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kai-anderson-whore · 1 year

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writing prompt: Adult world au in which Alex dumps the character played by Emma Roberts and starts dating the reader but the reader doesn't even know Alex likes her until he shows up at her apartment

Ripping off the band-aid (alex adult world x fem reader)

Warnings: none

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•. .•°˚˚°

Another long day at work, you didn't exactly hate your job nor liked it, one because it's a sex store, so you felt awkward with things, but what got you through it was alex he was a good friend who mentored you.

You both shared a love for art, spending time outside of work painting and what not, you were close friends, recently alex broke up with amy not long after she left the store for another job in a different state he said they were naturally drifting apart anyway so they weren't too bummed about it.

You and alex grew more closer a strong bond between you both, going to each others places after work to paint ect.

Alex loved your company in work, and outside of work, he grew to have feelings for you, he never voiced them to you scared you never felt the same about him, but little did he know you infact did.

You grew feelings for him when you first met him on your first day of work whilst he was with amy but he never knew, you thought if you can be friends then that's enough for you.

Stocking the shelfs with the latest "flims" making sure they go in the correct place, "Hey y/n there's a party tonight if you want to go?" Alex asked scratching the back of his neck waiting on your answer.

"Not tonight alex I'm not really feeling up to partying tonight maybe another time" you smiled politely, Alex's smile fading for only a split second, "Yeah that's cool- hey are you okay" he asked wanting to double check if your okay which made you smile.

"Yeah I'm okay alex just not I'm the partying mood tonight plus I have a shift early in the morning" you chuckled placing the last dvd on the shelf, "and done" you sighed.

Now your shift was over able to close the store for the night, "closing time" alex said staring to lock the place up, "finally I'll need to walk my dog once I'm back" you said, "Oh yeah how is bruiser anyway" he asked talking about your pit bull bruiser.

"He's great actually his paw is healing well and he's out and about now" you said your dog hurt his paw a few weeks ago resulting in him with a bandaged paw for a few weeks, "that's great I should come over and see him soon" alex chuckled making you giggle, "you should alex I think he misses you" you said grabbing your long coat along with your hat and scarf since it was the cold season.

"Yeah we'll arrange a day" he smiled grabbing his jacket and hat, putting it on, "Ready to go?" You asked walking to the door, "Yeah let's go, want me to drop you off?" He offered you nodded accepting his offer, "you got the key?" He asked you said yes locking the door.

Entering Alex's car he hopped in the drivers side staring the engine, driving you home you both chatted about anything you could within the twenty minute drive.

Making it outside your apartment alex stopping the engine turning to you, all he wanted to do was tell you how he felt or cup her face and kiss your soft lips right now, but he had to restrain himself scared he would ruin the great friendship you had built over the last since you started working in adult world.

"Thanks alex for dropping me off I'll see you tomorrow" you smiled grabbing your things, "no problem want me to pick you up?" He asked as you were getting out the car, "if its no problem" you replied alex shrugged it off, "not at all be up early" he joked making you roll your eyes, "okay see you tomorrow" you smiled closing the car door and into your apartment.

With a sigh you closed your front door, being greeted by bruiser, "Hey baby" you smiled petting your dog, "did you miss me" you cooed as he wagged his tail all excitedly, "come on we'll take you for a quick walk then we can relax" you said placing his lead on him then back outside taking him for a walk.

(Alex's pov)

The party was a boring without y/n there she was the light and soul of any party she attended, always knew how to have fun that's was I liked about her, along with any other things, I thought I couldn't like anyone the way I liked Amy but y/n seemed to prove me wrong and she didn't even know.

I yearned to tell her how I feel to rip off the band-aid and let it all out for once and for all, but the fear of ruining our friendship.

I sat in a corner not really socialising with people a red solo cup in hand with I don't know what, i didn't feel like getting wasted just one drink or two then home, it wasn't the same without y/n at a party alone.

Deciding to call it a night I went and left my half drank cup on the side amd left the party, driving home I drove by y/n's house unknowingly stopped ar the carpark of the apartment....

(Y/ns pov)

You were asleep your dog laying across your legs snoring,your hair was a mess on the pillow, as the weight of the night lulled you into your current slumber, only to be awakened by bruiser barking loudly by the door making you furrow your brows in confusion of who could possibly be at your door at 3 in the morning.

Getting up from the bed now hearing the knocks at your door, bruiser going more crazy by that noise, you grabbing his collar so he wouldn't run out the house, opening the door to reveal alex.

"Alex what are you doing here it's three in the morning" you said with half sleepy eyes, "I need to talk to you" he sighed you stepped aside letting him in locking your door, bruiser all over him as he greeted your dog.

"Okay what's up?" You asked taking a seat on your bed, "I don't know exactly how to tell you this so I'll just rip the band-aid off I like you y/n a lot, and I know you don't feel the same and I'm cool with that as long we can be frin-" You cut him off with a light giggle.

"What's funny?" He asked confused you shook your head "just the fact that you couldn't see I felt the same about you alex" you blushed, "really you do" you nodded moving closer to him.

Till your lips locked together alex wanted to do that since the moment he saw you, the kiss was even better than you could imagine till bruiser jumped in the middle making you both pull away laughing.

"Stay here tonight alex it's too late to go out anyway" you said with a yawn, "do you mind?" He asked unsure if you really meant it, "yes alex if I wasn't I wouldn't have asked" you smiled getting under the covers so did he.

The room was quiet you were unsure what this meant for you both, "alex?", "Yeah?".

"What are we" you asked turning to face him in the bed, "well we could try and see were this leads us you know test the waters" he suggested making you smile, "I'd like that" you replied kissing his soft lips one more time before falling asleep in his arms.

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alphagodith · 24 hours

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EEEEE I FINALLY HAVE MATCHING WIZGATO OTEDAMAS EEEEEE

(fun acquisition tale and bonus pic below)

okay so i started my wizardmon collection a year or two ago, and at the time there were no open listings for this rare stackable tsum-tsum loaf plushie/digi-digi otedama beanbag thing ANYWHERE. so i thought i was out of luck. i got the regular plushie of him but i was really bummed i missed out on this one cuz it's sooo cute.

then, just the other day, my friend @peach-artblog asked me if i had a certain golden gacha mini-figurine in my collection (i didn't but now i do), and that prompted me to go back to ebay again. and guess who finally had a listing! so i SLAMMED that buy button as hard and fast and recklessly as i possibly could.

but then i thought, surely there is a matching gatomon one of these, and it would be cruel to separate the two of them, so i went looking for her and ordered her too. but then i kept looking for other wizard things that might have popped up since the last time i searched, and i found a cheaper gatomon on another site, but i had to wait for the one i'd already ordered to let me cancel it, since it apparently had to be approved by the seller since it had been a few hours. (this is important because it resulted in wiz and gato being ordered several days apart)

then a few days after THAT, i discovered that a certain phone charm i had seen plenty of times before and thought was fan-made was actually official! so i HAD to have it for my collection too, of course, and when i went to order it (from a third website), it reminded me of a funky thing with my address that sometimes causes it to get input wrong. so i went back to the other things i had ordered to make sure that hadn't happened, and guess what? it HAD. specifically with the gatomon otedama. so i emailed that seller right away, and they got back to me within MINUTES. apparently they were JUST about to ship it out (a bit later than i had expected too), so it sure was a good thing i got that fixed when i did! and i ONLY caught it because i had been looking at this OTHER purchase. (so very narrowly avoided further delays on gatomon)

so i'm carefully watching the tracking for the wizardmon otedama because i've been wanting it for years, this is the only listing ANYWHERE within that timespan, and our local shipping center has been fumbling things lately so i'm VERY worried about it arriving safely. and then the worst happens. i get a notification that the package has been 'forwarded' due to incorrect handling/labeling. basically the post office screwed up and sent it to the wrong place and it's being sent back. i feel sick. i have my husband call the post office and the first lady he gets is very rude and unhelpful, then he tries again (bless his heart) a few hours later and THIS lady explains that the vague ass forwarding message just means that it's been slightly delayed but it IS still on its way to us, and not to some random wrong address or back to the seller. so we cross our fingers and wait. (so long story short, wizardmon otedama got delayed)

and today, on the expected delivery date for gatomon and and the last day for wizardmon to arrive without me freaking out super hard, the two of them miraculously arrived safely, and together, despite being ordered on different days from different sellers!

and if that ain't magic i dunno what is.

#wizardmon #wizarmon #gatomon #tailmon #wizgato #wiztail #wizatail #digimon #digi-digi otedamas #tsum-tsum plushies #shipping snafus #collecting

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blackbird-brewster · 2 years

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Temily Fanfic Master List (Updated)

ALL OF MY WORKS ON AO3 || MY WRITING ON TUMBLR UPDATED: 01 December 2023

TEMILY: A LOVE STORY (SERIES) (A series of one shots that all occur in the same universe/timeline but can easily be enjoyed separately without having to read in order) Now Is The Start (Fluff - WC: 4542) Tara and Emily meet for the first time and there's an instant connection. Realise (Fluff - WC: 1926) BAU Girls’ Night makes Tara daydream about her relationship with Emily Missing You (Smut - WC: 4065) In their months of chatting, Tara and Emily move from texts to calls to something more intimate

Lucky Mistake (Fluff - WC: 3270) Emily has returned to the BAU to help out temporarily and Tara works up the courage to ask her on a date. Will it be a mistake?

Secret (Angst - WC: 4153) Tara finds out about Emily's 'boyfriend' back in London in the midst of the news that Emily has been asked to stay on as Unit Chief

Force of Nature (Fluff - WC: 2996) Newly promoted, Unit Chief Prentiss has to report her relationship with Tara to the brass. But reporting their relationship made it real and that scared her more than anything the FBI could throw at her. In Your Arms (Fluff/Angst - WC: 6079) At a BAU Ladies' Night, Tara and Emily end up sharing secrets they hadn't planned to

Landslide (Fluff - WC: 2637) Emily struggles with the inevitability that she's getting older. And with a bit of help, Tara helps her girlfriend get over her hesitations regarding needing reading glasses.

Often (Smut - WC: 3083) Tara tries to entice Emily to go home after a long day at work, but her plan works a little too well and Emily decides she can't wait.

[Halloween Interlude] (Fluff - WC: 1573) When Tara is bummed about not getting trick-or-treaters, Emily comes up with a clever solution to surprise her girlfriend. My Whole Life Long (Fluff/Smut - WC: 4414) Tara and Emily celebrate their three year anniversary with a night neither of them will ever forget, in more ways than one. Always You (Fluff - WC: 2703) Tara freaks out when she plans her proposal to Emily Kiss Me (Fluff - WC: 2894) Tara and Emily get tired of waiting to get married so they elope with a couple of witnesses in tow. HEATED (Fluff - WC: 6017) Tara and Emily agree to let Garcia throw them a Bachelorette Party, even though they've been married for months already. Debauchery Ensues.

When You Sleep (Fluff - WC: 2290) Tara wakes up in the middle of the night to Emily having a night terror.

FLUFF

False Flags and the Art of Misdirection (WC: 11,926) JJ, Tara and Emily try and navigate their relationships and attractions to each other after the events in Roswell, New Mexico [Takes place after 13x09 False Flag] (OT3: Je T'Emily) Rather Be (Drabble - WC: 774) A Drabble about Tara and Emily first meeting (*written before Emily actually came back)

Scratches (Drabble - WC: 914) Prompt: "Why the hell are you bleeding?"

Late Night Delivery (Drabble - WC: 561) Prompt: "Who the hell sneaks in through the window at 4am to go for ice cream?"

Friend Like Me (WC: 3326) Tara and Emily play wing-person for each other when they go out for drinks but neither of them wants to admit who they really want to go home with.

ANGST/FLUFF

Why Am I Like This? (WC: 9611) A look at all of Emily's past relationships that led her to believe one undeniable truth, Emily Prentiss was broken. Six relationships that made Emily feel broken and one relationship that didn't. ANGST

All You Never Say (WC: 1917) A devastating look at Tara and Emily’s undefined love for each other SMUT

Motivation (WC: 5177) In the aftermath of Mr. Scratch’s ambush, Emily seeks comfort from Tara

LONG FORM MULTI-CHAP

Fooled Around (and Fell in Love) [Part 3] (Explicit) (Fluff/ Rom-Com, WC: 220,000) When JJ/Tara/Emily decide to buy a house together, Tara volunteers to renovate it into their perfect dream home. In order to follow through on her promise, Tara enlists the help of a general contractor, Beck Wilson -- but Beck's construction skills aren't the only thing that garners Tara's attention.

Fooled Around (and Fell in Love) [Part 1] (Fluff/ Rom-Com, WC: 80,471, Complete) An AU loosely based off the movie ‘Imagine Me and You’. Emily is a personal trainer and JJ is one of her clients but when JJ finds out Emily is gay, it turns her life upside down. At the same time, Tara and Emily meet and it’s instant sparks. Who fools around and falls in love, you may ask? Well, dear reader, everyone.

