#and for the love of fuck QUIT speculating i swear to god you people DO have better things to do so go do them ! get a LIFE

[benisasoftboi]

Okay, so I watched the movie Spirited. It’s cute, and funny, and well cast. It’s got some really great sight gags. The costuming, props, set design people, they all deserve huge kudos, they did a great job. The musical numbers are very well executed. Ryan Reynolds is unsurprisingly incredibly enjoyable. It definitely should not have been two hours, should have been cut down to a tight 90 minutes, but that’s most movies these days. It also does that thing that’s been very popular in recent years, where it sort of speculates on the nature of good and evil and concludes it’s not a firm binary but a continuous series of choices, and then has our protagonists become Unambiguously Good People anyway. But I’m not, like, mad about it, it’s a feel good Christmas movie, and I liked it. I had a good time.

EXCEPT!

Writers. Comedy writers especially. I swear to god. Don’t do a musical if you’re not 100% committed to being completely sincere about it. I do not want to hear your meta jokes about how it’s sO wEiRd that everyone’s SINGING??? What’s up with THAT??? People who don’t like musicals will not be charmed and won over by it because people who don’t like musicals do not watch musicals in the first place. And people who do like musicals do not like watching a thing they enjoy get made fun of. These are jokes for no one.

(except the people who do like them because I know I know there’s someone for everything, but you still see what I mean about it alienating quite a lot of people right?)

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is the only TV/film thing I’ve ever seen that properly pulled off musical-meta humour, and that is because Rachel Bloom obviously really fucking loves musicals. I don’t think you do, Spirited. A musical require earnestness, musical parody even more so, and you revealed to me in the first ten minutes that you do not have that. My heart is not warmed.

And the thing is, it’s completely possible to do a comedy musical, and also be all-in on the musical aspects. I’m not saying don’t do comedy musicals, I LOVE comedy musicals. Just be genuine about it! Challenge yourselves! I believe in you! And I seriously mean that, because I am not utterly afraid of sincerity! Try it! Have a go! Sincerity is really, really fun!

#spirited #spirited 2022 #spirited movie

[myownprivatcidaho]

actually i think its good to speculate and act familiar with people you have nothing to do with but only when youre talking about

a) lesbian jensen ackles

or

b) bill hader and jensen ackles bonding over being 43 year old fathers of 3 and exploring each others bod[GUNSHOTS]

#idk what im saying but by god ik saying it ! #anyways this is all bullshit and saying words that being said stay out if these peoples lives and quit acting like you know them #and for the love of fuck QUIT speculating i swear to god you people DO have better things to do so go do them ! get a LIFE #but i digress #spn for ts #jensen ackles #but these agendas ARE correct so its fine <3

[folklorebae]

𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐀𝐬 𝐋𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭'𝐬 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

Cast(s): Reader ft. Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Kenma, Akaashi, Kuroo

Cw: Swearing, reader being called "my wife" by Kuroo

• "𝐢'𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮." - 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨

Everyone knows Bokuto is a social butterfly, everyone loves him. If there's anyone in this world who doesn't like him, then the problem is them, not him. Attending the MSBY Black Jackals after-game party has probably started to become your rutinity. But, ever since the party started, you always see someone you don't know talk and sit next to Bokuto for an hour straight. While you on the other hand, try to keep yourself busy by talking with other members and their partner.

"Did I do something wrong?" Bokuto asks once you two arrive at your house.

You shook your head. "No, I'm fine, just a bit tired."

He cups your cheeks, looking straight into your eyes. "Is it because I talked to them? I promise it was nothing, they have a significant other. They actually like you and think you're pretty! They just ask for some advice because they think our relationship is healthy!"

You quickly pull him into a hug, burying your face on his chest. "I'm sorry! I was jealous for no reason!"

"It's fine. I probably would do something worse, if I were you."

• "𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭." - 𝐈𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢

Not falling asleep after facetiming with you is a secret that Iwaizumi keeps from you. He misses you so badly and always curses the whole "long distance relationship" thing. He doesn't know why you wouldn't stop running around in his head, making his heart race and couldn't close his eyes. Until one day, he unexpectedly showed up in front of your apartment's door.

"Oh God, Hajime is this–" He presses his lips against yours, not letting you finish your sentence.

"Shit." He curses once both of you pull away from the kiss, taking oxygen as much as he can. "I'm sorry, I missed you too much."

"I missed you too." You murmur before grabbing the collar of his shirt and in a second, your lips met his for the second time.

• "𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝." - 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚

Dating Kozume Kenma or also known as Kodzuken is probably one of the biggest secrets you have in your life. Even your 14 year old cousin who's a fan of Kodzuken, doesn't know you live under the same roof with him. But that doesn't mean the public doesn't know that Kenma isn't single since two years ago, watching people make a speculation about "Who Is Kodzuken S/O?" is something that is quite entertaining for you. 

You gently open Kenma's gaming room door. "Ken? It's getting late, are you done yet?"

Kenma mouthed "Wait." to you before looking at his computer screen again. "Sorry guys, gotta pause this stream for a second."

You walk towards him while rubbing your left eye, a sign that you're sleepy. He leads you to sit on his lap and gives you a sweet kiss on the lips. "It's okay, you don't have to wait for me."

You hum as a response but in a second your desire to fall asleep is gone when you see his computer screen. "Fuck Ken! Did you forget to turn off the camera?"

• "𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐱𝐢." - 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢

You thought you already tried your best to hide your apprehensiveness. How could you not feel anxious when the man you've been with for the past nine months asked you to have dinner with his parents? You inhale when Akaashi reaches out your sweaty hand. He tightly holds your hand before giving it a squeeze three times, such a simple gesture but has a deep meaning.

"My parents will love you." He assures.

"How do you know?"

"Well if they don't, I think we have to run away."

You chuckle at his joke then squeeze his hand four times. "You're crazy."

"Well, I'll take it as a compliment."

• "𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧." - 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨

When was the last time you visited your boyfriend's office? A year or a year and a half? You're not really sure. However, today you decided to surprise him and bring him lunch. 

"Come in!" He says from inside his room after you knocked on the door.

"Surprise!" You shout while showing him the lunch box.

"Oh wow..." He mumbles to himself once he tears his gaze away from his computer screen.

You lean down your upper body to give him a quick kiss and place the lunch box at his table.

"What makes you come here, your highness?" He asks once you sit on the chair in front of him. But before you could answer, your eyes met a framed picture of you on his table. You immediately grab it and analyze the picture, making sure it's you. "Didn't know you put my picture in here."

He raises his brow, lips turning into a lopsided smile. "Is it wrong to put my wife's picture in here?"

You playfully rolled your eyes, hiding how flattered you are. "You're a simp."

"Says you."

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #bokuto x reader #iwaizumi x reader #kenma x reader #akaashi x reader #kuroo x reader

[silversatoru]

Hi, I just finished burdens and OML 🥺🥺🥺

May I request some sort of megumi x reader continuous where the reader ends up becoming a powerful sorcerer (or a cursed spirit👀 whichever you’d like tbh) megumi and the reader somehow cross paths again a little while after the break up and he witnesses her fighting for the first time? I just know that boy would fall in love all over again but she’s moved on and he feels guilty and just angst? And maybe fluff idk. I’m new to requests so I hope I did this right, thank you so much❤️❤️

burdens pt. 2

a/n: hello, part two of this not-so-lovely story is finally here. every single one of you is allowed one free punch to my face for taking so long to write it,,, i’m so sorry. this is its fourth rewrite and it got a little darker than expected but it’s finally done,, i hope you enjoy <3

fushiguro megumi x f!reader

synopsis: you finally see megumi again at the kyoto sister school goodwill event

tags/warnings: angst, some graphic depictions of violence, character death

word count: 3k

“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”.

Megumi’s bitter words were on repeat in your head — the harshness of his voice leaving a hollow feeling carved into your chest. Tear-stained cheeks and shaky breathes had become your new normal these past few days. Tight, sharp pains filled your empty stomach, waves of nausea coursing through your body.

You’ve had no motivation to get out of bed lately, nevermind to shower or cook yourself a proper meal — honestly, for all you cared you could rot away in your blanket filled bed. You checked your phone like a fiend too, thinking that eventually, a miraculous text from Megumi would appear and make everything better. It never did.

He’d completely ghosted you since that dreadful day, and that hurt more than anything. You’d held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't meant what he said. But as the days continued to pass, your hope quickly dwindled.

