here?” Rhea asked and you shrugged your shoulders, ignoring her question. She sighs angrily and leans down to close your coloring books. “Hey!” You said whining and Rhea gave you a stern glare to be quiet, which this time you did listen. She helped you stand on your fit and walked you into the bedroom. “Sit.” She demanded and you sat at the end of the bed. “When did you leave the corner baby. I know that you know.” She asked and you grew whiny and irritated again. “Don’t Nu! Didn’t wan to bes in da corners!” You exclaimed and rhea looked at you blankly.
Rhea walked over to you and grabbed your face between her fingers and looked deep into your eyes. “You better start telling me the truth little girl. Don’t make me spank it out of you.” She threatened and you gave her a shaky smirk, wanting to test her. “You are such a fucking brat.” She spat and sat on the bed and moved you over her lap. She pulled down your shorts and underwear in one swift motion. “You better start counting little one.” She grunted and started spanking you. By the end of it you were crying and begging for her to stop. She did about twenty in total and you only messed up once. Rhea pulled you up and sat you down gently on her lap, softly rubbing your red bottom as you cry in her neck.
“Do you know why I had to punish you?” She asked and you didn’t reply, still crying in her neck. Her heart broke to hear your cries. “I did it because you were not being my good girl that I know you are. You kept disrespecting and disobeying me and I won’t have that.” She explained to you and soon enough all Rhea could hear was little sniffles coming out of you. She stood up with you in her arms and walked to the bathroom. She got some cream to help with the redness and pain on your ass. Rhea started applying it all over your bum and you let out little whimpers here and there but Rhea was extremely gentle with you. She kept you in her arms when she put the cream away and carried you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen again.
“How about this. You eat most of your veggies and you and me will go out to get your favorite ice cream. How about that princess?” She tried to reason with you and you stilled whined a bit but nodded your head yes anyway. After a few minutes you had ate most of your veggies and Rhea was beaming with pride. “Good job baby! Mommy is so proud of you! Let’s get dressed and we’ll go get some ice cream.” She explained and you clapped your hands happily as y’all went upstairs to get dressed. The two of you came back down and went outside to rheas truck where she put you in the backseat and buckled you into your booster seat. The rest of the night was you and Rhea eating your ice cream outside of the place and then driving home to cuddle until the two of you went to sleep.
A/n: I hope this is what you wanted anon and I hope the rest of you enjoyed! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all :)
#rhea ripley x fem reader#rhea ripley x fem!reader#mami rhea#rhea ripley x you#rhea ripley fluff#rhea ripley smut#rhea ripley x reader#rhea ripley imagine#rhea ripley#mommy!rhea ripley x little!reader#mommy!rhea ripley#daddy!rhea ripley#demi bennett x fem!reader#demi bennett x reader#demi bennett#wwe
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