Fooled Around (and Fell in Love) [Part 2] (Fluff/ Rom-Com, WC: 87,394, Complete) Picks up ten months after the end of Part 1, this series follows the interwoven relationships of JJ, Emily and Tara (OT3: Je T'Emily)

I Want To Love You (Hurt/Comfort, WC: 13,125, Complete) It had been two weeks since Gabriel Lewis was killed by Mr Scratch. Tara tries to work through her grief in the aftermath of her brother's death. [Follows S12]

CM FEMSLASH FIC RECS:

My Fanfic Master Lists: [JJ/Emily] || [Tara/Emily] || [JJ/Tara] || [Misc Ships]

2023 Rec Lists: [JJ/Emily] || [Tara/Emily + Other Femslash]

2022 Rec Lists: [JJ/Emily] || [Tara/Emily] || [Other Femslash]

Also check out my past [Friday Fic Recs]

UPDATED: 01 December 2023

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #tara lewis #my fic #master post #cm fanfic #temily #cm fanfiction #my writing

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muchalucha91 · 1 year

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My BF and I are driving home from his family’s and we still have, like, 3 1/2 hours left so I’ve been jotting down some 100YQ thoughts. I for sure want to read it from the beginning again, since I know I’m forgetting some things and I’m sure there are things I missed lol Anyhoo, here are my thoughts (with a couple spoilers, don’t worry I marked them)

* LOVE Gray learning how to use Juvia’s magic on the fly and calling out that guy’s sexist bullshit🤴🏻

* I think Ignia will absolutely use Lucy against Natsu prompting them to hopefully and finally confess (?🤞🏼👀🤞🏼?)

* Love the newfound respect Laxus gained for Lucy and how he threw his possessed self in front of her to protect her. 🥹

* Bummed we missed Natsu get jealous of some randos hitting on Lucy😆

* Wendy having Irene’s consciousness lingering inside her is super interesting and I both get and don’t understand why she keeps it from everyone. I hope we get a mini arc or something about it! (Spoiler) if you’ve read the latest chapters 120 and 121 we know no arc, but I actually really like what they did with Irene! I do wonder, though, if she’ll remember her past life on Earth-Land 🤔

* Wendy is so powerful now! So proud of her! 🥹

* Can’t wait to see the Redfox baby(ies)!!

* Will the series end when Team Natsu finishes said 100YQ? I hope we get to see life/at least a couple more adventures after they go back home.

* The rock dragon god (I’m sorry I can’t remember his name and am too lazy to just look it up😅) said something about Natsu smelling like a dragon and a demon and I hope that gets expanded upon. I feel like it’ll have to be since Ignia seems to be more powerful than the other Dragon Gods.

* (Spoiler) I’m not thrilled about them being “friends” with their enemies (I’m just not super trusting of them after everything that happened lol), but seeing Team Natsu question if they’re the bad guys in this situation was interesting for sure.

* (Spoiler) Selene can see Irene??? Also Irene can …leave(?) Wendy’s body at will??? Did I see that right??

* (Spoiler) it literally destroyed my whole mood for at least a week after Lucy’s arm got cut off. I just kept thinking about Future Lucy and “no WAY is her losing that hand/arm inevitable!” The relief I felt (like a month later) after seeing it was Gemini 😫

* The fact that Natsu remembers her Star Dresses before her😆

* Seeing Aquarius again was so great and upsetting at the same time. Man, I hope they find her key! Also, has Lucy actually told anyone what happened to her key? If so, I’m bummed it was “off camera” that would’ve been great development to see!

* I know I’m in the minority, but I don’t mind the fan service/Nalu “crumbs” even the latest one lol

* The rock dragon said something about Natsu smelling like a dragon and a demon and I hope that gets expanded upon. I feel like it’ll have to be since Ignia seems to be more powerful than the other Dragon Gods(?)

* I’m not thrilled about them being “friends” with their enemies (I’m just not super trusting of them after everything that happened lol), but seeing Team Natsu question if they’re the bad guys in this situation was interesting for sure.

* I love how everyone treats Lucy’s spirits as equals/their own beings/friends. It probably helps that Loke was in Fairy Tail for 3 years.

* Someone else brought this up: we never hear/see Natsu’s inner monologue so we never really know what he’s thinking at any time. I wonder if that’s been intentional from the start and what’s the reason—if there even is a reason.

* I wasn’t expecting to go back to Edolas in this series, but I’m glad we got to see how everyone is doing.

* I actually liked the part in Fairy Nail. Seeing alternate versions of themselves in their own reality must’ve been weird to say the least😂

I apparently have a lot of thoughts😅 feel free to add your own if you feel so inclined!🖤

#fairy tail 100 years quest #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #gray fullbuster #fairy tail thoughts #just for shits and giggles #laxus dreyar #wendy marvell #I’m excited for the anime

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cherrygorilla · 2 years

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Carrie’s Basic Info

Whilst I try to get back into the swing of writing TMM after my holiday, I thought I’d put together a little mash-up of some of the character posts you’ve done for your characters, Danelle, but with the only OC of mine that has any real development: Carrie! So hopefully you have fun learning a little more about her!

I couldn’t really find any actresses that I feel totally match how I picture her to be, but I loved that post you did where you put all the different actors for your characters together for each decade, so I gathered together 4 throughout the ages that at least somewhat fit her.

So, going from left to right, for current times we have Florence Pugh (which I never really thought about until I saw her in the Don’t Worry Darling trailer, and then as soon as I saw her with that beehive hairstyle it all clicked lmao), for the 60s we have Jane Fonda (I mean come on, that hair is perfect for Carrie lol), for the 90s we have Sharon Stone (she has Carrie’s little smirk there down to a tee) and for the 80s we have Kelly Preston (I know I’m basing a lot of these on hair alone, but that permed hairstyle she had in the 80s has Carrie written all over it lmao - she would have really thrived in the 80s).

Alright, now onto the actual information bit, which is pretty much just her answers to the prompts from the ‘basic info’ posts you put together for your characters. But if there’s anything I’ve missed out that you’d like to know then just let me know and I can add it in!

Name: Caroline Samantha Cole

Nickname(s): Carrie (duh), Coral (only by the surfers), Squidge (only by her dad - he loved calling her and Tanner silly things when they were little - she was Squidge because of her squishy little face, and he was, and still is, Pebbles, thanks to a long-term habit of stuffing his pockets with them any time he went to the beach), Rolie (only by her grandpa - clearly the silly nickname thing is genetic, but at least it’s part of her name), Carrie-oke/Coleslaw (Ethan - had to throw him in here too, because nicknames are kind of his speciality lol)

Age: 20

Birthday: May 20th

Zodiac: Taurus

Birthstone: Emerald

Nationality: American, Hawaiian (just from her grandma on her dad's side though)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Birthplace: Bayfront Health, St Petersburg, Florida

Current Residence: Bahia Shores, St Pete Beach, Florida

Occupation: Actress

Schooling: Went to public school up until the middle-end of her sophomore year but then had to leave when she booked her first TV movie. She tried to go back once filming wrapped, but she got signed up to be in a new TV show pretty soon after and had to drop out fully. From then on she just did her schooling on set with her co-stars and, although she eventually graduated, she never got a proper ceremony or a prom or anything, which she’s still low-key kind of bummed about. At least she can live vicariously through the characters she plays though!

Talents/Skills: Singing, dancing, acting, cooking, doing her makeup, talking shit & managing her curly hair

Birth order: Oldest (by seventeen, precious minutes)

Sibling: Thomas "Tanner" Lewis Cole (her twin)

Parents: Brett Kanoa Cole and Martha Louise Cole

Signature:

Autograph:

Height: 5' 6'' or 168cm

Eye Colour: Blue

Hair Colour: A dark, golden-y blonde

Glasses or contact lenses? None. But the same may not be able to be said for her in TMM…

Distinguishing features: Her huge mane of curly hair; freckles across her nose and cheeks; a rather infectious, megawatt smile; a pretty bold, expressive fashion sense; a tattoo of doodled musical notes on the side of her ribcage; some stretch marks around her hips/butt area that she's super self-conscious about; and two moles right next to each other on her inner arm that Miles draws a little smile under at every opportunity he gets

Mannerisms: Talks with her hands a lot, has pretty intense facial expressions (useful for acting, not so useful when she's trying to not come across as a total drama queen), hums to fill the silence; checks her appearance pretty much every time she notices her reflection (some people blame her vanity, she blames her industry-fuelled insecurity)

Health: Nothing really, she just gets really bad period cramps.

Hobbies: Singing, surfing (now that her managers aren't restricting her time at the beach), cooking, sewing (her mom is trying to teach her, but she doesn't really have the patience, or free time, for it), shopping, and learning lines (yes, she considers it a hobby lol)

Greatest flaw (in their opinion): How strongly she feels all her emotions/how deeply things affect her - it's draining to live on such an emotional rollercoaster

Greatest flaw (in reality): Her obsession with her image and how the world sees her, especially when she lets it cloud her better judgement (besides her fiery temper, jealous streak and raging narcissism, of course)

Best quality (in their opinion): Apart from the talent she built her career around, probably her loyalty - she's very much ride or die for those that she really cares about, which is something she values in others, so naturally she thinks it’s her best quality too

Best quality (in reality): Whilst she sees it as a flaw, her deep connection with her emotions is actually one of her best qualities - she's so passionate about her relationships (both romantic and friendly/familial) that she puts her whole heart and soul into everything she does for them; and will often go out of her way just to show them how much she cares. Plus it's super useful for her job; after all, it's what makes her such a good actress.

Biggest fear: Failure. Failure in her career. Failure in her relationships. She just hates the idea of disappointing people. That's why she's so dedicated to her work; she's scared of doing a bad job and ruining her reputation. She's scared of letting her parents down after all the money they funnelled into her dance classes and singing lessons. She's scared of destroying her relationship with Miles because she keeps failing to fit in with his family. She doesn't want kids because she's scared that she'll fail as a mother since she's got such a demanding job. But then she's scared that she'll be failing Miles because he's such a family-oriented guy and she won't be giving him a family of his own. I could go on and on lmao. But yeah, as the ego-centric, go-getter she is, failure is definitely her biggest, and deepest fear. Needles and spiders are probably the answers she'd jump to first though ngl.

Favourite ice cream: In her world, cookie dough. But when she went to Mick's world and discovered salted caramel it was a total gamechanger.

Favourite colour: Actual colour-wise, like an aqua blue. But failing that, gold…or anything glittery, tbh.

Favourite number(s): 1…duh! Or 20 because it's her birthday date.

Favourite movies: Her go-tos are Gentlemen Prefer Blondes or Mamma Mia (depending on the century/universe she’s in lol). But the real answer, that she would rather die than admit 90% of the time, is the 1950s Disney Cinderella cartoon. It’s been her favourite ever since she was a little girl - it’s just the most beautifully magical love story in her eyes; nothing else compares. Plus, she’s always been a dreamy, Disney Princess girly at heart - under all the bravado and occasional bitchiness. But if she ever gives up that information, you know for a fact it’s not by free-will - and whilst the select few that do know think it’s adorable, they do dish out their fair share of lovable teasing.

Favourite songs: She's such a music-oriented person that this was super hard, but I'll narrow it down to just a few… It's All Coming Back to Me Now by Celine Dion (to belt in the shower); About Damn Time by Lizzo (to dance around in her underwear to); Lucky by Britney Spears (because she feels like she can relate); Tonight from West Side Story (a song from her time she just thinks is beautiful) and I’m The Greatest Star from Funny Girl (her favourite song to perform since it’s so good at inflating her ego)

A place they want to visit: Paris, partly for the shopping, but mostly for the food. It does help that Miles is desperate to go there too though…

#this was so fun to do omg #like i said let me know if i've missed anything you want to know #and let me know if there are any other characters you want me to do this for #i don't really have any other major ocs but you never know haha #carrie

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erodasfishtacos · 2 years

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Hey! can you please write something about ezra? i’m really missing him <3 he’s my fav kid and he doesn’t even exist what is happeningggg—

Always Thinkin’ of You

prompt: Ezra gets frustrated when Harry leaves him for too long.

warnings: ezra cuteness because I know you guys have been missing him

If you enjoy - please like, reblog, recommend, comment, & come talk to me.

🌮 Happy 4 of One Year of Erodasfishtacos. 🐠

catch up on the other days!

day one

day two

day three

Harry was just arriving home from a week and a half of press, promo, and games - he was exhausted but more importantly he missed his wife and babies.

When he steps in the front door, he’s bombarded by three of his little ones who attach themselves like monkeys to him.

Easton, eight,on his left leg, Cash, six, on his right, and Briar, two, tugging on the bottom of his shirt with a furrowed brow and demand of, “Up, daddy. Up.”

“Hi, lil’ mama,” Harry coos to his daughter who becomes more of a spitting image of her gorgeous mother everyday, “You miss y’daddy?”

Briar nods sweetly with her chubby hand coming to pat his face, nose wrinkling when she comes in contact with his unshaven face which was usually smooth.

Then he’s leaning down to kiss both of the boys on top of their curls locks, recently damp from a bath, with a murmur, “Missed you guys so much. Thought about you the whole time I was gone. Were you good for mama?”

“Yes! I helped put away groceries today!” Easton informs his father proudly with his chest puffed out and a dimply smile.

“Hey! I helped too!” Cash grumbles, shoving at his annoying older brother before nuzzling into his father’s thigh, “I put away all the fruit, daddy.”

“There’s my good boys,” Harry compliments, big palm rubbing Cash’s back as he hugs onto him, god - he loved his babies so much.

But he was missing his one monkey.

Ezra was usually never one to be left out of the welcoming committee, he was usually the first one scampering to greet him with a big hug and a few sniffles.

And surely by now, he would have known that his father had walked in the door with all the commotion his siblings had made.

“Where’s mama?” Harry asks, kicking off his tennis shoes and then his puffy north face jacket before tugging off his hoodie - it had been super cold out.

“Cooking dinner,” Easton informs him before slapping Cash’s shoulder and saying, “Five second head start! Tag, you’re it!”

Then he’s bolting out of the foyer with impressive speed before Cash can even process but then quickly joins in to chase after his older brother.

“Let’s go see what’s for dinner, pretty girl. Yes?” Harry sing songs to Briar who still has a curious hand dragging over his prickly facial hair.

“Daddy?” She asks inquisitively, her small fingers tracing over his upper lip and then his jaw before repeating the pattern.

“Wha’? You don’t like my whiskers?” He teases, moving his cheek to brush against hers - she emits the cutest little squeal when she feels the roughness against her baby soft skin.