To say your current state was shameful was putting it lightly, and you were embarrassed at how poorly this was effecting you. You liked to think that you were strong, motivated, independent — that you didn't need some douchebag just to feel happy. But truth be told, breakups are fucking hard, and it's okay to not be okay for a while — or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

So when you were trudging miserably down the street to your local convenience store and you saw a familiar pair of jujutsu sorcerers, you wanted desperately to sink into the ground. You made a quick turn to head to a different shop, but it was too late, you were spotted.

“y/n! hey!” Two lighthearted voices sang through the air, filling your ears and making your heart clench in your chest.

You turned around and anxiously approached them, your unkempt hair and baggy eyes sending looks of concern across their faces.

“Hey girl, you good?” Nobara shot you a sideways glance, Maki raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, ice cream,” You croaked, speaking for the first time in a couple days, “I’m here for ice cream, that’s all”.

“Yeah, but why do you look like a fucking zombie?” Maki pushed her eyeglasses further up her nose, her sharp eyes looking you up and down.

“Ah, he didn’t say anything to you guys, did he?” You shook your head, heavy eyes falling to ground as you refused to meet theirs.

“Don’t tell me…” Nobara’s face contorted, “Did he break up with you?”

You nodded, a pitiful chuckle falling from your lips, because if you didn’t laugh, you’d start sobbing right now.

Maki threw her arm around your shoulder, pulling you to her side and ushering you into the store, “It’s okay, men suck. Hang out with us today”.

Meanwhile, Nobara trailed quickly behind the two of you, anger seething from her teeth and steam practically billowing out of her ears.

“That fuckhead! I swear I’ll fuck his shit up big time, he won’t even know what fucking hit him. I knew that boy was stupid but shit, this is a whole new low for him! I-,” She continued to ramble and rant as Maki led you through the store, picking out drinks and snacks to help ease your pain.

The three of you ended up in a nearby park, sitting around a small picnic table and gorging on the massive array of snacks. Lighthearted conversation and lots of food make your chest ache a little less, and you even found yourself laughing and chatting as if things were normal. You’d told the two of them all about that day, about Megumi’s irrational words and his tragic breakdown that led to some kind of fucked-up break up sex.

“So, how are we gonna get back at him? Egg his car? Put bleach in his shampoo? Bugs in his food? God - it’s a shame his dad is dead because from the pictures I’ve seen that man was FINE and revenge sex—,”

“Nobara,” Maki shot her idiot girlfriend a dirty look, and the orange-haired girl quickly shut her mouth, “As much as I support any idea that revolves around ruining a man’s day, I don’t think revenge is the healthiest coping strategy here”.

You were tracing your eyes around Maki’s face as she spoke, and you found yourself carefully inspecting her purple glasses that rested softly on the bridge of her nose. And that’s when it clicked, the light bulb ignited in your head and you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

“Maki,” your voice was urgent, “You don’t have cursed energy, you can’t even see them without your glasses!”

Her face twisted and her nose scrunched, a look of distaste in her eyes, “I know?”

“So, you could teach me, right? You could help me learn how to use some cursed weapons?”

“Yeah! You have to Maki, then she can beat his ass with me,” Nobara chimed in.

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” Maki’s mouth formed an evil grin, “Could you imagine his face after watching you exorcise a curse?”

The three of your conversed for a bit longer, speculating and potting about training, weapons, and your very own pair of curse-seeing glasses. By the end of the night you had a plan, and a pretty good one if you say so yourself.

From that day on, teary eyes and achy hearts were a thing of the past, not because it was that easy to get over Megumi, but because Maki didn’t even allow you the time to feel dismal anymore. You met her everyday after classes without fail, and everyday she would train you until you thought your arms would fall off. After months and months of sore muscles, sweat, and the occasional injury, you were convinced that Maki was incapable of feeling pity or remorse for other living things. Every time you speculated about quitting, she’d set a fire under you, unafraid to remind you how weak you still were.

The green-haired sorcerer had ultimately decided that you worked best dual-armed -- a long, lightweight blade in each hand. On your final day of training, she officially gifted the two swords to you, as a “graduation” gift.

Skill-wise, you were by no means as incredible Maki, but you definitely held your own, and the progress you’d made in a mere 8 months was astronomical. They’d introduced you to a strange silver-haired man at some point, Gojo, who had taken not only an interest in you but also your plot against your ex-boyfriend. He cackled to himself when you told him why you were here, going on and on about how priceless Megumi’s face would be when he saw you.

Your appearance was highly anticipated, so why not debut at one of the biggest jujutsu events all year? The Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event — Gojo thought it was the most perfect idea.

You tried hard to exude confidence as you walked at Nobara and Maki’s sides, but behind your arrogant facade your stomach was twisting itself into knots. Truthfully, you were scared to see Megumi again after so long.

And when your eyes met with his as you walked into the meeting room, you thought you just might pass out. You thought you were ready for this — but the look of complete shock, fear, and anger on his face as he looked you up and down almost made you regret all of it.

“What’s going on?” Megumi’s words were incredibly calculated, an edge on his voice.

His question was pointless, however, because judging by the fact that you were wearing a jujutsu tech uniform and had two swords sheathed at your sides could only mean one thing. Your hair was longer now too, and your frame was wider with an extra layer of muscle from all the training — you almost looked like a different person.

“I’ve been training with Maki, I-,” You spoke up to explain yourself, but you weren’t even granted the opportunity.

“No, no, Maki, what the hell did you do?” His eyes were shaky and laced with concern.

“I only did what she asked me to. I’m not the one who gave her a complex about being weak, you did that,” Maki shrugged, “and she’s not your girlfriend anymore dude, what do you care?”

Absolute confliction flashed through his eyes, uncertainty and madness swirling in his irises, “You’re right, I don’t care. Let me know when the event is starting”.

He took a sharp turn out of the room and let the door slam a little too hard behind him. The sound of his icey voice and the door shutting with unkind force was all too reminiscent of the night you broke up. Burying every emotion you had deep into your stomach you gave Maki a small, reassuring smile and plopped down on one of the couches.

“Alright, so when does this thing start?”

after the start of the event

Fighting the Kyoto students was proving to be much harder than you initially expected, but you were holding your own at Maki’s side. The two of you had easily taken down a small, kind, blue haired girl named Miwa, and now you were watching an emotional battle between Maki and her sister unfold.

Wait here, she’d told you, I want to do this one myself. Take some notes on my form and watch our backs, okay?

Okay, you’d said, a little confused but ultimately finding a nice spot up in a thick tree to carefully observe from. Maki was truly a force of nature, and it seemed like the other girl never actually had a chance of winning. It was honestly only a few minutes before the small black, haired girl was slumped against a tree and Maki was making her way back to you. Things were looking good, two of Kyoto’s student’s were down already and adrenaline was pumping through your veins.

You couldn't quite shake the awful feeling churning in your stomach though, and Megumi’s face was haunting your thoughts. You hadn’t seen him since before the event started, when an odd, pink haired boy jumped out of a box and freaked everyone out. Nobara had later explained who he was and what had happened, and you wondered how many awful surprises Gojo had planned today -- first you, then that.

A small rumble rippled under your feet, and Maki grabbed your arm as you watched a giant brown vine lurch it’s way out of the ground a few hundred yards in the distance.

“That technique doesn’t belong to anyone from Kyoto,” She shot you a look of concern and determination, “let’s go check it out”.

You gave her a firm nod, the two of you making your way towards the horrifying wooden vines. By the time you managed to arrive, Inumaki was already down and so was a dark-haired boy from Kyoto. A muscular, white curse with black markings and wooden branches for eyes was moments away from taking Megumi on all by himself — thank god you got here in time to help.

Megumi, however, was horrified when he saw you jump over the tall roofed building with Maki at your side. He’d just watched two incredible sorcerers get their shit rocked by this curse, there was no way you would stand a chance against this thing. But before he could even try to stop you, you and the green-haired sorcerer were flying through the air and taking shots at the curse. The two of you worked perfectly in sync, the months of daily training finally paying off.

He watched with intent glazed over his eyes, his heart threatening to lurch up his throat. You were a spectacle, and he always thought you were beautiful but seeing you now with dirt and blood stained clothes, cursed weapons gripped firmly in your hands, you truly were ethereal. He hated it though, he hated that he was falling in love with you all over again, especially under these circumstances. Guilt and anxiety was eating away at him — why did you have to get involved? Why couldn’t you have just stayed away like he told you to?

He was quick to join the two of you, sticking close to your side to protect you if need be — but, even with all three of you together the curse still had the upper hand. Maki had been swatted to the side, her back slamming hard against one of the tiled roofs and knocking her unconscious. It was down to just the two of you now, beads of sweat causing your hair to uncomfortably stick to the back of your neck. This was something that Maki’s training could have never prepared you for.

Megumi was getting tired, taking one wrong step and losing his footing momentarily. The curse saw this as a perfect window of opportunity, sending a spiral of vines and branches hurling for Megumi. It was fast, but the adrenaline coursing through you helped you to move faster, launching yourself through the air and intercepting the attack. The barky, wooden vines twisted violently through your stomach, shooting clean through your back and ripping a violent scream from your throat.

It hurt so bad, feeling the plant wriggle through your organs and tear you apart from the inside out. The curse retracted his vine a few moments later, leaving your mangled body to fall helplessly to the roof. Tears rippled from your eyes, your body shaking and seizing as you coughed up a few sprays of blood.

A long, strong pair of arms scooped you up instantaneously, and your head was resting against a firm chest — probably Megumi, but you didn’t quite have the energy to open your eyes to check.

“We’ll take it from here, get her to Ieiri!” You heard a pair of deep voices yelling to Megumi, but it was too foggy and far away for you to understand what they were saying.

Megumi was seething with anger, moving as fast as his feet could carry him and he ran through the school. As you waved in and out of consciousness, you batted open your eyes, stealing quick glances at his twisted features and — were those tears on his face?

“I- I’m sorry Megumi… I think I finally understand what you were so afraid of all this time,” Your voice was barely a croak, “when I saw it coming, I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to watch you die. I suddenly just thought I would do anything to keep you safe”.

Yeah, those were definitely tears, you could see them a little clearer now. His eyes were red and his cheeks were dried with salty streaks.

“You’re so thick-headed,” he mumbled, his grip around you tightening slightly as he picked up his pace, “I wish you would have made that realization before there was a giant hole in your stomach”.

“Me too,” You hummed, but you weren’t really in any pain anymore. The pain had subdued to a sweet warm sensation inside your stomach, and an intoxicating sleepiness was washing over your head, “I was angry for a long time, but I’m not mad at you anymore, Gumi. I hope you can forgive me too”.

You offered him a tiny smile, but the blood leaking from between you keeps made it anything but sweet.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, you never did anything wrong,” He spoke quickly, his voice quiet and cracking.

“No, but we’re not gonna make it to Ieiri, I know that and so do you,” You fell into a violent fit of coughs again, sputtering red splatters all over the front of his uniform.

“Shut up”.

“It’s not your fault, none of it was ever your fault,” you choked out once the fit of coughs subsided — and you weren’t just talking about yourself, you were talking about all of the unfortunate tragedies he’d witnessed throughout this life.

“And you’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, you know? I hope that when you meet someone, your soulmate even, you can allow yourself to love them with every part of you”.

The words painfully left your lips, but you meant every single one of them. You were starting to realize that you and Megumi were never meant to make it to the end. You weren’t his soulmate, you were here to help him grow, so that when he did finally meet them he’d be ready.

“You deserve to be loved, Megumi,” You looked up at him with big eyes, but his face was starting to get really fuzzy now.

Your fingers were going numb and your mouth felt like it was filled with sand. You were so tired, letting your eyes flutter shut and your head rest softly against Megumi’s chest. You felt him stop running, you could even hear him screaming at you — but it was too far away for you to hear. You drifted closer and closer to eternal sleep, your soul swollen with love for the boy who broke your heart.

Megumi didn’t even feel sad when you stopped breathing in his arms — he just felt hollow. More empty and broken than he’d ever thought possible. You were the most incredible person he’d ever met — someone with extreme motivation, who acted with no fear or hesitation, who always had love to give, even when he didn’t deserve it. He’d never forget you, not for as long as he’d live anyway.

Even when he did meet a new girl a few years later — a compassionate, brave girl, who reminded him a lot of you — he wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t forget your words and for the first time in his life he’d let his walls down for her. He’d allow himself to truly love, and be loved in return.

And maybe you were right, maybe he did deserve to be loved like this, because god, he finally feels whole again when she’s around. He just wishes you were still here so he could say thank you.

#megumi angst #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #angst #fushiguro megumi x you #fushiguro x reader #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsukaisen #jjk x y/n #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #this is sad i’m sorry

[acnelli]

First Time Falling

This is my entry for the @hpqueerfest 2021. Thanks to the mods who hosted this! And a big thank you to my great beta-readers @nagemeikenu and @static-abyss who put up with my phone-writery (writing time is hard to come by these days).

This story was inspired by Prelude and Fugue by shes_gone, and it’s set in a world where Harry didn’t go to Hogwarts, but had been prepared for his destiny.

Pairing: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley Rating: T TW: strong language, mentions of war time, mentions of drug and alcohol consume Prompt: Falling in love for the first time as an adult (late 20’s-early 30’s) Summary: Harry Potter –Head-Auror and Savior of the Wizarding World– spontaneously asked out a cute redhead and it turned to so much more than he could have ever hoped for. 

You can also read this on AO3 and FFN.

*** *** *** *** ***

Not bothering to knock, Ron Weasley marched into Hermione Granger’s office. The heavy mahogany door slammed against the wall, making Hermione jump up from her chair.

“Ron,” she shrieked as a bunch of paper fell off her desk. “What happened?”

Instead of providing his best friend with an explanation for his sudden intrusion, Ron paced back and forth. The panicked look in his eyes made Hermione assume the worst.

With one swift motion, Hermione stepped in front of the redhead, forcing him to stop his frantic pacing. “Ron, please talk to me,” she pleaded, taking his hand into hers. “What’s going on? Is someone hurt? Is your family okay?”

Hermione’s worried expression and the panic in her voice finally brought Ron to his senses. “No, don’t worry, Hermione,” he sighed as he closed her office door. “I’m sorry! But...do you have time for a quick cup of tea in the cafeteria?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. This report is giving me a headache and I need a break.”

Hermione grabbed her purse and gestured for Ron to lead the way.

“I swear, Ron, if you almost gave me a heart attack over something Quidditch related, I’ll hex you into next week and make your new Firebolt disappear forever,” Hermione added as they made their way down to the Ministry cafeteria.

Ron glanced over at the bushy-haired witch, suppressing a grin as he told her his distress was indeed about Quidditch. They grabbed their beverages and headed towards a free table. Gracing him with a dark look, Hermione gestured for Ron to finally tell her what’s going on.

“Harry Potter asked me out on a date!”

This statement caused Hermione’s drink to go down the wrong way, resulting in a violent coughing fit and her spitting out the tea.

“What?” she wheezed out between coughs, as Ron cleaned his face and shirt with his wand.

He waited patiently until Hermione recovered, both from the coughing fit and the shock. “See, even you don’t believe me,” Ron sighed, harshly rubbing his hands over his face, “I don’t blame you, though. I can’t believe it myself, after all.”

Finally being able to speak again, Hermione put her elbows on the small table and leaned forward, determined to not miss a single thing about this story. “Spill! How? When? Where? And don’t you dare to leave out even the smallest detail.”

Ron shook his head, still in disbelief about what had happened to him just twenty minutes ago. Not being able to wrap his head around it, he decided to tell Hermione today’s events from beginning to end.

“Today, Robertson sent me a memo to come to his office to discuss the ridiculous complaints about the Tornados/Harpies game last week,” Ron started and couldn’t help rolling his eyes about the things he had to put up with at work sometimes. “So, I went there, gave him my report about the match and a brief overview. Thank Merlin, he only asked his usual useless questions about referee bribery claims. I was ready to launch into a whole speech but he suddenly dismissed me and told me to write up a statement for the press.

“I was just on my way back to my office when I met Seamus. The fucking wanker had the nerve to claim the next Cannons match for himself. I know he did that just to spite me so, naturally, I gave him an ear full about it as we waited for the lift. We only noticed Harry Potter standing right behind us when we got inside the lift. I probably sounded like an idiot but Seamus and I kept the conversation up because I always get second-hand embarrassment when people stop talking if Potter walks by or joins the lift.”

Hermione patiently listened to his ramblings, restraining herself from telling him to get to the point already.

Ron sipped on his tea and shook his head. “You know what? I read too much into this. Just realised that I’m acting exactly as everyone else does. What’s the big deal? Just a bloke who wants to have a pint after work.”

Hermione stared at Ron, expecting him to go on with his story, but he just kept sipping his tea.

“Ron!”

“What?”

“How did he ask you out?” She accidentally raised her voice but Hermione was finally losing her patience with him.

“I told you, he most likely-”

“Just tell me the damn story, already!” Hermione snapped, blushing a little when she noticed the people on the other tables giving her funny looks.