“No! No!” Briar belly laughs, pushing his cheek away from hers before she’s burrowing right back into the crook of his neck for a cuddle.

“How did I get so lucky, hm? My perfect little girl,” Harry sighs happily, he was truly living a fairy tale with how he’d been so fucking blessed.

When he steps into the kitchen, YN is in a pair of nike shorts and an old college tee of his with her hair thrown up and Ezra sat on the counter next to her - watching raptly as she stirred the thick sauce for the pasta.

“Can you add the pepper now, Ez?” She asks softly, handing him the shaker and with his tongue sticking out in concentration - he carefully shakes until there’s enough of the spice added.

“Hey darling, you single?” Harry can’t help but try his luck as he steps up behind his wife, hand massaging at her hip as he lands a few pecks to the back of her neck.

“Sorry, m’all wifed up,” She replies haughtily but teasingly presses her bum back into the cradle of his hips which has him pinching her in warning.

“Don’t tempt me, we haven’t fuc- er, had alone time in nearly two weeks,” Harry corrects himself before he’s putting Briar down so she can toddle back to an abandoned toy cell phone near the pantry and pick it up.

“Maybe tonight, if you’re lucky,” YN hums, turning the stove down until the sauce is simmering and she opens the oven door to check on the garlic bread.

When Harry spins his wife around to nudge their lips together, he feels a small hand push at his arm, and he pulls back to see his youngest son fixing him with a glare.

“Hi bubba,” Harry smiles, figuring the push was from him not greeting his son yet, but when he goes to tug him into a hug and off the counter - Ezra shakes his head with a scowl.

YN titters at the four year old, “You want to tell daddy why you’re upset?”

Ezra shakes his head, curls bouncing every which way, and he crosses his arms, avoiding any eye contact with his father.

“Ez? Are you upset with…me?” Harry wonders, brow furrowed with confusion as YN goes about straining the pasta but still listening.

“Go away, daddy,” Ezra huffs angrily, his green eyes finally meeting his father’s with tears brimming at the rims.

Harry is definitely bewildered, he wasn’t quite sure what he did wrong, and when he’d FaceTimed with him earlier before his flight home - he was absolutely fine.

“I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong,” He tries to encourage, wishing he could just give him a hug, “Can you please talk to me?”

“Mama, tell ‘em,” The young boy mumbles instead when YN leaves against the counter, just waiting for the sauce and bread to finish for dinner.

“Ezra ended up taking a nap and he woke up about forty-five minutes ago. He had a nightmare and was looking all around the house for you,” YN replies, rubbing Harry’s bicep because she knows it’ll make his heart sting.

And it did.

“Daddy should be home,” Ezra whines, his anger melting away as he begins to blubber, tears falling down his cheeks, “No leaving Ezzie.”

If his heart could shatter anymore it could.

Harry couldn’t help but feel a gnarly twinge of guilt and sadness at his son’s words because even though his son is four - everything he says is valid and he should be taken seriously.

“I was gone for a bit longer than usual, yeah?” Harry agrees lowly, scrubbing a hand over his face, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, sweetheart.”

“Don’t leave again,” Ezra pouts out his full bottom lip.

“Daddy has to work so we can have a nice house and nice things,” Harry sighs, “So we can have food and clothes, hav-“

“No no no,” He chants out defiantly, carefully jumping down from the counter and walking out of the room.

“What has gotten into him?” Harry groans, he was pretty exhausted from the jet lag and shitty hotel beds, and he knew he had to work this out before the night was over.

YN wraps her arms around his waist, lips pressed to the hinge of his jaw as she speaks, “He’s just having a bad day. He missed you so much.”

“Should I go try to talk-“

Then they hear a clatter from the foyer, which has them quickly following the sound to make sure one of the kids didn’t get hurt.

But it’s Ezra, who has unzipped Harry’s suitcase and was tossing all of his nicely organized and folded clothing out and splayed all over the hardwood floor.

“Ezra Duke,” YN scolds gently, frowning when she sees the mess that he’s created and winces when she tosses his toiletries bag and hears a loud clunk! which was most likely his expensive Tom Ford Cologne.

“Now daddy can’t leave!” Ezra announces as he throws a pair of socks as far as he can which ends up landing at Easton’s feet.

The other three children had come to see what the fuss was about and stand their with confused wide eyes.

Harry steps forward, squatting down and gently grabbing Ezra’s arm, “This is not a good way to express feelings. If you’re mad or upset with daddy then we need to talk. You’re being very unkind right now by making a mess of my things.”

And when Ezra gets scolded by his father (even if it was very gently), he plops on his bum and begins crying as he looks at the ground.

Easton cautiously steps over and sits next to his younger brother, hand on his shoulder, and he says, “Ezzie, I used to get really sad when dad left too. But he always comes back, he has to go to work.”

“Yeah! And when you really miss him, you can just ask mama to call him!” Cash offers, being the sweet little thing he is and gathering a few of his father’s shirts to put back in the suitcase.

“Thank you, Cashy,” Harry hums before stopping him, “But Ezra made this mess and I think it’s important that he cleans it up.”

“No! No no no,” Ezra refuses, eyes steely green and determined not to listen - a full tantrum coming on from the looks of it.

“Come on, come help mama with dinner,” YN goads, guiding the little onlookers into the kitchen to give them some privacy.

“C’mon, sweetheart. You threw all of daddy’s clothes and I need you to pick them up for me,” Harry says soft but firmly, “Or you can choose not to pick them up and go sit on the stair.”

Ezra scowls at his feet as he weighs his two options carefully, his little chest heaving up and done with anger.

“I’ll pick ‘em up!” He whines with a high-pitched frustration in his voice as he lugs himself off the ground and begins to gather socks, shirts, and shorts - depositing them begrudgingly in the suitcase.

After every article is haphazardly back where it needs to be, Ezra stands in front of his father with the same scowl he’d managed to keep throughout the whole ordeal.

“Are you upset with me?” Harry asks his son, he wants to reach out and tug him into his arms but he had to respect his son’s boundaries too.

Ezra’s glare quickly begins to crumble when his bottom lip starts quivering viciously as he tries not to cry again but he nods.

Harry’s chest hurts for his son, “Bub, it’s okay that you’re not happy with me. I know I was gone and you miss me so much when I have to go.”

“Don’t leave Ezzie,” His son mumbles as he hiccups with the onslaught of tears that are bubbling over his lids.

“Darling,” Harry murmurs, opening his arms and Ezra instantly scampers into them to curl up onto his lap, “I have to go to work so that we can live in this house, eat yummy food, buy you all those baby dolls. If I don’t go, I don’t get money to do those things but that’s why mama stays home to make sure you get all the love and cuddles.”

“Want m’babies,” Ezra grumbles lowly, turning himself so he can wrap his arms around his father’s neck and bury his face in there.

“I want you to know that I think about you, all the time when I’m gone. I think about Easton, Cashy, you, Briar,” He whispers to his son as if it’s a dark secret that he’s never uttered before as he rocks his son back and forth.

“Mama?” The little boy squeaks curiously.

Harry can’t help but chuckle, “Yes, Ez. I definitely think about your mama all the time too. I love you all with my whole heart.”

“M’sorry.”

It’s sheepish and spoken against the column of Harry’s throat.

“Ezra Duke, you never ever have to apologize for feeling sad or upset. We just have to talk about it or do something to calm down. We can’t do things that are unkind to others,” He assured him, “It’s okay to be sad, angry, happy, or anything else. “

YN appears in the hallway, a soft lift to her lips as she tells them, “Dinner’s ready, my boys. C’mon. Ezra, do you want to help me pass at the garlic bread?”

With that, Ezra is out of his fathers lap and scuttling quickly to his mother at the chance of being a little helper.

YN can tell Harry’s tense, shoulders tight and uncomfortable as he lays on his side - back turned to her.

After she slides in, her nails come to lightly scratch at his bare back, “What’s bothering you?”

He doesn’t loosen at her gesture, just lets out a huff and burrows deeper into his pillow, voice low and clipped, “M’fine.”

YN can’t help but roll her eyes at the back of his head where his curls are still damp from the shower - he acted like she didn’t know him inside out.

“I couldn’t ask for a better father to my children, you know,” She starts, she didn’t have anything planned to say per se, “I know it sucks when you’re away for work but you’re so fucking present when you are here with you kids.”

Harry doesn’t turn around but she knows that he’s listening intently.

“Our kids love you so so much. I love you so much it seems like a fairy tale. I can’t believe how much you sacrifice for us, for me to stay home with the babies, for everything,” YN tells him, there’s tears running down her cheeks and when she sniffles - Harry instantly flips over and pulls her straight into his chest with his lips pressed to her forehead.

She knows sometimes Harry just needs time, that she can’t fix everything but he simply rasps out that he loves her and kisses her cheeks, nose, lips, and drift off in each other’s arms.

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gryffindormischief · 2 years

Note

Prompt: After a busy period in their respective works, married hinny cant find time to be intimate even though the kids are at hogwarts and they have the house all to themselves. Finally having enough of not seeing each other, one of them storms into the office of the other

A/N: A combo of 3 prompts (other 2 listed below)! I won't say any of the are exactly following the prompt because that would be a definite lie. I got carried away with the inspiration and this happened. Hope you like! It's my first hinny in what feels like a super long time??

FF // Ao3

“I am very young, very foolish, and very in love with you.”

AHEM do one where uh AHEM Harry and Ginny are left alone while everyone else is buying their Christmas presents and they ᵇᵃⁿᵍ and Ginny is like ᵃ ᵇᵒᵗᵗᵒᵐ and they almost get caught but like they dont and the next day Ron finds out and is pissed NEY livid at Harry and Hermione and Neville calm him down Jus wondering man 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

----

Operose

It sounds great when your supervisor says ‘shadow me’, at least theoretically it does. Experience, new learning opportunities, the unspoken expectation that this means promotions are in your future. Even better when your husband gets a similar offer from his supervisor and you start to sound like a power couple even if you feel a bit like an imposter, like the 14-year-old version of yourself woke up in your 22-year-old body, like you’ve secretly fooled everyone into thinking you’re competent.

But really that’s not the worst of it, because Ginny’s become a bit of an expert in talking herself out of that kind of mindset. It’s peaks and valleys. The real sticking point of trouble is the fact that between work and family, she and Harry haven’t had that magic combination of time, energy, and privacy to allow for a conversation about everything, let alone some bonding that’s less conversational in the traditional sense.

Regardless, Ginny hardly has enough time to think about what she wants to be doing since she barely has time enough to do what she must. And it might seem the best option is drawing boundaries with the family but it’s nearing Christmas and she can’t resist the little puppy dog looks starting with Molly and running all the way through the group to Teddy and Victoire. Sometimes, in her sleep deprived stupors looking over more gameplay strategy charts than she ever dreamed of as captain in her 7th year, Ginny wonders if Ron’s convinced them all to join his conspiracy to prevent her from getting any. Lucky for her brother, Ginny knows her judgment has to be clouded, because it’s quarter past eight and she’s actually excited she might wrap up ‘early’, which lately has come to mean before ten.

With a long suffering sigh, Ginny lifts her pen - a fancy muggle style one from Harry - and resumes her notes. The inky little players flit about the page when Ginny taps it with her wand and she scribbles away until the door behind her slams open with a heart-stopping bang.

Ginny has her wand at the intruder’s throat in seconds, her wheely chair squeaking across the floor until it thuds against the wall. “What the fu- Harry?”

“Gin - I miss you. Even though we’re together and we share a bed and - ”

“Oh hell Harry,” Ginny groans, surging forward to wrap her arms around Harry’s neck.

Ginny of a few months ago might’ve been shocked, but she wants to hold him more than anything else. In fact three minutes ago Ginny probably would’ve thought her first reaction would be to drag Harry toward her until she hopped her little bum up on the desk and then - maybe she still does want that.

But first she just wants to smell him.

“Miss you too,” Ginny finally mumbles against his neck, “So much.”

“I know you’re busy - I managed to wrap up my must do’s for the next fourteen hours. And Robards is emotionally torn about my overtime and his own improved sleep schedule.”

“So?”

“So he told me to go home.”

Ginny snuggles closer. “And?”

Harry laughs against her hair. “And be back at ten tomorrow.”

“What a guy.”

“Stand up bloke,” Harry agrees dryly, “Are you…”

“I guess…I guess my sense about what is and is not absolutely time sensitive might have become a bit suspect lately.”

“Which means?” Harry asks, pressing his lips to her temple.

Ginny leans back and teases her fingers through Harry’s messy waves. “Which means you and your friend down below can get reacquainted with me and my - ”

With a low groan, Harry hoists her onto the desk and runs his hands up her back, dragging her t-shirt up with them. Ginny follows his lead, picks up on it even, deepening the kiss until Harry pulls away.

“Why’d you pull away?”

Harry’s thumb brushes along her cheekbone, his eyes soft and searching like he’s trying to memorize every inch of her face. “I am very young, very foolish, and very in love with you.”

“Not that young gramps,” Ginny laughs, flicking at the handful of greys that have appeared at his temple.

“Twenty three, Gin! I can’t control my hair’s inability to count years.”

Sighing, Ginny tugs him closer by tightening her legs around his hips. “I’m not complaining, not really. Except your new haircut and those little silvery bits - I nearly tackled you at Sunday dinner last week, family or no. It’s quite disturbing.”

“Well I’m sorry I’m so sexy,” Harry says with a chuckle, brushing her hair back from her face, the softness a direct contradiction to his brash words.

“On days where I can’t do anything about it, me too.”

“So does that mean - ”

A large feline - Ginny’s not a zoologist - patronus leaps into view and immediately pulls Harry’s gaze. His clear disappointment and slumped shoulders are something of a comfort but Ginny can’t really summon up much emotion beyond a long growl. Disappointed rather than satisfied unfortunately.