“Alright,” Ron said, raising an eyebrow at her. “Calm down, barmy woman.”

“You're the one marching into my office like a lunatic. Spill it! Now!”

With a heavy sigh, Ron continued with his story, curling his hands around the tea mug to keep from fidgeting.

“Seamus had already gotten off at another level, so it was just me and Potter in there. I tried to avoid the awkward silence, so I asked him if he followed Quidditch and was going to listen to or even watch the Tornados match tonight. He said that he does follow Quidditch and that he intended to listen to the match at home but if I'd be up to it, we could listen to it at this new pub that just opened in Diagon. He totally caught me by surprise, but I must've agreed because he told me he'll meet me at the fireplaces at 5. Then he left the lift. Then I freaked out and came to your office.”

Ron marked the end of his story by taking another sip of his tea before he defiantly crossed his arms in front of him.

“Jesus, Harry Potter actually asked you out! Oh my God!” Hermione almost squealed, grasping one of Ron's arms.

“Nah! I don't think so anymore. I bet he just wanted to have a pint and was only being polite when he asked me to come along,” Ron said. “Who'd ask someone out like that anyway?”

“Someone looking for a partner?”

“Yeah, but think about it, Hermione. Why would he ask me out? The guy is not only fucking famous, he's also devilishly handsome. He could have anyone he wanted.”

“So?”

Ron looked at Hermione as though she'd just declared the desire to live as a chicken.

“So? So, why would someone ask me out while on a random stroll through the Ministry? Who'd think ‘Oh, that freakishly tall ginger with more freckles than skin looks kinda awkwardly cute. Let's try to get a leg over?'"

“I dated you,” Hermione interjected.

“You don't count.”

“Well, thank you!” Her sarcasm was all but ignored by Ron.

“I just know I'll embarrass myself tonight,” Ron insisted, looking quite unhappy. “Let's go back to work. I still have to write that useless report.”

“Devilishly handsome, hm?”

“Shut up!”

**** **** **** ****

Harry didn't know what had possessed him to ask the cute ginger out for a pint.

Maybe it had been the Prophet article speculating for the umpteenth time about when the Savior of the Wizarding World would finally settle down and make some black-haired, green-eyed babies. Rita Skeeter had many ideas about what worthy witch could conquer the heart of Harry Potter. All things considered, the article had probably not been the worst thing written about him so far.

Sometimes he wondered if he should've taken Sirius’ advice to feed the press and public meaningless details of his life. It wouldn't stop the constant speculations and made-up affairs, but it probably would reduce the paparazzi following him around, the crazy fans sending him love letters and maybe, they would find something more newsworthy than where Harry Potter bought his toilet paper.

But he hated the fact that people demanded this from him. He was 29 now, and while the great hype about him was over, he still seemed to be interesting enough to write about, even over a decade after his defeat of Voldemort.

He knew the majority of the Wizarding World was sincerely grateful for what he'd done. There were so many parents thanking him for the simple fact that they're still alive and able to see their children grow up.

It reminded him that it was all worth it. The sacrifices, the nearly friendless childhood, his secret life away from the public, the growing up with the knowledge that he might not live long enough to celebrate his 17th birthday. All of that had resulted in ending Voldemort once and for all.

When he'd destroyed the Dark Lord and his Horcruxes though, Harry’s hope of finally living a normal life got crushed soon after. In the post-war world, it had been next to impossible to lead a life like everyone else. Because of his childhood and his training by Alastor ‘Mad Eye’ Moody himself, he learned not to trust easily. And since occasions to make friends or interact with strangers had been few and far between, he never really learned what to look for in a friend.

He was well aware that he was complaining about a comfortable life. His parents had left him a respectable amount of gold, and Sirius bought him a flat in London after he graduated from Auror Academy. Maybe he'd gotten this job because of his fame and reputation, but he knew he deserved the position as Head Auror. There was hardly anyone with the same amount of training and experience he brought to the table, and he was under the impression the people working for him did genuinely like him as a boss. Two of them he even considered friends after all these years.

Aside from the two friends at work he also had his family. He had Sirius, Remus, Andromeda, Tonks and his godson, Teddy. He wasn't alone by any means, but he'd never met someone he could possibly fall in love with. Hell, aside from one of Tonks’ old friends from school and her father's attempts to set him up with several of his countless nieces—and later nephews when Harry told his family girls didn't do it for him—he'd never even dated. Toby—a fellow student from elementary school and the only friend his age—dragged him to Muggle pubs and clubs, resulting in the occasional snog or even a shag with a stranger. Needless to say, his first time hadn't exactly been romance novel material and it sure wasn't something he liked to think about. Sometimes, Harry feared that he would never fall in love, that he wasn't capable of developing those feelings for another person.

Those unpleasant thoughts combined with the Rita Skeeter article may have been the result of his sudden impulse to just go for it and ask the redhead out. But it also could have been the brilliant blue eyes, the kind, shy smile and the lean shoulders. Harry was sure, though, that the main reason for it had been the fact that this man hadn't treated him like a Messiah. It had just been an easy conversation, even if it had been only two minutes.

Harry hoped it would remain that way when they watched the game later. In fact, he could just brush it off as a friendly meeting with a fellow Ministry worker if Cute Ginger wasn't interested in anything more.

But when he thought about the redhead’s lopsided grin, Harry felt a foreign flutter in his stomach and he couldn't help but hope for more, even if it was just another visit to the pub.

**** **** **** ****

In the 30 years of Ron Weasley’s existence, he'd never been on time for something not work-related. Today, though, he was almost ten minutes early as he waited by the fireplaces for Harry Potter.

Again, he felt rather pathetic. For a hot second, he considered waiting in a nearby bathroom to pass the time, pretending to get to their meeting place just in time. But then he reminded himself that he wasn’t a petty teenager anymore, and even if Potter found it pathetic, Ron didn’t expect a repeat of tonight, anyway.

He decided to just treat this like a meet-up with Dean and Seamus every other Thursday after work. Just two guys, enjoying a couple of pints together, talking about Quidditch. Nothing special. Nothing to freak out over.

The atrium was busy as ever but he spotted Potter right away when the Head-Auror stepped out of the lift and made his way towards the fireplaces. He still wore his magenta work robes and Ron couldn't help but notice how sexy they looked on him.

“Hi!” Potter greeted Ron, smiling somewhat shyly. “Ready for some beer and Quidditch?”

“Sure! But I forgot to introduce myself earlier, so I figured I'd do that now,” Ron said, giving the dark haired man a smile in return, as he offered his hand for a proper introduction. “I'm Ron. Ron Weasley.”

“I'm Harry.”

**** **** **** ****

“No way! How did he get out of there?”

Harry barked out a laugh at Ron's tale of a night out with Seamus and Dean. His outburst was loud enough for the other guests of the pub to look in their direction. Ron found it amusing how a simple change into Muggle clothes, different glasses, and a slightly lighter hair colour resulted in no one recognizing the Boy-Who-Lived.

“Since it was a Muggle police station, Seamus had to spend the night there. Statute of Secrecy, and all. We picked him up the next morning and filled him in on what he'd done the night before, including showing everyone his pale arse.” Ron grinned deviously at the memory. “I invented some things for good measure. Unfortunately, Dean is too good for this world and told him a few hours later that I was taking the mickey.”

Harry shook his head, chuckling. “That reminds me of Remus searching the whole of London for Sirius, only to find him several hours later in a hidden spot on the roof. He was gazing at the stars and totally stoned. Combined with Firewhiskey, he didn't remember a single thing from that night.”

“Sirius?” Ron looked quite interested at the mention of his Godfather’s name. “Sirius, as in Sirius Black?”

“Yes. He was my Dad’s best friend. And he's my Godfather.”

“I'm just asking because I'm related to the Blacks. My grandfather married Cedrella Black.”

“Yes, I recognize the name. Her face got blasted off the family tree,” Harry said, and at Ron's raised eyebrow quickly added, “Sirius’ mother blasted everyone off that tree who didn't uphold the Black family's motto ‘Toujours pur’. So, Cedrella must have gone against the high and mighty Black Pureblood tradition.”

“Well,” Ron said, taking a swig of his beer, “she married a Weasley. I'm sure that alone was reason enough to disown her. The Weasleys have been notorious blood traitors since forever.”

“Sounds like your grandmother had good taste in men if you ask me.”

Harry winked at Ron, and the redhead felt the burning blush creeping up his neck.

Ron was once again amazed at how little time it had taken him to lose his nervousness. But Harry Potter made it very easy for him. Harry was confident, yet humble and polite. His humor didn't have Ron's sarcastic edge, but the redhead found Harry delightfully witty with a good amount of sass.

Ron didn't know what he expected but it was undeniable how easy it was to talk to Harry. He could only hope the raven-haired man enjoyed this just as much as he did. Harry laughed at his jokes and seemed genuinely interested in Ron's more-than-mundane life.

As much as Ron tried to see this as a meeting with a good friend, he couldn't help the warm feeling in his chest every time Harry smiled at him or his leg accidentally bumped against Ron's. And if the alcohol hadn't gone to his head already, making him imagine things, Harry's eyes kept flitting down to Ron's lips.

When the woman behind the bar announced the final round, they decided to call it a night since it was one of Harry's work Saturdays tomorrow.

As they ventured out of the crowded pub and into the cool night air, Ron was disappointed about the evening coming to an end. Time had flown and he was sure they could've talked for several more hours.

“Would you mind if I walk you home?” Harry asked just as Ron wanted to wish him a good night.

Ron nodded, not being able to suppress his smile as Harry obviously remembered him mentioning that he only lived a few blocks away.

They kept their pace slow and walked a little closer to each other than necessary, their hands bumping against one another. Every touch sent a jolt through Ron's body and he wanted nothing more than to take Harry's hand.

Eventually, they reached their destination. During the entire walk home Ron had gathered all of his Gryffindor courage to ask Harry out, this time for an official date.

“I- um,” Ron started, rubbing one hand against the back of his neck to ease his nerves. “I really enjoyed this evening and I was wondering...Maybe I got this all wrong, but you seem interested, and well, I'm interested too. And if you're not, that's totally fine. But...caniseeyouagain?”

And before Ron's face had the time to go completely crimson, he got his answer as Harry took his hand to pull him close, leaned up and kissed him.

Harry pulled back from Ron's lips, his stunning, green eyes slightly darker than usual and holding a hopeful glint.

Ron didn't give himself the chance to overthink as he put his hand on the back of Harry's neck and kissed him again. A deep groan escaped him when Harry licked at Ron's bottom lip and Harry took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside.

Ron was positive that he'd never experienced something more incredible than kissing Harry Potter. The only things he was capable of paying attention to were Harry and the wild thumping of his heart. And while it was exhilarating and new and positively made him weak in the knees, it also felt a lot like coming home.

Having lost all sense of time, Ron couldn't tell if they'd kissed for a minute or several hours when they broke apart. Harry's hands still gripped his shirt and Ron let his own hands glide from Harry's dark hair down over strong, well-defined shoulders to finally rest at his hips.

Both of them tried to catch their breath and Harry, who finally let go of Ron's shirt to put his arms around him, smiled up at Ron almost shyly.

“Yes, you can see me again,” Harry said, grinning.”What are your plans for tomorrow night?”

“Well,” Ron pretended to think about it for a second, “I thought I'd do this.”

And with that, he leaned in to kiss Harry again.

“I think that's a brilliant idea.”

**** **** **** ****

Just as he turned off the radio and grabbed his coat from the rag beside the door, a loud knock sounded through Harry's now quiet flat.

“Ten minutes early. Eager, aren't we?” Harry said as he opened the door for a tall ginger with a picnic basket in one hand and a broom in the other.

“Says the one waiting right beside the door like a good dog.”

Ron shoved his way inside, putting down the basket and broom before pulling Harry into his arms.

“Happy Birthday,” Ron murmured against the other man's lips. “And I thought I was supposed to give you a present, not the other way around?”

Harry pulled back a little, apparently confused. Ron grinned at him and squeezed Harry's arse. “Thanks for wearing my favourite pants today.”

Chuckling, Harry pointed at the broom Ron had brought with him. “No way I'll fly on a broom in these. Good thing I also packed my joggers.”

Ron hadn't told him where they were going for Harry's Birthday. He'd just instructed Harry to be ready at 9 in the morning, so they'd be back in time for dinner at Grimmauld Place with Harry's family.

Only two months had passed since their first kiss, but Harry already felt as though he'd known Ron for much longer. Every kiss, every touch, all the teasing and banter, and late night talks felt so completely natural, yet blissfully exciting.

“Come on, grab your broom. We're on a tight schedule.”

Ron winked at him and before Harry knew it, they were standing in the middle of a giant Quidditch pitch.

There wasn't a single soul besides them, but Harry immediately recognized the giant Hogwarts House banners from his family's keepsakes of their school years. Aside from that fateful day when he'd fought Voldemort on those grounds, he'd never visited the school. Not before, not after.

Harry tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. The surprise must be the result of one of their late night talks, when Harry confessed that his deepest desire while growing up had been to go to Hogwarts.

“Are we allowed to be here or do I need to arrest you for breaking into school grounds?”

Arms wrapped around him from behind and Harry could feel Ron smiling against the back of his head. “I wouldn't be opposed to playing the big bad Auror and the naughty Suspect later, but this is actually 100% legal. Having contacts with important Quidditch officials has its perks sometimes. And my annual chess game against McGonagall helped too, I suppose.”

“Okay then,” Harry said, lifting one of Ron's hands to his mouth to brush his lips against his knuckles. “Fill me in on that plan of yours.”

Ron let go of him and reached for their brooms, tossing one of them at Harry. “I thought we'd fly over the grounds first, so I can show you everything from above. The castle looks fucking amazing from up there and the Great Lake is a sight to die for when the water reflects the sun.”

Ron mounted his broom and flew in slow circles around Harry as he continued to talk. “I hope you don't mind that I invited your family for dinner. But I thought we could all show you the castle, introduce you to our favourite spots and secret places. Andromeda can show us the Slytherin common room. I've never been there myself. I'll show you the kitchen first. That's where I'll cook dinner later while the others show you around.”

Jumping down from his broom, Ron looked at Harry with a mixture of excitement and reluctance as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was a telltale sign of the redhead being nervous, Harry had learned in the last weeks.

“So, I thought this to be fitting for a 30th Birthday. I wasn't sure what to get you that you don't already have, and I reckoned this might be fun.”

Harry didn't know what to say and his silence only made Ron doubt his plan more. It always baffled Harry how Ron didn't realize how wonderful he was. He wished Ron could see himself through Harry's eyes.

Right at that moment, as Harry looked into Ron's blue eyes, it hit him. In fact, he knew he'd been harbouring these feelings inside him for weeks now, but only now he could see it with shining clarity.

He was falling in love.

The feeling was new, something he'd never experienced, but still he recognized it for what it was.

 Love.

***

#hpqueerfest #mine #my stories #my fanfics #rarry #rarry fanfic #rarry fanfiction #hp #hp fanfic #harron #ronarry #harry potter #ron weasley #harry x ron #ron x harry #ron and harry #harry and ron #ron/harry #harry/ron

[bangtanlalaland]

more than enough | knj (m.)

synopsis ⇣ your unfortunate divorce has left you questioning life and your entire existence. that is, until, your counselor demonstrates just how much you’re worth.

— marriage counselor!au

⇢pairing: marriage counselor!kim namjoon x divorcee!female reader

⇢genre: angst, smut, pwp

⇢word count: 5.4k

⇢contents ⨯ warnings: someone plz stop me from writing these porn-filled, no plot having fics, i think i need help, dom joon makes an appearance (who doesn’t love this man? uwu), lots of filthy filthiness, swearing, oral sex (f + m receiving), drunk bathroom oral sex actually (oops), did i mention jungkook makes an appearance? (he’s that blonde babe from the bathroom scene) 😏, masturbation, unprotected sex (always stay safe!), rough sex, breathplay, dumbification, hair-pulling, spanking, slapping, choking, creampie, impreg kink (ugh my fave), over-stimulation, voyeurism (oof), multiple orgasms, name-calling (being called a slut), jungkook’s tongue is magical, namjoon’s dick is huge (don’t @ me), premature ejaculation (oops)

a/n: I’ve had this also in my wips for awhile 💜 including like 10+ wips with joon because he’s my bby & I love him so much ugh!

Your fingertips awkwardly fiddle with themselves, a slight tension in your shoulders that you’re sure is visible. With legs crossed, you take a deep breath and contemplate your next guilty pleasure meal of the day. Everything around you seems black and white; since your divorce, you’d become null and void — not understanding why life itself got you to this point. You’d often question your purpose in life.

Why me? What did I do wrong? Am I not enough?

But here you are, reminiscing when everything seemed smooth, lovely, and peaceful. When things weren’t always about arguing over finances, hectic work schedules, a decrease in the amount of quality time spent together, or most importantly: pleading for just the smallest ounce of attention.