“I could - ”

“You can’t Harry. Remember one of the things I like so much about you?”

“My arse?”

“Hmm that is a good bit,” Ginny says with a smile, “But the part - the thing I want you to remember no matter how annoyed and short tempered and grumbly I may ever get, I know your desire to protect and do the right thing is part of you.”

He laughs a little, self deprecating, and Ginny brushes her thumb along his jaw. “Not that I won’t say you get carried away at times. But I love you, even the bits that tend to give me unresolved desires.”

Harry leans in, gives her a long, lingering kiss. “Paused, not abandoned.”

Ginny pats his cheek, then nudges his face sideways with a playful tap. “I’ll save your place.”

And she does, at least in her mind, fingers reaching up to toy with the place on her neck Harry had abandoned with tangible devastation. It’s a small comfort as she powers through a few more tasks before bundling up and returning to their flat for a quiet night.

A quiet, lonesome night.

She’s exhausted, sore, and admittedly partaking in something of a pity party, so she’s in bed within 30 minutes of arriving home. Her limbs are weighty with sleep when she wakes to Harry slipping between the sheets as quietly and gently as he can manage. Which she has learned over their year or so of marriage is not much. Mostly, she finds better rest knowing he’s home and safe.

Somewhat clumsily, she reaches backward to encourage some kind of cuddle-style physical contact and Harry takes the hint, slinging one arm over her waist and pulling her close. His breath is warm across her neck when he murmurs some string of unintelligible words that includes her name.

The last vestiges of stress melt from her muscles with Harry’s light squeeze and quiet, “Love you,” until Ginny drifts back off to sleep.

Despite growing knowledge that it’s bad for their health in all senses of the idea, Ginny and Harry’s schedules don’t really let up. They gripe, eat rushed dinners in each other’s offices, melt into exhausted heaps in bed, and to Ron’s great annoyance share heated looks across the family table.

“It’s not even noon and there are children present,” Ron barks one Sunday as winter winds whistle around the Burrow.

Harry jolts from the sudden sound but his gaze is slow to leave hers. In fact he’s still half looking her way when he growls back, “You’re the only one who seems to have a problem with me looking at my wife.”

Charlie muffles his laughter behind a forkful of quiche and nudges Ginny’s side. “Frustrated Harry versus embattled Ron.”

“Hermione’s still not letting it go?”

“You didn’t see how long he paused when she unveiled the matching hats.”

Ginny snickers and looks up since she can practically feel Harry’s eyes on her. He’s smirking like he can guess some teasing of Ron is taking place, Harry has something of a sixth sense for it.

“How bad were they?”

Charlie shakes his head. “So many pom poms, Ginny. He looked like a Pygmy Puff.”

He laughs, but stops almost immediately and shoots a furtive glance toward Hermione.

“Worse than a Horntail when she’s mad, eh?” Ginny whispers, grabbing two drop biscuits and passing one to Charlie. “Eat up. If she heard that little observation it might be your last meal.”

Charlie’s reply is lost to Molly and George’s rising voices. “What do you mean coming over tomorrow?”

“Angie’s parents, it’s not a big deal.”

Angelina flicks him in the forehead. “I told you to tell her a week ago.”

“I know but - ”

“You said you did!”

Molly shoves away from the table, nearly tipping it in her rush. She would have without Bill’s quick grab. “Mum!”

Arthur gives a warning shake of his head in Bill’s direction and rises next to Molly. “Dear we can - ”

“I don’t even have gifts for them yet - they’ll think I don’t - George!”

“Yes Mummy?” George answers with just the right amount of sass to truly send Molly into a tailspin.

Luckily, Percy of all people jumps in and quells the rising fire. “Mum, why don’t you head to the shops, get prepped for tomorrow. It’s still early!”

”The parents, the grandparents, the cousins! Family deserves heartfelt knitting.”

“They can have a couple of hats,” Hermione mutters, narrowed eyes darting toward Ron.

“Bloody Buggering hell, I like the fu- ”

“Ron I may cross with your brother but I’m not deaf.”

Harry quietly excuses himself to the garden, and Ron watches him go longingly, “Mate I’ll come - ”

Harry waves him off while Hermione scoffs and disappears with a pop. Bill’s just picked up Victoire and started ushering Fleur to the fireplace so he nudges Ron in the back on his way past, “You have duties elsewhere. The Boy Who Robbed Gringotts can handle himself for a bit.”

Somehow, Angelina and Arthur manage to broker a peace between their spouses and Ginny really wants to avoid accidentally being invited to the impromptu nightmare of a shopping trip so she pats her mother on the shoulder and grabs an armful of dishes. “Go on Mum, I’ll handle things here.”

Soon, sooner than Ginny thought possible, the Burrow is quiet save the slow rush of water as she scrubs each dish by hand. It’s perhaps more manual labor than necessary, but Harry’s got her hooked on - Harry. She nearly drops the plate in her hand when she realizes she and Harry are alone together during the day for the first time in a hideously long period.

With quick, decisive strokes of her wand, Ginny soon has plates hovering over the soapy water and the scrub brush and towel working away. Leftovers are next, packed away and shuffled into the icebox like little soldiers marching off to their barracks.

Then she’s tucking her wand away and practically sprinting out to the yard to find Harry. Only to run directly into him and nearly knock them both unconscious with the force of the blow.

Instead Ginny’s left with a smarting tailbone and a half dazed husband currently looming overhead. She’s not completely displeased.

Laughter slowly rumbles from Harry’s chest. He buries his face in her hair and finally sighs. “Great minds?”

Ginny scratches lightly at his back. “Great minds end up in a heap on the floor?”

Harry runs his fingers down Ginny’s arms ‘til they reach her hands. He presses a short kiss to her lips. “Not much to complain about.”

As she plants her feet on the floor, rag rug soft beneath her toes, Harry drags her arms overhead and holds them in place with gentle firmness.

Her eyes dart to his and he waits, breathing suddenly strained, until she gives a brief nod. At her approval, Harry presses lightly, a quiet instruction to keep her hands in place while he begins exploring behind her ear, down her neck, along her collarbone.

For a moment, Ginny forgets herself and one hand ends up knit through Harry’s soft locks but she soon earns a low growl that sends her heart pounding. “Gin.”

Obedient, she raises her hand back overhead, though she does lift her hips lightly. She’s never good at complete patience.

Harry laughs against her lips while he palms her rear, bringing her hips flush with his. While he continues his exploration of the deep v of her t-shirt, Ginny grasps desperately overhead, one hand finally finding a chair leg she holds onto for dear life.

The rough wood reminds her of their precarious location, the numerous options at their disposal that would suit their needs much better. But it’s been too long and she’s so desperate and half believes if they try and relocate it’ll all fall apart.

Right now, she would like to do the falling apart herself.

Warmth pools low in her belly as Harry presses kisses over her shirt, like he’s too mad with need to even pause to pull it overhead. His thumbs have snuck under the hem, drawing distracting circles above her hipbones, teasing below the waistband of her shorts.

Ginny lifts her hips again, this time without Harry’s prompting and he groans, fingers finally fumbling at the snap on her shorts.

She’s halfway gone already and he hasn’t even discovered she’s wearing his favorite polka-dot knickers yet.

And then, like all good things, the gorgeous interlude is interrupted by her most obnoxious and untimely brother.

“Bloody hell!”

Ginny tips her head backward as much as she can manage, hairs catching on the wood floor. “Can we help you Ron?”

His shock is a bit overdone, in Ginny’s opinion. He’s seconds away from dropping the plate in his hands and they haven’t even unbuckled trousers yet. What a drama queen.

“In the kitchen Gin? In front of my biscuits?!” Ron gestures with the dish wildly enough that an oatmeal raisin drops to the floor.

Harry’s buried his face in the valley of her chest, though it seems it’s more to calm himself than titillate. “Ron?”

Ron truly appears near tossing up his brunch when he answers, “Yes?”

“Buzz off.”

Green pallor turns red as Ron slams the biscuits on the table. “That’ll teach me to try and help my ex best mate.

After one final deep breath, Harry sits up on his heels and levels an unimpressed glare Ron’s way. “Oh bugger off you’re just avoiding Hermione.”

“No biscuits for you! And you can finish the yard yourself.”

Harry nudges Ginny’s knee and she tilts her head back to a comfortable position. Once she’s recovered from the bit of vertigo, she finds Harry looking at her meaningfully. She can only hope her interpretation is correct.

Quickly enough, she learns she knows her husband’s looks quite well since he’s reaching for one of her hands to help her to her feet and gesturing to the kitchen and yard with his free arm. “Ron, since you’re here you can finish up right? Good.”

Ginny only has a half a moment to enjoy Ron’s fish-like gaping before she feels that tell-tale tug behind her navel and watches the kitchen disappear and landing with one pop in their quiet flat.

“Up you get, Potter,” Harry instructs, gesturing toward the bed with a tilt of his head.

She pauses long enough to take Harry in - hands on hips, the twisting cords of muscle in his forearms - and then follows instruction and hops up with a few squeaks of bedsprings. “Come and get me.”

#blarg writes things #blarg writes hinny #hinny #harry x ginny #Harry Potter x ginny weasley #hinny fic

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potter-imagines · 3 years

Text

Getting Drunk With Fred Weasley

Prompt: getting drunk w/ your boyfriend Fred would include + mini blurbs

Warning: drinking, swearing, and some suggestive wording

Word Count: 2.2k

Notes: n/a

Parties are not an uncommon event in the Gryffindor common room

Alcohol and drink mixtures of all sorts are being poured left and right every weekend

Most weekend you have a drink or two while catching up with your friends after a busy week of school

Other weekends you choose the path of getting plastered alongside your boyfriend off smuggled liquor and bottle of beer

On these night in particular,

Fred does not let you out of his sight

At all

Unless of course Lee challenges him to a beer pong match then he’ll carefully usher you over the couch where he can keep an eye on you while he’s playing

Has to pause the match like 20 times to chase after you and lead you over to his side “Y/n! You know you can’t out drink Seamus- he’s Irish! C’mon, come watch me kick George and Lee’s ass. They’re so bad it takes two of them to even manage a winning shot yet somehow they still suck!”

Loves it when you cheer him on

Is constantly glancing over to reassure himself you haven’t run off again

Your distraction is heightened in this state

So he feels the need to be your second set of eyes

Which had come in handy many a times

Like when Ron dared you to touch the burning fire while he was wasted on dragon barrel brandy

“Don’t be a pussy, Y/n. Swipe your hand real fast and you won’t even feel a thing-” “Y/n, pull your hand away from that fire, love. Ron, what the fuck? Are you trying to set my girlfriend up in flames? Angel, Ron is an idiot, you know that, don’t do anything he says again.” “Hey!”

And the time when you all were playing strip poker and Fred quite literally threw himself on top of your body to cover your chest when George teased you to take your bra off and your hands reached back for the clasps

(( he bitched at George for five minutes straight for that suggestion ))

Fred knew you were not one to back down from a challenge, especially when drunk and not considering the consequences or regret that would follow

So he always made sure you never embarrassed yourself too much or did anything you’d be wanting to take back come morning

During any Gryffindor party, Fred is the life of it

When he’s not preoccupied fawning over you, he’s hopping around with George seeking out trouble

The man throws back liquor like its water

Claims he knows his limits, but he really doesn’t

He is a touchy drunk

Hands brushing through your hair as you chat on the couch

Arms wrapped around your shoulder as you laugh along with your friends

Fingers laced in yours whenever you’re near

He craves your touch even more so when the liquor taints his veins

Let’s be real, Fred is not exactly the type of boyfriend to try to get you to stop drinking

He still makes sure you’re safe and not over drinking but,

Most of the times,

He’s the one pouring the shots for you

And mixing the drinks

But he always knows when to stop, and when you’ve had enough to drink

He tries to mentally keep note of how many drinks you've had but loses track once he reaches about five on his own end

Sometimes he’ll silently swap out your glass of whiskey for a glass of pumpkin juice

It’s obvious to Fred that he made the right choice when he watched as you sipped gleefully on the juice, not making a single comment on the dramatic change in taste

In these moments he begins to prepare himself for a night of babysitting you

And he’s so sweet in helping you on the nights when you go an inch- or ten- overboard

Carries you up to your bed and helps you change out of your clothes and into new ones for bed

He gets you wipes to take of your makeup, if you’re wearing any, and he’ll sit you between his legs on your bed while he brushes through your hair

After you’re properly ready for bed, Fred makes sure to set a glass of water on your nightstand incase you get thirsty and a bag of crackers if you get hungry

Stays the night without question when you ask

Other times he stays regardless of if you do or don’t

Your roommates don’t mind seeing as he takes care of you meaning they don’t have to

He’ll lay on his back and usher you over to place you head on his chest

His fingertips will soothingly trail up and down you back, lulling you into a deep sleep with the rhythmic motion

Tries his best to make sure you fall asleep first

Drunk Fred really has no control over his sleep habits and has a tendency to pass out from sudden exhaustion at any moment

One second him and George are fucking around with partygoers, supply them with different products of theirs, and causing pure chaos

The next second Fred was snoozing away while he laid on the couch with his head in your lap

Then he was back up an going again

Like a toddler on a sugar high

He’s such a giggly drunk

Kisses to the tip of your nose

Always smiling over at you and complimenting you

“Have I told you how breathtaking you look tonight?” “Only ten times, but I’m okay with elven.” “Let’s make it twelve, you looks absolutely stunning- so pretty, and all mine.”