The sudden sound of your counselor’s throat clearing startles you, “Mrs. ____?” His notepad and pen in hand, his eyebrows raising up at you, slightly. Not having realized you’d zoned out, your fingers stop moving on their own accord. Your back straightens up just a tad more.

“Sorry, I-”

He cracks a smile, his hand raising up in reply, “Don’t be. Take your time,” You take a deep breath, and silently woosah yourself. Some part of you is curious as to why people like your counselor work these kinds of jobs. You couldn’t imagine having a career where you’re required to keen in on people’s problems everyday and offer advice, when you have problems of your own and can’t get your shit together.

Ugh, life.

“I’m hanging in there. I guess?” He cocks his head to the side, eyeing your expression.

“Can you tell me one good thing that happened to you this week?” You take a deep breath, followed by a coy smirk.

It had been a long time since you stepped out and especially in risqué attire. Your roudy friend and co-worker, Candice, insisted that you needed to spend the night out to celebrate your now freedom — post divorce. A slight sentiment of anxiety takes a toll on you, that is until she orders you both a couple shots of tequila to rile you up.

“Here’s to being young, wild, and free baby!” She exclaims, clinking her glass against yours. The both of you tilt your heads back, inducing more alcohol — hissing due to the slight burn in the back of your throat. Candice taps your shoulder, and hell were you feeling the aftermath of the liquor. You’re all giggles and feeling loopy.

Next thing you know, you’re locking lips with a cutie in the bathroom. Teeth and tongues clashing against each other, the thrill of getting it on with someone you don’t know was exhilarating — courtesy of the liquor in your system. Your mind hadn’t registered the lingering aroma of his cologne, until he pressed you up against the wall and stooped down on his knees, reaching under your dress to pull your panties to the side. Your lady lips revealed to him, and it’s as if he’s as horny as you are in this moment, if not more. The blonde-haired babe glares up at you with those pouty lips and dives head first. His nose brushes up against your clit as he licks a long strip along your folds, stopping to circling his tongue around the bud. His lips encase around your clit, and his muffled moans vibrate against your core, making you throb relentlessly with much arousal. He lifts your leg up and over his shoulder, while your back rests against the wall — an attempt to keep some leverage while having him in between your legs like this.

“Mmmm,” was all you could hear from him as he licks up and down your pussy lips, coating them with his saliva.

Your mind couldn’t even process the last time you’d been eaten out like this; uncontrollable moans slipping out of you, and it feels oh so damn good. Your hips grind against his tongue, helping to bring on your orgasm at a much quicker pace. His soft fingers grip your thighs to keep you in place. He pulls away with a pop and stares at you with those gorgeous, doe-like eyes. Your chest rises up and down, panting to gain your breath back. His fingers find purchase on your lips, and with a light tap you open up sucking them in your mouth. A low groan slips from him, you bob your head back and forth making sure to coat his digits and suddenly he pulls away. With furrowed brows, you hadn’t even processed that his fingers rammed into your pussy, your walls now warm and wet, inviting them in. Your fingers grasp onto his hair, pulling and tugging once his thumb swipes your clit intently. You’re so close and just need a slight push.

“Damn babe, how can you be this wet?” He giggles in your ear. You can smell whatever it is he doused himself in from the bar. You can’t quite pinpoint what exactly, but it is there.

“Just fuck me already, please” You plead with his fingers still inside you, he rubs your clit just right and repeatedly thrusts his fingers in and out. The obvious squelching sound of your pussy can be heard, and you pray to God nobody else suddenly walks in. You guys did lock the door right?

Shit.

And then he stops, removing his digits from you. You frown instantly.

“Need you in my mouth,” He adds, returning to his previous position from before, His lips wrap around your folds, sucking and tugging them with hunger. Like he’s having the most delicious meal in his last day on Earth. He continues to make obscene sounds with his slurping noises, his fingers press and rub onto your clit in a rapid motion. Your thighs give out, and it’s a clear indication to you that you’re going to cum. Has it really been this long? Have you really forgotten what it’s like to have an orgasm? That feeling deep within where the bottom of your tummy and core meet, feels tight as a knot. He lashes his tongue out to glide along your folds and sticks himself inside of you, tongue fucking you while rubbing your clit.

“I’m going to cum!” You cry with a labored breath. He uses your cry as a sign to lift your leg over his shoulder while he grips your waist, his hands land on your ass — gripping your cheeks firmly. His tongue lands flat to paint his saliva all over your cunt, his hands aid in gliding his tongue up and down your pussy at a rapid pace. He shakes his head back and forth, his tongue brushing across your throbbing, aching clit as a result. He continues at his relentless pace and suddenly that feeling inside snaps.

“Fuck!” Your thighs tremble violently and your core contracts continuously. Your back arches off the wall, but the stranger doesn’t stop his motions, his tongue continues on its own accord, not letting up. You even feel his fingernails digging into your cheeks slightly. Your fingers grasp onto his strands, tugging with an necessary amount of force — mimicking his motions. His low moans suddenly drawing out more than you expected, adding an extra touch to your orgasm, — your clit feeling used having been stimulated for a moment too long. The trembling of your body subsides, your legs attempting to hold on for a little longer as you fight to push him from you.

“O-okay. Okay, that’s- E-enough. Fuck!” To your luck he pulls off with a swipe of his hand across his mouth, panting and out of breath. You assume that’s the only reason he gave up, until you notice he continues to moan, his face contorted into an expression you suppose is from a feeling of ecstasy. And then his gaze drops down to his clothed crotch; his wide eyes roam upwards to your form, with lips parted. Your trembling figure gradually regaining composure.

“Oops,” He slips, letting out a contagious laugh. You follow where his gaze was before and shake your head.

“I-it’s okay, I understand.” His eyes crinkle up in a crescent-moon shape, and you somehow notice the rosy tint of his cheeks, streaming to his ears. Poor thing. He’s probably embarrassed.

Your counselor listens with open ears, taking in everything you’re describing to him, while jotting down what you think are a few notes. But to your unknown avail, he has written:

Client lacks in sex life, due to divorce Stranger gives oral sex; client reaches orgasm

Namjoon clears his throat before proceeding, “And what is it that makes this-” He pauses to gather the correct words, attempting to wash away the imagination of you spreading your legs out, pussy on display, on his leather sofa.

“Experience a good one for you? Is it the thrill from having an orgasm? Maybe the act of having a stranger perform oral sex on you? Or is it because he orgasmed in his pants by performing oral sex on you?”

You contemplate for a moment, thinking deeply about his speculation. You admit it; he’s great at his job. Well, at least better than you would probably be in his line of work. With legs still crossed, you playfully dangle your ankle up and down, your leg now having fallen asleep but you’re somewhat in an awkward state — speaking to a male about your recent sexcapade.

It’s times like these that you wished you were referred a female counselor. And it doesn’t help with how attractive Mr. Kim is, which is definitely a deal breaker for you. You take in his lavender streaks that paint the strands of his hair, paired with highlights of platinum blonde.

Although, you can’t help but ponder what he thinks of all this? Seeing it as you’re a divorced woman, having developed a dry spell, and can’t seem to even orgasm from her previous husband — the person you’d committed your life to, to what you assumed would have been able to please you in the bedroom but unfortunately he failed. It’s embarrassing, to say the least.

Mr. Kim had been there through it all, the good and bad, the ups and downs, twists and turns. It wasn’t that he failed his job, no. He was perfect at it; but, your marriage simply failed. You wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Kim confessed that he knew what the outcome would be, because it was that obvious. But your ex-husband had to hire a professional simply because he was too prideful to admit his wrongdoings and actually “man up” to fix his problems.

Part of you hated that you’d stuck around after the divorce, and you’re surprised Mr. Kim hadn’t suggested you no longer needed of his services. But, you suppose he was just being kind, offering the best of his services — while another part of you assumed he understood that you do need someone to vent to. Being as that, doing so helps to ease the mind. You’re sure he’s aware that everyone needs to talk to someone, even if it’s a stranger.

Except in this case, Mr. Kim isn’t a stranger — quite the opposite actually and some part of you felt vulnerable to him. The fact he knew your story; any personal thing you could think of that’s ever happened to you — you had spilled it all to him. You contemplate: Who does he confide in, despite his career being that he helps those in desperate times of need? Does he ever vent to anyone? And if so, does it help him to stay sane?