The boy can’t help it, you make him feel weightless with happiness sober and the feeling only intensifies when he’s been drinking

There are nights when Fred can’t seem to taste the scorching burn of the liquor anymore after about six shots and it these nights where George and yourself are left dragging him up the stairs

George will beg you to stay the night because he can’t handle Fred’s drunken rambling about how much he misses you

And you agree because, how could you say no to Fred’s adorable puppy dog eyes and grabby hands longing for you to cuddle with him

If you two are both drunk, you’ll stay up talking- or rather whispering- under his comforter

He’ll stumble over his words and jumps from topic to topic in the blink of an eye

Uncontrollable giggles as he whispers- or rather stutters- out the most confusing jokes you’ve ever heard

“Angel, angel…” “Yes, Freddie?” “What happens when a toad’s car breaks down?” “I dunno…” “It gets froged!” “I’m sorry, come again? Isn’t it meant to be the frog’s car that breaks down and it gets ‘toad’...not ‘froged’?”

But he’s out like a light before you can get an explanation

He breathes like darth vader when he’s in his drunken slumber

Yet its somehow comforting in an odd way

Like it reminds you that he’s there holding you

And also that he’s still alive, which is surprising at times with the amount of drinks he consumes in one night

If you think Fred acts reckless sober, he thinks he’s invincible when he’s drunk which is even worse

He’ll agree to almost anything

If Ron were to tell him he bet Fred wouldn’t jump from the Astrology Tower all the way down to the courtyard? Fred would do it just in spite of him

The only time this attitude of his had gotten him into trouble was when Fred, George and Lee came up with the grand idea to go down the boy’s dormitory staircase on mattresses

Fred, being the brilliant man he is, decided to go first

You had been gossiping away in the common room to Hermione about a new Muggle actor the two of you had seen in a film when you heard the loud crashing, followed by the voice you loved so much groaning in agony

By the time you reached the opening to the stairwell, George and Lee were aiding Fred down the stone steps, carefully avoiding his ankle which had been twisted in an inhuman position

Madam Pomfrey surprisingly kept hum about Fred’s intoxication and instead scolded him for hours on end about his reckless, mindless choice to try to slide down, winding, steep, stone steps

Once news reached the professors the nest morning, McGoagall dismissed 40 points from Gryffindor for the incident

Using your mattress to surf down the twirling stairwell has since been prohibited

On a separate occasion Fred had accident lit the edge of the curtain on fire

You can always tell when he’s reached that level by the volume in his tone

It tends to get deeper the more intoxicated he becomes

And his words slowly slur together into a string of blabber

Mostly compliments, sweet words, and sometimes suggestive ones as well

Fred gets a bit more… forward when he’s got that liquid courage soaring through him

His hands will start to roam slowly from around your waist to your lower back, then resting on your bum

He gets turned on watching you play beer pong for some reason

Especially when you win

Maybe it’s the view he’s graced with when you bend to bounce the pin pong ball

Or the feistiness that arises when the match gets hot

It’s more than enticing for him

Fred can feel his frame get stiffer everytime you bend across the table to retrieve the cup and chug the beer from it

When the round has ceased and you’re declared champion yet again, Fred steps forward to pull you in for a hug

As he gives you a kiss on the cheek, he whispers,

“Good girl! Now if you beat George again I’ll give you a special surprise later tonight, angel.”

Which makes your knees weak like jell-o as your frame pushes into his for support

It doesn’t help that you can feel just how excited he is through the denim of his jeans

Fred dips his head to plant a trail of wet, teasing kisses along the skin of your warm neck until George was groaning and pleading for you to start the match

You practically shook for the entirety of the game, still managing to sink almost every shot into a cup forcing George to drink for the majority of it

He ended up tapping out once you nailed the seventh cup in a row and kept your winning streak alive due to his need to find a trash can immediately

You stopped there to join Fred by his side as he smiled to you, clearly pleased that you won

“Looks like someone is getting rewarded tonight.”

His arm draped around your shoulder as you leaned into his side, your cheeks flaring from the mass of bodies but mostly from Fred’s suggestive promise

He only forced you to suffer through the party for another ten minutes or so before pouring one last shot for the both of you, then nearly pushing you up the winding stairs to his dorm

Lets just say he certainly fulfilled on his promise- more than once that night

Loves it when you sit in his lap when you’re on the couch together

Whispers dirty secrets into your ear

Drunk Fred leaves hickies under the clothes

He’s not the type to care who’s around, he’ll try to slide his hand up your skirt in front of nearly anyone when he’s inebriated

“Fred- you’re brother is sitting right there, stop it!” “Shhhh, angel. He’s not even watching, right George?” “Right, Fred.” “See?”

To which you glare dangerous at him as you place his hand back in his lap, but Fred continues to smirk in amusement

It’s like you’re a preschool teacher constantly having to tell a child to keep their hands to themselves, Fred just refuses to listen

Fred doesn’t necessarily get jealous of other guys

He trusts you and he’s confident enough in your relationship not to feel threatened by other guys

However he is possessive af over you when he’s been drinking

In a sweet way tho

Literally wants all your time and attention when he’s drunk

If you don’t feel like dancing, he’ll ask you to come watch him dance

When you say you need to use the bathroom, he’ll ask a million times if you want him to come with

If George places a bet against Fred in a game of cards, Fred will drag you over to sit next to him as Seamus shuffles the deck and prepares the table

He’ll show you his cards and tell you to pick one

Even though he knows you’re completely unaware of the rules to the game, he loves the smile of excitement that appears on your face when he lets you

And in the rare times that you do say no, he works his magic with those big doe eyes and pouty lip until you say yes

It brings him comfort when you’re by his side

Your nights end the same each day, wrapped in his arms listening to the relaxing thump of his heart as the two of you doze off, both silently dreading the awaiting hangover than would surely greet you first thing in the morning, but you wouldn’t want it any other way

578 notes · View notes

drarryangels · 3 years

Note

Prompts are open! Professors!Drarry, husbands, one tells students all about his husband. No one knows who that is. Until one day sth clues them in. And everyone's like - WHAAAA?! Bets are lost. McG is amused.

Hello there! This is the oldest prompt in my ask box, haha! So sorry it took like two years to get around to this.... *blushes*

Anyways, I hope you like!

“That will be all for today,” Harry says. “You can have the rest of the period to work.”

He leans back against his desk and watches the scramble of students trying to pair off with their friends. He smiles and shakes his head. Every day is the same. Gloriously, marvelously, wonderfully the same.

“Professor Potter?”

Harry looks over to one of his students, a slight teenage girl with her hair tied up into three ponytails. “Yes, Miss Wimblefon?”

She twirls a curl of hair around her finger and smiles up at him. “I had a question for you. About the assignment.”

Harry sighs and waves his hand. “Ask away.”

“You said that the enchantment only works if the user is truly in love,” she begins.

Harry nods and folds his arms. “Precisely. Which is why you are only working on the theoretical application of this spell, and not trying to use it on your classmates.”

Jane giggles. “I’m in love. Can I give it a try?”

Harry stands up and brushes off the front of his robes. “You most certainly may not, Miss Wimblefon. As much as I am pleased by your interest in the subject, it’s not appropriate nor safe to produce the enchantment even when one is truly in love, and I have the strong suspicion that you are not.”

Jane’s cheeks go red. “Well, what does the spell do anyways?” she says, crossing her arms and huffing.

“An excellent question,” Harry says. “An easily answered one if you do your reading.” He holds his hand out to the classroom, and she gives him one last glare before turning on her heel and taking a seat with Mildred Daney.

“Merlin,” Harry says, dropping down onto the bed and spreading his arms out wide.

“What is it?” Draco asks, emerging from the bathroom and leaning against the door frame with his toothbrush stuck out of his mouth. “Jane flirting with you again?”

Harry groans and rolls over on the bed. “How did you know?”

Draco disappears to spit out his toothpaste, and then returns, smelling of mint and citrus shampoo. He climbs up the bed and drops down beside Harry, curling an arm around his waist and pressing his nose in the back of his neck.

“Because she’s the exact same with me,” Draco sighs. “Always playing with that bloody hair of hers.”

“She’s a sixth year already,” Harry says to the wall. “Isn’t this a bit odd?”

Draco nuzzles in closer behind Harry. “Someone should tell her that if she keeps tugging at that hair, it will all fall out by the time she’s twenty.”

Harry laughs. “Don’t you dare, Draco. Her mother will tear down the school.”

Draco bumps his head between Harry’s shoulder blades. “Well, then it will be McGonagall’s problem.”

Harry twists and rolls over to face Draco, his face smiling and bright. “You know,” Harry says, touching their noses together. “I think you may be right.”

“Oh, yes?”

“Yes,” Harry says and pushes himself on top of Draco, knees on either sides of his hips and arms around his shoulders. “Get Jane out of our hair.” He sets his head down on Draco’s chest. “And while we’re waiting for her mother to Floo in, we can plan our joint funeral, hm?”

“Bit early, isn’t it?” Draco says. He lifts his hands and rubs them up and down Harry’s back.

“Oh, no. Not at all,” Harry says. He lifts his head up and grins at Draco. “In fact, it may be a bit late if McGonagall has anything to do with it.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Forget I said anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” Harry says, and drops his head back down on Draco’s chest.

Draco is so warm, so soft. Nice. A weight tethering him to the ground, to sanity.

“Good night,” Harry sighs.

Draco smacks his bum. “Get up and brush your teeth, you buffoon.”

Harry groans as Draco pushes him away, all the way off of the bed.

“Why?” Harry wails as he hits the ground with a great oof.

“Because I love you,” Draco says happily before sending a stinging jinx in the direction of Harry’s backside. “Very, very much.”

“Hello, Professor Potter,” Jane says. She’s twirling her hair again.

“Hello, Miss Wimblefon,” Harry says over his breakfast potatoes. “May I help you with something?”

“Yes,” she says, looking rather pleased with herself with her chin all drawn up. “The book says that the enchantment provides a binding connection to the user’s true love. One that doesn’t break until death.”

Harry squirts some ketchup onto his plate. “Almost correct.”

“What?”

Harry picks up a piece of bacon. “Almost correct. The enchantment doesn’t die after death. That’s why it’s so complicated. It must be a mutual bonding, and both parties must be truly in love with the other. And the bond doesn’t break after death, which opens up a certain realm of questioning about putting intention behind spells.”

Jane shakes her head hard. “What does it benefit though? Why engage in such complicated and dangerous magic? What does it do?”

Harry smiles and sets his bacon down. “Miss Wimblefon, would you mind continuing this conversation during our class time? I’m trying to enjoy my breakfast.”

Draco snorts beside him.

Jane glances over at Draco briefly and narrows her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak again, but Draco looks up from his hash and stares at her with wide grey eyes. Too wide to really be attractive, people have said before. Harry likes them.

“Right then,” she says, and runs off.

“Bless you,” Harry says, linking his pinkie into Draco’s.

Draco raises his eyebrows. “Harry.”

“Yes, my love?” Harry smiles at him. Innocently, very innocently.

“Why are you teaching verus amor est alliges duplicia?” Draco glares at him, and squeezes hard with his pinkie finger. “That’s extremely complicated magic.”

Harry shrugs. “No reason at all.”

Draco sighs and winds the rest of his fingers through Harry’s. “Oh, Harry.”

Harry grins. “Oh, Draco.”

“It’s class time now,” Jane says.

Harry glances up at his charmed clock over the archway in his office. “Not quite, Miss Wimblefon.”

“Well,” she says, already sitting down in the chair opposite him. “I didn’t want to interrupt your lecture, so I thought I’d pop in early.”

“Right,” Harry says. It’s probably best to get this over with. Maybe if Harry answers all her questions, she’ll leave him alone. “Go on then.”

“I’m curious to know what is the purpose of the spell.” She folds her hands on Harry’s desk and leans forward.

Harry pushes his chair back slightly. “It’s an irreversible connection with the person who loves you most in the world. It links you together. So, theoretically, if one half of the pairing was hurt, the other would know it. If something good has happened to one, the other feels their happiness.”

“So they share feelings?” Jane asks.

“No,” Harry says. “It’s not sharing. It’s just a sense. An added knowledge.”

“And what else?” she demands.

“It can act as a protective charm, if in dire circumstances,” Harry says. “A bubble of defense, if the two are physically close.”

Jane sighs and kicks her loafers on the floor. “It sounds fine, but not worth the magic.”

Harry smiles. He’d felt the same way when he’d first learned of it. “Well it’s more than that. The best part about it is the connection. It is difficult to explain, even for those who have experienced it. It is a joining of skin, two souls being one, a linking of magic. It is being melded with another person, body, soul, and mind. It is having them with you, always.”

Jane’s mouth opens a bit. “Er. Professor Potter?”

“Yes?” Harry asks pleasantly.

“Are you bonded to someone?” Jane asks, looking scared and excited all at once.

“To my husband, yes,” Harry says, and smiles at her.

Jane falls out of her chair.

It takes another four days after Jane faints in Harry’s office before she comes to confront him again.

“You’re completely oblivious to it,” Draco is saying to Harry. “He has an excellent aptitude for Potions. He’s very talented, really.”

They’re in greenhouse four, so Draco can collect clippings for a potion in his classes the next day. Harry hovers by Draco’s side, not doing anything particularly useful.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Please, you should see him in Defense. I might as well transfigure him into a hippo, and see if it changes the results.”

Draco touches a hand to his chest. “My, my, Harry. I think you’re spending too much time with me.”

Harry pushes at him. “I know I am. Thank Merlin for it.”

“Professor Potter?”

Harry trips and nearly stumbles over into a collection of finger eating bushes before Draco grabs his sleeve and hauls him up.

“Hello, Miss Wimblefon,” Draco says coolly. “May I ask you what you’re doing out of bed at this hour?”

Her eyes pass over Draco. “Professor Potter, I have more questions for you.”

Harry is still choking on his breath. “Er. Yes. Miss Wimblefon, can we resume this conversation at a later time?”