You shake your head at the thought of it all, wanting to piece the entire process altogether. You’d almost forgotten he was still here in this very room with you, awaiting a response to slip. And damn, is he patient. You curse yourself for having zoned out that much, and with a clearing of his throat you are gracefully brought back to reality. The atmosphere suddenly parching your form, an odd sensation of heat pooling over you — paired with a sheen of cold sweat approaching.

He stares into your gaze, as if studying you for a moment.

“Mrs. ____?” His eyes still glued onto you, searching for any sign that you will open your mouth for once. But, you can’t seem to say anything else but one word.

“Control.” His eyebrows flick in response and he slowly nods — having scribbled something into his notes:

Control?

“Control?” He questions, giving you the spotlight to elaborate on whatever it is you’re implying. Your foot stops dangling, having now closed both of your legs entirely, squeezing them together. The visual of that stranger’s mouth lapping at your cunt flashes through your mind.

You take a deep breath, “Yes, control.” Namjoon’s eyebrows quirk upward, as if signaling for you to continue already.

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” You blurt out while grabbing your belongings, in a hurry to leave. Namjoon seethes. He’d endured months, perhaps a year of therapy with you. He refused to let you walk out without being satisfied. And he knows exactly what you need. He had the date written down, when you came to him for one of your sessions and confessed how long it had been since you had sex. It’s a memory he’d never forget, because although he’s a licensed counselor and shouldn’t personally involve himself with his clients — with you it was different. He despised the way your ex-husband treated you. It was wrong, and he couldn’t take the pain of seeing you stressed beyond your limits.

“ ____,” His deep voice now dipped in a stern tone, one you’d never heard before, and he never calls you by your first name. Like ever. With your back turned, you can feel his presence directly behind you. So close, you could practically drown in the warmth radiating from his body. He reaches past you, his fingers finding placement over the lock of the door.

“Sit down,” he commands. You shudder under his rigid voice, finding yourself to obey as he instructs, somewhat afraid of what he’d do if you didn’t comply. His towering figure follows back to his seat prior to your attempt of departing. His legs now spread wide and back slightly slumped in his chair. Your shoulders naturally tense themselves, a result of the heat wave washing over you.

Namjoon glares at you with an unreadable expression, as if he’s peering into your soul, a sudden churn resides in your tummy. You absentmindedly pull your dress down just a tad, the material now clinging to your skin due to the sweat that built up under Namjoon’s gaze.

He strokes his chin, and you thank the Heavens for that sight because it definitely gets you going. His slender fingers grazing amongst his skin, veins popping while doing so. You can only imagine what they would feel like inside your-

“Off the record, I know what you want.” He blurts out, stilling his motions. You question him with a rise of your eyebrows. The coy smirk that appears on his lips has you boiling on the inside, your thighs rubbing together pathetically — to ease the ache within your core. What the hell is this man doing to you?

“Should it be too much for you, the safe word is velvet.”

He removes his glass and places them down on the coffee table separating you both. He proceeds to make his way toward you, eyeing you down as if you’re his prey. He unbuckles his belt and slips, “You’ll do as I say when I say it and not give any back talk. Understand?” Your mouth flies agape at his sudden change in demeanor — only adding fire to the fuel in your heat.

He tilts your chin up with his finger, “Don’t make me ask you twice.”

“Yes- Yes, Namjoon.” He slaps your face, at first in a gentle manner, your kitty throbs in response at the sudden action.

“It’s Sir to you.” You nod in reply, “Yes, S-sir.”

Namjoon sits in his favorite spot, unbuttoning his slacks. His hands snake behind the garment, running along his shaft under his briefs.

“Open your legs and play with yourself,” He demands. Before your brain could process what he requested, your body moved instead. You pry open your legs and Namjoon is instantly met with your aching cunt.

“You little slut,” He mulls with a followed growl, his cock twitching under his grip. “You came all the way here with no fucking panties?”

You nod at his question, bringing your fingers to your wet folds.

“So fucking filthy.” Namjoon pumps himself at the sight of you grazing along your clit. “I should fuck you until you can’t think anymore.”

“Please,” you whine, grinding your hips. You lick the pads of your fingers and rub your clit instinctively, a moan falling from your lips.

“Is that what you want?” He coos, precum seeping from the slit on the head of his cock. “You want me to fuck you silly? Make you cream all over my cock like the good, little bitch you are?”

Wanton moans now become uncontrollable for you, and you lose yourself in Namjoon’s sexy voice laced with lust, “Yes, Sir. P-please, fuck me. I need your cock.”

A low rumble emits from his chest, he runs his fingers through his strands that were glued to his forehead. He pushes his trousers and briefs down to his knees.

“Come here. Now.” He motions with his index finger, and you find yourself at his beck and call. Namjoon slides himself down further in his seat and gestures you over him.

“Sit on my face,” You do exactly as he says and hover over his face. He doesn’t hesitate to grip your hips and lodge his tongue inside of your hot heat. His nose nuzzles your clit in the process, soaking in the fragrance of your womanhood. He graciously fucks your hole with his tongue, then slithers along your inner folds. He sucks and tugs onto them between his plump lips, groaning into your cunt. You naturally grind your hips, following his motions.

“Oh, fuck.” You slip, while grazing your fingers within his strands. Namjoon’s fingers dig deeper onto your hips. He lays his tongue flat down to glide against your clit, your folds having been coated in his saliva. He peers up at you with those wide, sexy eyes, and the sudden shock of his palm smacking your ass jolts you forward — your grip landing on the leather seat. His moans continue to reverberate within your core, emitting a cry of euphoria from you. He wraps his plush lips around your nub and sucks feverishly. His nails graze along the flesh of your ass cheeks and…

Smack.

“Mmmm, Sir!” He shakes his head back and forth, and sucks your clit again — sending you into your second orgasm in the past week. Your thighs tremble and back arches slightly, your nails claw the leather of the seat and your hips grind along his tongue — an attempt to ride out your high. Namjoon lands another harsh smack onto your bottom, and you scream maybe just a little too loud for your liking, yet it’s music to his ears.

But, he doesn’t stop.

He continues his ministrations, and just as you try to break away from his steady pace, he constrains your hips with his large hands, locking you in place. He doesn’t let up on your now sensitive clit, and instead continues to slide his tongue all around and onto your bud. You shake your head in reply, the stimulation being too much but somehow there’s this burning ache that re-approaches, and you know there’s yet another orgasm approaching.

You push his head away, desperately wanting him to get his mouth off your aching pussy.

“P-please, Please.” You plead. But he grips onto you harder and shakes his head in a “no” gesture, his tongue gliding along your clit while doing so. His lips encase around your nub again and eagerly sucks the life out of you. Your legs shiver.

Namjoon mumbles within you, “Cum on my face, again.” His hand slaps your ass cheek again and again, sending you into your second orgasm that seems more powerful than the first. Your entire body convulses, eyes roll back, and you let out a screeching cry. He gently rubs the area he’d smacked before, and peels his mouth from you finally. He slaps your cheek again and demands, “On the couch. Now.”

You’re barely able to recover from your orgasm, and with shaky legs you set on your two feet to make your way over to the leather sofa. Joon follows behind and drops his trousers and briefs down to his ankles, kicking the garments to the side. Your met with the sight of his length, and you audibly gasp. He’s so thick, and your kitty clenches just by looking at him. His dick springs up, and you note the precum now dripping from his slit and down into a thin line.

“Come here,” He says while pushing your head onto his length. He stuffs his cock into your mouth, fucking your throat relentlessly. You grab onto his thick, juicy thighs to keep some leverage. The lewd noises of your throat being fucked can be heard through the office space. Namjoon’s breath hitches at the view of you stuffed with him entirely, his dick literally choking the life out of you. He lets out a grimacing chuckle, “Finally you can keep your mouth shut, huh? Let someone else take control, hm?” He bucks his hips forward, the veins in his arm protruding as his grip on your hair tightens, thrusting himself back and forth into your mouth.

His head falls back in ecstasy. Your nails graze along his bare thighs, begging for a release of air. And you assume that inspires him to torture you even more because before you could process what’s happening. He pinches your nose shut, to keep you from breathing, and holds himself at the back of your throat. You pound his thighs as a result.

“Look at me.” He commands, and with tears streaming down your cheeks, your gaze follows up to his hooded lids as you eagerly pound your fists onto his thighs and scratch the flesh. You’re convinced you are on the verge of passing out until he lets out the sexiest moan you’d ever heard in your life and that’s when his thighs tense up in your touch, his lower abdomen contracts, and bursts of warm cum shoot down your throat. You shut your eyes to focus on not passing out, but somehow with his added jizz, it doesn’t help. You continue to smack his thighs to signal you’re on your way to Heaven if he doesn’t let up. You feel his cock gradually easing out, and then he says…

“Fucking swallow.”