“No,” she says, and comes to stand next to him. “Carry on with your walk. I’ll simply join in.”

They have no choice but to walk.

“I didn’t know you were married,” Jane begins immediately as they’re leaving the greenhouse. “Especially not to a man.”

Draco throws an elbow in Harry’s direction and raises both his eyebrows in question. What is she talking about? he mouths. Harry shakes his head. He has no idea.

“So you’ve performed verus amor est alliges duplicia.”

Draco straightens up beside Harry. He chooses not to look over at him for fear of being burned to the ground with the look on Draco’s face.

“Quite,” Harry says.

“With whom?”

Harry stops. “What do you mean with whom?”

He looks over at Draco, who looks just as bewildered as Harry does, his irritation at Harry’s curriculum forgotten.

Jane stops too and looks back at them. “Who are you married to?”

Harry could fall over laughing.

Draco speaks before he can. “Miss Wimblefon. What is my name?”

Jane finally looks at him. “Professor Potter?”

“Yes.” Draco says very slowly. “My name is Draco Potter.”

Jane shakes her head, still looking confused. “So?”

Draco huffs and flicks his hair off his cheekbones. “So I share a last name with Harry Potter. Who do you think I am?”

“Potter is a common name, it’s not weird that you both have....” Her eyes go wide. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” Draco snaps. “Merlin and Arthur, these children get dimmer every year. Potter’s a common name. Honestly!”

Jane turns and takes off running up to the castle.

Harry lets out a breath and holds out his hand for Draco to take. “I think you’re right, love. They really are getting dimmer.”

Draco takes his hand, gentle. “Why did we choose this career path anyways?”

Harry shrugs and they begin the walk up to the castle together. “Good pay?”

Draco blows out a hard laugh. “Good pay, indeed.”

Jane Wimblefon tells the entire school that Professor Harry Potter and Professor Draco Potter are married at breakfast the next day.

Harry drops his head into his hands and Draco rolls his eyes. Headmistress McGonagall stands up briskly and walks right out of the Great Hall. Hagrid bursts out laughing before knocking over the entire front table, and Professor Flitwick along with it.

The students go into a frenzy, jumping up and running from table to table, expressions of shock painted over their faces.

“Forget dim,” Draco says, looking out over the chaos. “This generation is entirely brain dead.”

Harry laughs so hard he gets marmalade in his hair.

#ask box #prompt #drarry #fic #fanfic #essentially plotless #fluff #domestic #professor harry #professor draco #husbands #hogwarts #mine #my work #draco malfoy #harry potter

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babbushka · 3 years

Note

Take this request however you’d like! A Flip’s titty appreciation post? Just about how he enjoys them. Whether it be sleeping on them, enjoying just looking at them when the Mrs is around, touching on them just randomly while you’re together. A little somethin’ somethin’ along those lines? 🤠

A/N: Lol when I first read this prompt I thought you meant you wanted some appreciation of Flip's tits!! I was like oh yeah, someone's gotta put a bra on that man lol! But then I read it again and realized that's not what you meant lol. I hope you enjoy this short fluffy something!

1k, warnings: mentions of pregnancy, and Flip being handsy and obsessed with tits but it's not smut really lol

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“God, today -- fucking -- !” Flip slams the door a little more aggressively than he intends to, taking in a deep breath to really emphasize, “Sucked!”

What a nightmare work had been, Flip thinks with a deep scowl, as he steps out of his shoes and jacket, leaving them in a disheveled heap on the floor, before going back and righting it because he knows you’d be pissed if he left it like that.

“Is that my honey I hear?” Speaking of you, Flip is a little bummed that you’re not right at the door to greet him like you are most days, because he sure as shit could use a kiss or a dozen right about now.

“Ugh.” Is all he manages to get out, before going on a hunt around the house for you, incorrectly heading into the kitchen first, hoping that dinner might be ready for him. It is, but you’re not there, and you’re more important, despite his growling stomach.

He hears you laughing a little at his theatrics, following the sound of your voice into the living room, where you say those four magic words that make all his bad days turn into good ones, “Aw cheer up, here, wanna see my tits?”

Like magic, his mood is improved, and he makes his way over to the sunken living room where you’ve got reruns of the Dick Van Dyke show to keep you company as you iron. He leans against the arch that separates the dining and living rooms, and watches as you put the iron up on its little stand, away from one of his dress shirts that you’d been working on.

You make a little show of it, unbuttoning the blouse you’re wearing one button at a time, your shoulders giving a little shimmy that makes your tits bounce as you let it drop into the to-iron pile, unclasping your bra tantalizingly slow. Flip can’t help but chew on his lip, the anticipation of seeing your perfect tits nearly killing him.

The torture only lasts a few more moments though, before you let the bra drop altogether, and Flip takes three big strides across the living room to get his hands on you, the way they’ve been itching to all day while he was stuck undercover with these fucking guys on this new fucking case.

“God ketsl,” He breathes out a low whistle, getting his palms full of your flesh and kneading your tits, “You’re a stunner.”

“I know.” You give him a cheeky grin, but Flip shakes his head, leaving down to kiss you all over your face -- your cheeks, your neck, your throat, making his way down in an awkward sort of bend, an attempt to get your nipples in his mouth. You laugh a little and swat at his shoulder, and he straightens up out of fear of accidentally bumping into the iron.

“No no, I mean really. How the fuck did a guy like me ever get you?” Flip backs you away from the ironing board a little, pushes you against the back of the couch, never once taking his hands off your chest.

“You don’t look half bad either.” One of your hands begins combing through Flip’s hair, short soothing scratches against his skull as you tease, “In fact, in the right lighting, you’re kinda handsome.”

That gets a chuckle out of your husband, and you’re pleased, glad that whatever had been bothering him at work was no match for the power of your presence.

“What are you doing?” Flip’s eyes are starry when he looks at you, rubs his nose against yours.

“Putting together a model airplane, what does it look like I’m doing?” You roll your eyes, leaning up to press your lips to his, always forgetting how much you miss him until he finally comes home from his stressful and dangerous job.

“Honey you can’t expect me to look anywhere other than right...” Flip grabs your tits in his palms again, getting a better grip on them to push them together and smack smooches to the tops of them that his fingers can’t quite cover, “...Here.”

“Alright hold on cowboy,” You laugh, pushing him away for a moment to much protesting, instead leading him over to the couch properly, nudging for him to, “Lay down.”

“No, you first.” Flip arranges and rearranges the cushions so that your back is supported, and the small act of care has your playful mood softening into something a tiny bit more tender.

Feeling stupid that you’re just in bottoms, you take them off, laying down on the couch in your underwear. Flip doesn’t bother taking his clothes off too, but that’s alright with you, he’s wearing his soft shirt and those worn jeans of his, nothing’s going to be abrasive against your skin.

“Careful, they’re a little tender right now.” You encourage him to lay down on top of you, mindful of the small baby bump. Your tits have gotten bigger from the pregnancy, and even though Flip was always a little too into them before he knocked you up, he’s all too excited to get his face snuggled against them now.

“They’re perfect.” He sighs out, trying to find a good spot to get one of his hands cupping your left, his face resting on your right.

“Are you comfortable?” You joke, knowing that he could live right there if you’d let him.

“Mmmmmhm.” Nuzzling his nose against your nipple, he kisses all over the spots that he can reach with his mouth, his body tucked up against you. The hand on your left breast gives gentle squeezes, and you smile fondly down at him, kissing his temple, before carding your fingers through his hair once again.

“You know, I’m not so sure you don’t have a complex.” You tease, and unexpected laughter shakes through your husband’s frame.

It’s not that he’s always been a tits guy, Flip doesn’t think. It’s always just been you, your body drives him crazy. The stash of wet white t-shirt polaroids he has of you in his desk could probably get him fired if anyone ever went snooping, there’s just something about the feeling of your nipple hardening against his tongue that makes his life so much better.

“You’re probably right but I don’t want to be confronted with that right now.” He grumbles, and you grin, knowing that whatever is going on in that brain of his, you’re encouraging, because how could you ever say no to your lumberjack of a man when what he wants is so easy to provide?

“Fair enough.” You muse, twirling some of his shaggy hair around your finger, “Will you help me with the ironing? It’ll go by faster if you put the shit on the hangers.”

“You bet your ass I will ketsl...in a minute.” Flip wedges his face into your cleavage, pushing your tits together once again to smother himself between them, “I just want to lay here for a minute.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you reach down to the extension cord where the iron is plugged in, and press the power switch. At some point, he’ll have to get off of you so the two of you can eat dinner, at which point you can turn it back on, but you know that as the rain picks up outside, Flip is not going to be getting up anytime soon.

That’s alright with you, you think, happy to hug him and watch tv together on the couch for a while, and maybe, if he gets worked up enough, have a little sex. You can’t blame him of course, you think with a big smile, you are, after all, a stunner.

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Tagging some Flip loving friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @miabelay11 @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea @princessflip

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman/reader #flip zimmerman x you #adam driver fanfic #adcu #flip zimmerman imagine #blackkklansman

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cryoaquila · 3 years

Text

surprise breakfast

prompt; making breakfast when your two boyfriends are being needy is not an easy task.

pairings; tartaglia x kaeya x gn!reader

themes; modern au, polyam, fluff, suggestive themes, food mention.

wc; 2k

the sounds of running water stir you awake. drowsily, you blink the remaining sleep away from your eyes as you sit up with a stretch. you notice that the bed was surprisingly empty as you were used to waking up next to your boyfriends who were always ready to snuggle with you and convince you to sleep a little longer. you look towards the bathroom where the sound was coming from and you see steam escaping from the small gap at the bottom of the shut door. instead of waking you up, they must have decided to shower and leave you to get some extra shut-eye. it was such a sweet gesture to you since, lately, you haven’t been sleeping well, but now that you were awake you decide to return their kind gesture by making a surprise breakfast for the three of you. draping your legs over the side of the bed, you put on your slippers before heading to the kitchen.

you let out a small yawn as you turn the light on before grabbing a pan from the kitchen cabinet and placing it on the stovetop. you tap your foot while thinking about what to make - there were so many great options for breakfast: omelets, crepes, sunny-side-up eggs, waffles, bacon, oatmeal, your mouth was practically watering thinking about all the possibilities and, secretly, you wanted to eat it all. the shower shutting off causes you to come back to your senses. well, now that a surprise breakfast was out of the question since they’d definitely be done drying off and see what you were up to, you decide to let them choose what they want. to prepare for whatever they ask for, you begin to gather some bowls, plates, and other supplies while waiting for them.

as you grab a few extra utensils, you hear the two of them enter the kitchen. you turn around to face them, a spatula in hand, ready to grant their breakfast wishes. kaeya was, unsurprisingly, only wearing a towel around his waist while tartaglia - who was still dripping wet and hadn’t dried off properly, per usual - was dressed in just a plain shirt and underwear. “good morning! i was going to make you two a surprise breakfast, but you finished showering quicker than i thought; so instead, i was wondering if either of you have any requests for what you want to eat this morning?”

kaeya makes his request without missing a beat, “i just want the two of you for breakfast.” he wraps an arm around your waist and another arm around tartaglia’s waist before pulling you both closer to him. you grin from how cheeky he was being and from the morning kiss he gives you.

“that would be the sweetest breakfast imaginable.” tartaglia beams before also giving you a quick kiss on your cheek, but his kiss was a little wetter than kaeya’s, and you had to wipe some water droplets off your cheek.

while the request was cute, you wanted something more substantial than your boyfriends for breakfast since you were actually hungry. “c’mon, that might be too sweet for breakfast, let’s wait until dessert for that, alright? seriously now, what do you two want?”

“all we really want this morning is some hugs and kisses from you,” tartaglia dramatically pouts, “you went to bed so early last night and then we didn’t get to shower with you this morning since we wanted you to sleep in, but we just want the affection we missed out on while you were asleep.”

“aw,” you gush, his adorable words almost causing you to forgo cooking breakfast all together in favor of ordering if not for what kaeya says next.

“and, you know, maybe some pancakes alongside the hugs and kisses...” he ears a playful glare from tartaglia and a snicker from you. “what?” he scoffs, shrugging slightly, “i am actually hungry after the shower.”

“pancakes are simple enough! is that ok with you too, babe?” you ask tartaglia.

he turns his attention back to you with a wink, “you know me, i like any and all food - especially if you or kaeya makes it.”

with that confirmation, you begin gathering ingredients to make the batter. a couple of pancakes shared between the three of you with warm syrup slathered on top did indeed sound quite good for a lazy morning; but you decide to spice it up a little by using a large heart-shaped mold for the pancakes to cook in. as you place everything down on the countertop your apron suddenly gets wrapped around the front of you, “here,” kaeya says, tying it in the back, “you almost forgot your apron.”

“oh, thank you!” but soon after thanking him, you realize he had ulterior motives for doing so. after tying the article of clothing, his hands trace down your chest and stomach before gently grabbing your waist, pulling you back into his body for an embrace. he kisses the side of your neck as you relax into his comforting touch and the sweet scent of the shampoo he used earlier washes over you. you lean back into him, ready to close your eyes and let him carry you back to bed, but the grumbling of your stomach causes you to push that idea to the side, for now. “hey now, less seduction and more pancake preparation.”

“only you can make an apron look like a designer outfit,” tartaglia comments, adding a whistle at the end.

“well,” you mutter as kaeya lets you go from his embrace, “you two would look great in an apron, especially if that was the only thing you were wearing.” you chuckle, knowing you were adding fuel to the fire that was their neediness, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

“i mean,” tartaglia says as he tugs on kaeya’s towel, “one of us is already almost there.”

kaeya quickly grabs the hem of the towel to make sure it didn’t fall off from his tugging, a soft chuckle on his lips as he waved his finger, “nuh-uh, like they said, not until dessert time.”

while they continue to tease each other, you begin mixing the pancake batter together. while you combine the ingredients, some of the wet mixture splashes out of the bowl and gets on your apron and your face. before you can wipe it off you feel tartaglia gently take your chin into his hand, tilting your head upward to look at him, “here let me help you clean it off,” he then kisses you before licking the sweet batter off your cheeks. he clicks his tongue, “it tastes as good as you do.” you feel your face begin to turn red from his words. both of them were always so needy in the morning to the point you’d usually just order some breakfast to be delivered so you could stay in bed with them and enjoy some extra cuddles and kisses; in fact, sometimes the three of you would stay there until the afternoon - and you loved days like that. but, today, you were determined to get these special not-surprise pancakes finished for them, and their distractions were slowing you down. thus, with some reluctance, you nudge him away, turning back towards the stove and your mixture. you pour a little of the batter into the heart-shaped mold, the warm, melted butter sizzling underneath the batter. once the shape was set, you remove the mold and now it was time to wait for it to cook before flipping it over. you turn away from the stove, eyeing your boyfriends, who both had the widest grins on their faces knowing that now they would have your attention while the pancake cooks. you open your arms, ready for their hugs, giving them a playful little eye-roll when they practically drag you away from the stovetop so they could both hug you and each other at the same time with one on one side of you and the other on the other side of you.

“you know we can’t help but want your attention every morning,” tartaglia’s voice was muffled as he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“especially when you look so adorable every morning.” kaeya adds quickly.

“i know it’s a normal thing for you two, but can’t you wait until the food is ready? maybe get some affection from each other while i cook?” you ask, trying to find a happy medium between their neediness and your want to finish these pancakes in a timely manner.

they look at each other, small smiles on both their faces, “we shared plenty of kisses in the shower, we want some from you now.” kaeya replies.

“you can’t wait for the pancakes to be done first?” you question.

“but waiting is hard…” tartaglia pouts.

“you two are the reason why food delivery services love us.” you sneer.

the three of you stop your conversation suddenly upon smelling burnt food. you scamper out of their grasps and over to the pan. you grab the spatula and try to flip the heart-shaped pancake, but half of it sticks to the bottom of the pan and what you do manage to flip is dark brown to black on the other side. tartaglia and kaeya look at each other worriedly before slowly walking over to your side. you feel sad at seeing the broken, burnt remains of the heart-shaped pancake in front of you. kaeya turns the burner off while tartaglia takes the pan, heading to the sink to dispose of the mess.

an awkward silence falls over the three of you and kaeya scratches the back of his head before trying to make some small talk, “that pancake burned really quickly, huh?”

“i guess the pan was too hot and… i should’ve been watching it.” you sigh, rubbing your forehead upon feeling a small headache coming on.

tartaglia turns the sink off, picking up a towel to dry the pan off, “it’s not your fault that you weren’t watching it cook.” he says, trying to comfort you.

kaeya rubs your upper back, “yeah, it’s more our fault for distracting you. sorry about that.”

“yeah, i’m sorry too.” tartaglia adds, bringing the cleaned pan over to the stovetop.

you shake your head, “eh, it’s alright. you two were just trying - and succeeding - at being cute.” you lean into kaeya’s chest, muttering, “i’m not upset, just a little bummed that the first pancake i cooked in a while had to burn…”

“well,” tartagla places the pan back down, grabbing a little bit of butter and placing it in the pan while kaeya turns the burner back on, “there’s still plenty of pancake batter left, right?”

kaeya glances at the bowl, “yeah, enough to make a couple more.”

“then let’s redeem ourselves!” tartaglia says as the butter begins to melt and sizzle in the warm pan.

kaeya picks up the heart-shaped mold, placing it back into the pan, “yeah, and we’ll help you this time instead of distracting you.”

tartaglia gives you the bowl filled with the pancake batter, “and then after we enjoy our not-surprise pancakes together we can go and get our kisses and cuddles.”

their enthusiasm uplifts your mood and your pour some more of the batter into the mold, “and without distraction, you should be able to get what you want sooner!” you put the bowl back onto the counter, crossing your arms with a sly smirk, “and maybe after we enjoy our pancakes, some ‘dessert’ for breakfast might be in order.”

#genshin impact #chaeya #kaeya x reader x childe #childe x reader x kaeya #childe #tartaglia #kaeya #childe x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact imagines #childe x gn!reader #kaeya x gn!reader #written #childe x kaeya x reader #kaeya x childe x reader

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startanewdream · 3 years

Text

Five Stages of Starflower

Summary: James is oblivious, Lily is mostly okay with her unrequited love and Sirius has a few plans about this situation. For @keepingupwithpotters,@sunshine-marauders, @cellularphoneexplosion and @zephyrcove who all gave me the most Jily prompt of all time (“Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”) and for @magixbeans (“I refuse to stop irritating you until you give me attention.”). Thanks for helping me celebrate this day ❤

Warning only for a few f-words every now and then (Lily curses when she is upset).

Sirius knows it.

Sirius fucking Black knows it.

Lily had been careful ever since last semester when she started to realize the signs of those things. She’d tried to back away, to avoid more contact despite the fact they had exchanged letters through Summer (just normal conversation, talking about what was going on and their families and discussing their friends – it didn’t mean anything), and that they had seen each other (they just happened to be on Diagon Alley on the same day to shopping, which was smarter and safer—and also didn’t mean anything), and Lily had convinced herself that her feelings for him were entirely friendly and would remain so—if only they hadn’t become Heads together.

There was no way her feelings could remain amicable when she was required to stay together with James Potter for hours at a time, alone in the Prefects Room as they worked and planned, their hands brushing against each other sometimes; or when they would run away to share a hot chocolate at the kitchen, enjoying the fact that as Head Boy and Head Girl they could ignore a little more the curfew, and he’d make her laugh and would help her wipe off the chocolate out of the corner of her mouth.

Lily had fancied someone before, and she knew how to identify the signs, as pale as those previous signs seemed when it came to James. Still, she knew what meant the way she would shiver whenever he’d touched her, or how her heart would skip a beat when their eyes met without planning and he would grin deviously at her or how she would sit closer to him than she needed, just to catch a sniff more of that wonderful scent.

She was falling for James Potter and the worst part was that she’d totally missed the timing in which he fancied her back.

Because all those signs she saw in herself were unfortunately absent from him. James had apparently mastered the art of considering her as nothing more than his friend, because when he’d touched the corner of her mouth—and she had blinked to him, she really had, a blink that said we are alone now and you are touching my mouth can you just kiss me?—James had done nothing but smile nicely, friendly, drawing away.

And she absolutely knew he was treating her as just his friend when the very next week he’d asked her if she didn’t mind changing her Friday patrol rounds with Leanne Diggory. Fridays were the day they patrolled together until late in the night. Fridays were the days where they would go to the kitchen and share a drink and talk about life and it was their moment.

‘Sure,' she had said, acting as if she didn’t understand what his request meant for them. ‘Any particular reason?’

James had flushed then, his hand automatically flying to his hair like he did when he was nervous and after a moment he glanced at Leanne across the Prefects Room. Lily had followed the direction of his gaze; Leanne was smiling back at James and Lily understood even more.

‘Well,’ she said then, keeping her voice carefully light even as a crushing weight had taken residence in her chest. ‘It’s a pretty reason.'

She couldn’t fault James for not being interested in her anymore, but she couldn’t also just stop feeling that thing for him, not since there was no way for her to avoid him completely. So she resigned herself to having a platonic crush on James Potter, one that she administered very well until the day of the first Quidditch game of the season.

Lily had been so diligent that none of her friends had noticed her feelings for him—and she knew that because there was no way Mary or Dorcas would keep it silent if they suspected. She had been careful not to gasp when they were on the grounds and James had been dropped at the lake by Sirius, stepping out of the water and taking off his shirt to dry himself (but she had taken that memory to her heart and lost herself in dreams about him); she had not frowned when she saw James leaving his group at the last Hogsmeade trip to go talk with Leanne, flashing that dangerous grin of his to her (but she had punched her pillow in anger lately, wishing James had come to her).

And then there was the first Quidditch match and Gryffindor had won and in the post-game euphoria, Lily had made the tiny mistake of hugging James and keeping that guilty longing smile on her face when they had broken apart.

That’s when her gaze had met Sirius, and he had widened his eyes in surprise, taking in all that her smile meant—by the time Lily had rearranged her face into a normal expression, Sirius was smirking knowingly, that moron.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He knows. Lily knows he knows. Sirius knows Lily knows he knows.

It could be worse if it were any of other James’ friends, she reasons dismayingly. Remus would have come to talk to her and urge her to share her feelings with James; Peter would spill the word to James, unable to keep a secret from him.

But it doesn’t look like any of these other scenarios is really worse as she sees Sirius’ eyes shining with a predatory look, like a wolf that knows it got his prey.

She considers running away. But Lily is no coward, there is no place for her to go permanently and she believes in keeping her enemies closer, if Sirius could be considered as one, at any chance. That’s why she keeps her ground, pretending everything is nice and not at all bothered when she sees James is near the fireplace talking with Leanne Diggory.

It won’t fool Sirius, but Lily can keep her dignity at least.

And remaining alone at the drinks table allows for him to get closer to her, which is important for her to check how much damage she did today.

‘Enjoying the party, Evans?’

Lily nearly sighs. Nearly one year of friendship with the Marauders told her they only call her by the last name when they are in full teasing mode.

James calls her a lot by Evans, though, but it sounds nice and she rather likes it.

‘Same as always. Nice party.'

‘Oh, I thought you’d be feeling… too crowded.' Sirius throws a glance towards the fireplace and Lily doesn’t need to follow the direction of his gaze to know what he is talking about. ‘Maybe you wish you were at one of those Head meetings.'

Lily pretends to be amused. ‘Heads can enjoy parties too.'

‘One of the Heads is certainly enjoying the party if the party is happening back at the throat of Leanne Diggory—’

She can control her eyes enough to not look in their direction to confirm how literal Sirius is being right now, but she cannot stop the grimace on her face fast enough; it is a spasm of hurt and anger and jealousy, and it becomes obvious that Sirius saw all these emotions when his grin just increases.

Well, too late to still save her dignity.

‘Good for him. Now, if you excuse me—’

‘Oh, I don’t,’ he replies gladly. ‘Why, you seem a little green to me, Evans.'

‘It’s my eyes, maybe you didn’t notice their colour before.'

‘Well, I never particularly cared, but I remember a young bloke reciting that your eyes were pure emerald bestowing grace upon that poor bloke’s heart.'

‘Jade,’ she corrects before she can think better of it. ‘He compared them to jades.'

Sirius’ grin is criminal now. At least, it’s making her want to murder him.

‘My, Evans, for someone that threw a hex at him you seem to have memorized his words.'

‘He kneeled to recite that poem to me in the middle of the Common Room, what else could I do?’

‘Snogged him?’ Sirius suggests, arching one eyebrow when Lily shakes her head. ‘Just imagine, if you had snogged him back then, he might not be snogging someone else right now.'

It’s a fair assumption, but this time Lily doesn’t have to disguise any particular emotion. She doesn’t regret not going out with James before; they were far too different back then. He matured a lot since those days when he would ask her out when he would be so infatuated with her that it was annoying mostly…

Unfortunately, in the list of things he changed since growing up, his feelings for her were included.

That makes her frown.

‘He is free to do whatever he wants,’ she says, a safe mid-term.

‘Or whoever he wants.’

She closes her fists, wanting to punch something; most likely Sirius’ face, though she will settle for her pillow too.

‘Are you here for any reason or you just want to piss me, Black?’

‘Mentioning that James’ hands are all over Diggory’s bum would piss you?’

‘Ah, fuck off, Sirius,’ she says, not bothering anymore to pretend anything.

He laughs—a loud carefree sound that seems like a dog’s bark to warn that something is happening; in this case, that Lily Evans is making a fool of herself.

‘I will leave you alone—if you just admit it.’

‘Admit what?’

'Are we really playing this game, Evans? Let's not go through the five stages of Lily Evans' acceptance of her undying love for James Potter, shall we?'

Lily blinks, fighting not to splurge over her drink.

'I have no idea what you are talking about, Sirius.'

'Have it your way then. I just thought you should know, I was kidding. James' tongue is carefully kept inside his mouth.'

And he indicates the fireplace. Lily looks at it now and, sure enough, though James is still talking to Leanne, he is fairly apart from her, hands untouching, in a friendly stance.

When she looks back, Sirius is not there anymore, but wherever he is she knows he is smirking, that prat. Continue reading on AO3 :)

#Jily #Jily Fanfiction #Canon Jily #Sirius Black supports Jily #sirius and lily #this is all self-indulgent #written as a love statement to Sirius and Lily's friendship #And also because Sirius was the original Jily shipper #and he called them Lames no question about it #posted now because somewhere in the pacific is already my birthday #and since I am half-japanese I can post in Japan Time #it is known

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alldayangst · 3 years

Text

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!”

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way.

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.”

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again.

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics.

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you.

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.”

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.”

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?”

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer.

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time.

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after.

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.”

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene.

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.

#tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #lolbrosgetsicktoo

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ghoste-catte · 3 years

Note

I was curious what advice would you give to someone new to writing fics? I've been wanting to get back into it but haven't seriously written something since high school. I hope this isn't an annoying question or anything!

Not an annoying question at all! I'm just a little worried that I won't have terribly good or useful advice. To be honest, I also sort of stopped writing in earnest right as I finished high school, and didn't pick it back up until my late 20s. It's certainly an adjustment! But I think the few things that really helped me get back into writing fic as a hobby and something I spend quite a bit of time on would be:

Write for yourself first, then find your other motivations. My original inspiration in getting back into fic writing was that there just were not that many fics I liked for my favorite pairing, and I wanted more of them, and I especially wanted more with the tropes and characterizations I wanted to see. I think at the very core of anything you need that internal spark that drives you. At the same time, for me at least, if I just relied on my own drive, I would not get much done; I need some external guardrails. So having people send prompts, or writing for particular events, or writing stuff for friends really helps me to get my ass in gear and finish stuff. That may not be the perfect motivator for you, and that's fine! You just gotta figure out what is.

Be open to inspiration. Anything and everything can be spun out into a story with the right tweaking. Obviously stuff like music is a classic inspiration source, but I've also pulled ideas from poetry, from memes, from Reddit threads, from YouTube videos, from rambling conversations on Discord and from real life to make fics out of. So many times, someone will post a silly Twitter screencap, and I'll think, There's a fic in this. And a lot of the time, there is! Research is a wonderful thing, but so is serendipity. If you're out there actively looking for ideas, eventually one that you like will stumble past you.

Find your community. I can genuinely say I never would have finished more than one fic if I didn't have fandom friends to talk to about even stupid headcanons, to bounce ideas off of, and to encourage me (and to encourage them in turn!). Discord has been a godsend, and some of my closest online friends are people I met in the GaaLee discord server. As I've gotten more comfortable as a writer, I've also joined general writing servers and Reddit communities and have found them immensely helpful on both a motivational level (bingos, sprints, owe-me challenges) and on a craft level (plot workshopping and writing ethics and live grammar help). It's a lot easier to think about fic ideas and hash through problem moments when I have a constant stream of fandom-related chatter coming from the little people who live in my phone! Ao3 is an amazing website, and it's great as, well, an archive, but it isn't social media by design. If you want conversation and human connection and cheerleading, you've gotta forge out and find it.

Make it a habit ... If you want to produce anything longer than a couple hundred words, you really have to set aside time for it. And writing is just like knitting or dirt biking or painting little model figurines: the more you do it, the more easily it comes. When I was first getting back into the proper swing of things, I committed myself to 30 minutes of writing per week. Just 30 minutes. I didn't even hit that goal every week, but there were tons of weeks I got on a roll and went over that amount, and by the end of the year I'd written over 200,000 words. I used to spend an hour laboriously tip-tapping out 200 words, but now I can easily blow through 1k in a 50 minute sprint. It's all about training that muscle.

... But don't make it a chore. With fanfic, you aren't doing this as a job, and you aren't ultimately doing it for anyone other than you. That means you can take breaks when you need them, you can set deadlines and then fail to meet them, you can write stuff and then decide to never post it. When you start getting burnt out, when the practice loses the joy and energy, stop. There's no 'hustle' here. In our capitalist society we're so trained to push past our limits and keep going even when it hurts us, but the hobby you do for connection and relaxation and whatever else shouldn't be like that.

Ignore metrics. Sometimes stuff isn't gonna get hits, or kudos, or comments. There are some basic 'rules' as to the stuff that does and doesn't get traction, but every time you post something it's a roll of the dice. If you're focused on watching that kudos counter tick up, you will get bummed out fast. And any writer will tell you that the stuff you think is your best work will never be the stuff that gets the most accolades. So you have to find something else to give you a sense of success. For me, it's watching my wordcount go up in my stats and those occasional comments where someone has a lot to say and that one person who always leaves me a <3 emoji (and, shout out to @egregiousderp, having someone to have long one-on-one conversations with about the stuff that never made it to page).

Don't strive for perfection. It's really easy to want your first ever fic to be a complete showstopper, the best fic fandom has ever seen, hitting all the tropes and the ideas and the characterization that you just know fandom is missing and would be everyone's top favorite if only it was written. This is a trap. No one fic can be all things. Most people who want to write an epic as their very first venture will not see the end of that epic, because they haven't put in the practice hours to make something on that scale work. That's not to say you can't start out with a big, sprawling multichap, just don't expect it to be the greatest thing since sliced bread if you're just starting out, and be okay with abandoning it for greener pastures if you get to that point. Think of the first time someone makes a vase out of clay or bakes a loaf of bread. That's never their best vase or their best bread. If they keep up with it, they'll make more and better vases and loaves. Likewise, your first fic is probably not gonna be your best fic. See it for what it is: your launchpad.

You can't edit an empty page, but you can over-edit a full one. This kind of spins off of #7, but if the words aren't there, you can't fix them. Daydreams and headcanons are fantastic (and god, how many times have I wished for a speech-to-text engine that projected my falling asleep thoughts onto a Google doc for later perusal), but they aren't fic. If you want to write fic, you've gotta get comfortable with the idea of sloppy outlines and rough first drafts. You can't build a house without a frame and you can't build a man without a skeleton (I mean, you can, I guess, but he'd be one floppy man). The nice thing about fic is that it doesn't matter if that frame is structurally unsound or the skeleton has 18 too many bones, you can clean that up in the editing process. But you can't start hanging curtains and arranging furniture in something that doesn't even have walls. That's the process. But! Also know when to set down the editor's pen and say, "Okay, this is good enough for government work", and call it done. ("Done" doesn't have to mean "posted", but it does mean, "I'm done picking at this for now, and I'm gonna go write some more stuff".) Over-editing can make stuff seem laborious and forced, and it prevents you from actually improving. To continue belaboring the house metaphor, you can spend your whole life rearranging furniture in just one room, but the end result of that is a pretty narrow existence and a room with a lot of footprints and tracks in the carpet.

Write shit down. When you have ideas, jot them down--in a notebook, in a Google Doc, in the Notes app of your phone, in pen on the back of your hand. You think you will remember that brilliant line of dialogue or sparkling snippet of narration or genius plot that came to you in a dream, but you Will Not. Write it down. Write it down. Write it down! There have been so many times when a fic was completely saved by past!me having written down my shower thoughts about what happens next in the fic, that present!me had completely forgotten about and was floundering over.

Have fun with it! Try different stuff. Try stupid stuff. Try experimental stuff. Do stuff you've never done before that you aren't sure will work. It's important to get comfortable with your niche (for example, I know I'm never going to be the sort of person who writes intricate plots of intrigue or super long 100k epics or detailed battles), but you can't find that niche unless you explore lots of different niches! Figure out what you love and what you absolutely hate, and then keep doing the stuff you love.

Okay, so that was actually TEN things, but ... I hope you still found this helpful. Feel free to send another ask if any of this was confusing or unclear. Good luck with your fic writing and, if you want, send me a link to what you've written once you've written it! I'd love to read it.

#answered #anonymous #writing advice #i guess?#am i qualified to give this?#no #but im doing it anyway

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bangtanpromptsfics · 3 years

Text

moonflower.

dialogue prompt #6: “It's 3 o'clock in the morning”

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: established relationships, fluff

word count: 1,550

warnings: making out

summary: a 3am walk in the city with your boyfriend

a/n: got this inspiration from an instagram reel and I wanted to transfer that entire feel into this one shot. hope you guys enjoyy and please drop feedbacks it really boosts motivation!! p.s as soon as I completed this, butter official teaser was released SOOOO EXCITED!!!

masterlist

“It's 3 o'clock in the morning”, you take a breath in and resume kissing him, hands tangling in the locks at his nape.

“I know”, he rasps, pulling back to bring your foreheads together, taking a moment to immerse the image of your swollen lips and cold skin of your face “It'll be fun baby”.

You don't know who exactly started kissing. Jungkook came back from his night shift not long ago and he expected you to be asleep. But he was beyond happy to catch you peacefully listening to music and waiting for him, paying attention to arbitrary details of the city still alive below. What began as a welcome kiss soon turned into a brief makeout-session, the first press of his lips against yours truly reminding how much you missed Jungkook throughout the day.

And during small breaks of catching each other's breath, he suggested for a night walk, much like a date since he had been too busy this week.

“Okay”, you huff, still feeling your chest squeezing together to get the normal breathing rate. A smile tugs at his lips and with one final smooch he leaves you to change your clothes into something safe enough for walking through the cold night.

Maybe it's because you had been with Jungkook for so long that you basically adapted a lot of his fashion sense and little habits. When you step out of your small shared apartment, you both look like members of a punk band, all black and leather.

Jungkook smiles down at you, remembering how much you have changed, it felt like you grew bored of colors as well, much of your aesthetics going monochrome at this point. There was a time Jungkook even went worried about it, thinking you were somehow adjusting to him. But you reassured him that he was all the color in your life you needed.

Jungkook interlocks fingers with you, squeezing palms together as he leads the way down stairs.

“Where are we going exactly?”, you ask, an obvious curiosity he hasn't clarified yet.

“I don't know really. We'll figure that out”.

He always had a way with words which made you warm and curious at the same time. You just smile in return and wrap your hands around his leather clad arms and walk along.

You liked this. Dates with no particular destination to be in. Just strolling till your legs are tired, eating street food, getting coffee together or studying at the public library because your apartment is located at a not so silent heart of the city.

And you liked Jungkook very much too. It sometimes feels like lopsided that it demands to overflow from underneath your skin, and sometimes when you are making love to him or cuddling his head close to your chest, you believe he feels it too.

It hits you all of a sudden that you never shared those three words. Never ever uttered them in this two years of relationship and you question them now. Totally random of a realisation just like the day you woke up in a cold sweat accepting to self that you have to confess to Jungkook.

The first place you stop by is a heavily packed food truck selling korean food. It's a usually visited one so Jungkook ask for the customary meal, fire noodles. His favorite of street foods not because there wasn't anything better, he just adored your blush flushed face when you are done.

“Babe?”, he tears open the ketchup and squeezes the content with his chopsticks while watching you, “you good?”.

Apparently you had spaced out, still fueling on the thread of thoughts from earlier. You ground yourself to the present in a jolt, “I'm alright”. You give him a nervous smile.

Jungkook pulls his chair close to yours so that your arms and knees are touching, your skin growing hot despite not touching your noodles yet.

“What are you thinking about hm?”, he demands to know, but not intimidating you more than the point. He busies his hands mixing the ketchup into your noodles instead.

“I love you Jungkook”, you blurt, eyes planted on a random spot on the ground waiting for an outcome.

“And you realized that now baby?”, he chuckles, watching you all shy. He places his noodles from his lap to the table in front to fully face your direction.

“I love you too baby, so much. And I've said that so many times before, when you are sleeping, or when you were not listening. I think I was not as brave as you”, he confesses.

Your chest swells in warmth knowing he had always told you this. You peck his nose and dig into the food, finally able to feel the hunger settling down.

Content with the late night meal, you begin to stroll again after Jungkook laughs and cups your flushed red face. You always hated spicy food as a child but then this is another one of those quirks you caught up being Jungkook’s girlfriend.

“Where do you wanna go baby”, he asks, feeling lost of a trajectory for the date and now you are equally lost too, dwelled in the fact that he will lead the night.

“I don't know”, you state and at the sight of a specific place you continue, “wanna get some drinks?”.

Jungkook immediately giggles, “We both know you lose your mind over half a glass of rum love”.

You knit your brows together for a pout, “Well then you can carry me back home can't you? That would be romantic”, you press yourself to him for no apparent reason.

“Carry you all the way home?”, he muses, holding your whining head softly on his palms while pecking your forehead.

“C’mon Koo then why do you workout for three hours all day? Make some use of your muscle”

“Oh I make plenty use of these muscles and you know it”, he teases back and you smack his arms in response.

After a few very cliche comebacks you both agree to drink the night away. Good thing that Jungkook had a good tolerance to alcohol among you two. Carrying his drunk body single handedly for a smaller human like you would be a tedious task. The math was correct here, and so you start slurping your glass of whatever cheap whiskey they had.

You were enjoying all of this, truly to the core and to the point that you swore there is nothing better to life than this. But Jungkook always felt otherwise.

You see, you are not a rich couple. Just normal millenials who go to college supported with scholarships and debts to pay, several part time jobs and a very low key life where you prioritise your expenses and plan finance together. A couple who has not went on classy restaurant dates in glittery tight fitting dress, or even a sundress and expensive suits. He always wonders about the things that could make you happier and maybe one day he can afford that Italian restaurant you once said is really nice because your sister was proposed by her husband there. You'll look so beautiful in a dress and he can't wait to allure on that.

“Koo?”, you slur, already feeling consciousness leaving your body, “What are you thinking about now hmm?”

He smiles faintly at you swirling his drink and bringing it to his lips to think upon the answer a bit.

“Nothing babe. You look so beautiful right now”, he says.

And immediately you search for a reflecting surface to check yourself out, and that's because you're drunk. Your more sober self usually ends up processing a lot of butterflies at the pit of your tummy.

“I am!?”, you beam, finally able to see a very blurred something of your bummed out face with hair falling over and maybe there's even a little dried drool at the corner of your lips.

“Yeah”, he giggles, scooping you up in his arms for a tight hug, “Let's get home shall we?”

“Carry me pwese”

“C’mon love”, he helps you climb on his back for a piggyback ride, “I'll carry you”.

You tug your limbs a little tighter around Jungkook, he pats under your thigh to loosen up so he can walk. He listens to random mumbles you are whispering to him and he smiles occasionally, carefully paying attention to everything.

“I love you so much sometimes I don't know what to do with myself”, you say and Jungkook stops dead in his track to process the words a bit.

His skin turns red which you can't see and probably you wouldn't mutter such things on your sobering. And he is glad. Glad to know that you are content with what it is. His mind stirs around, his own set of booze blazing the thought further.

“Why did you stop Koo? You tired? Should I carry you?”

“You love me that much?”, he asks, completely dodging your questions.

“Yes. So much”, you kiss his cheeks, pressing down harder then usual to prove your point.

He is convinced you are the one who has a way with the words. You say things which brings him to his knees and you remain so oblivious to it.

“Let's get you home”, he states through a smile.

Thank you so much for reading!! ♡♡

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