And so you do, managing to swallow every drop of him and finally he releases his throbbing member from your mouth. As soon as you are let free to breathe in some kind of air, you suck in a huge breath — followed by some coughs to gain your breathing back, and then an odd sensation within your head subsides. Once again, you can’t recover. Namjoon pulls you by your hair and shoves you toward the leather sofa.

“Bend down.” And you do exactly as you’re told, obeying him as if you’re a puppy and he’s your owner. Namjoon pumps himself and slaps your ass once you bend completely over, arching your back to push your bottom out more profoundly.

“Such a good slut.” He slaps your ass and you whimper at his harsh demeanor. Somehow you manage to wiggle your goods at him, wanting to know what that monster between his legs feel like, and your craving doesn’t go unnoticed. Namjoon tugs your hair, making you arch your back whilst he forces your entire form against his chest. His stiff length is pressed against your ass, and you find yourself grinding against him for just any type of friction to ease the level of horny that’s overcome your being.

“Look at you all needy for my cock. I don’t think you’re fucking ready for me, hm?” His hold on you grows tighter, and the sharp pain of him pulling your strands, mixed with his cock rutting against your behind, strangely makes your core twitch — a dire need of attention.

“Oh, but Sir! I am ready. Plea-” With that, Namjoon shoves you forward back into doggystyle. And when your back isn’t arched enough to his liking, he takes a big blow to your ass, prompting you to adjust your posture. You’re sure by the end of this so called “session” you’ll slip from his establishment sore and bruised. The tip of his cock nudges at your entrance, he runs himself along your dripping labia, making sure to smother himself in your wet. The rising heat in the pit of your core makes you anxious. You can’t remember the last time it had been when you’d had sex, and you supposed Namjoon knows this. You’re not even sure what all this means. How could you both look at each other the same after this is all done? Will he let you go after this? Maybe refer a different counselor? Or will this continue to be what his “sessions” are about? Or is this just a one time thing, and after today, everything will go back to normal? But how could that be possible?

Your on-going thoughts are put on a hold when a slight stretching-like burn approaches so sudden, and you’re left with a wide-opened mouth. Your nails scrape the material of the couch you have left to hold onto. Namjoon feels like nothing you’d ever felt before. He’s big, you know that. But holy hell does he feel different than he looks; it’s something you can’t explain. With toes curling, you call out his name as if he’s the only person left on the plant. What did you do to deserve this kind of dick? Your walls clamp eagerly around his shaft, sucking him in entirely — like a vacuum.

“Shit! It’s been that long, huh?” He admits, gritting his teeth at the sentiment of how tight you are. “He- Let this go?” He adds, while bottoming out completely. Pulling almost all the way out to slam right back into you — your body jerking forward in the process. “S-so fucking stupid. How- Mmmm.” Namjoon can’t contain himself; he pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts, trying beyond his limits to not blow his load into you so quickly.

“How could he let this go?” He pulls out and slams back into you again, this time with a harsh punch. He reaches for your hair, balling his fist into the strands, because for this time, he can’t just take it easy on you.

“More for me, then.” And that’s when you scream as if you’re being murdered — more like your vagina is. Namjoon begins a brutal pace, ramming into you and having no second thoughts about it.

“Oh! Unfgh, S-sir!” Your eyes shut instantly and face scrunches up in pleasure; you’d honestly never felt so high in your entire life. If you could be fucked like this at least once a week, you’d truly die happy.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been wanting to fuck you dumb?” He shoots with a hint of hostility. “I was relieved-” He punctuates with a harsh thrust, “To find out you both divorced… Wanted to fuck the shit out of you ever since you stepped foot into my office… Told me every fucked up thing he ever did to you.” You’re not even sure why but his confession has you smothering him in your juices. The fact he had a desire for you was hot, and you would be lying if you said you wouldn’t have fucked him the first time you had a session with him — that is, without your now ex-husband. Maybe Namjoon is right, maybe you are a slut. But who cares?

Namjoon releases his pull on your hair and pushes your head forward, you languidly fall onto the cushion and bury your face within it while he continues to bang out places in you that you never knew could be reached — his animalistic mannerisms are beyond your comprehension.

“Oh, yes!” You cry out, your figure shifting upwards from his vigorous pace. You nearly topple over at how hard he’s fucking you, and at this moment, you can’t fully think straight with him fucking you senselessly. The only sound you’re aware of is the slapping of his balls against your ass and his grunting here and there. You mumble a few incoherent words, and then a few slapping sounds follows. Your ass cheeks now burning with a hot passion.

“Look at you-” Namjoon grunts as he stills himself inside of you and twists your body around, leaving you to rest on your side. “Can’t even speak properly with my dick inside of you.”

Slap.

“Should clog this little pussy of yours up with my children.”

“Fucking come here,” He hauls you toward him to bring you closer, his cock sheathing itself fully inside of you. Not able to form proper words, your nails drag across his thigh and you wrap your leg around his waist, the heel of your foot digging into his bottom cheek. And just as you blinked, he wraps his hand around your throat and begins plunging his cock in and out of you repeatedly. You’re so close to cumming again, that you find some strength to ease your way between your legs and mindlessly rub your clit. Namjoon notes your actions and squeezes your throat harder.

“Yes! F-fuck!” You attempt to choke out; then Namjoon rams into that certain spot within you that has you seeing stars, and your orgasm floods your entire self that you’re shaking underneath him.

“Fuck yeah,” He coos while releasing your throat and slapping your face left and right. “He was so stupid, hm?” Your walls contracting around him has his cock twitching in a way that he knows is a warning of his impending orgasm. You clench so tightly around him, almost locking him in place, whilst creaming all over his shaft.

“Say it.” You whimper in reply, and he grips your face in place to keep you from squirming. “I want you to say how stupid your ex-husband was for leaving you. Say it now.” Your body continues to tremble and grow limp, yet you force the words from your mouth that even you surprised your own self.

“M-my ex-husband was stupid for leaving me, ahh!” Namjoon jams into you again, his thrusts now a much sloppier pace while his thumb reaches for your clit again, rubbing relentlessly. You wiggle around to somewhat ease your now sensitive, aching clit. But he doesn’t let you. He slaps your face again and pins your arms above your head, his body landing fully on top of yours. He licks the pads of his fingers to find your clit again, and you don’t think it’s possible to cum for the fourth time today, but you’re convinced Namjoon would prove otherwise.

“I want you to cum on my cock again.” He states, with a much softer tone this time, added with, “And tell me how much you’re worth having.” Another wave washes over you, granting his wish. Your chest heaves up and down in an attempt to fully gain your normal breathing pattern back. Your writhing body sends a shock of pleasure straight to his groin, and the need to cum is slowly advancing.

You cling onto Namjoon, and slip “I- am worth it. I-I’m worth having,” It’s as if your simple doing of following his command pushes him over the edge. But your added comment fuels him on even more.

“Cum inside of me, please. Make me full of your children.” With that, Namjoon shudders above you. His member pulses inside of you, streams of his cum color your insides. His lavender-stained strands glue themselves to his forehead, and it isn’t until now that you realize how wet your skin is, courtesy of the leather material below you.

Within the silence that subsides afterwards, aside from the melody of the both of you panting, Namjoon breaks the ice.

“You’re more than enough.”

#bts smut #namjoon smut #hyunglinenetwork #btsguild #btsgoldnet #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #houseofddaeng #btswritingcafe #mikrogalaxynet #ficswithluv #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook

[gallavictorious]

Seven Days left~ Give us 7 favorite Shameless moments

One day late – whoops! Sorry about that, sweet nonnie; this was the most delightful ask and I was very stoked to get it. ❤️❤️❤️

Disclaimer: I misread the question because I’m a dumbass and went for Gallavich moments. My bad. :o These are seven of my favourite moments, by the way: I just can't decisively pick my ultimate top seven. Also put them down in chronological order rather than in order of how fond of them I am, because it'd would've been too hard to do otherwise.

4x08: “You coming back?” This scene is quite uncomfortable, what with Ian's demand for blowjobs and Mickey's obvious (though temporary) discomfort, but I think that's what has me returning to it again and again (and what has had me writing one very long meta and a fic about it). It represents a shift in their dynamic, with Ian claiming some power in the relationship for himself, and even though it is uncomfortable, it's fascinating to see – and needed to happen for them to work in the long term (even if it maybe didn't need to happen like that – but then again, it's just so in character for both of them, however messed up?). The look Lip and Mickey exchanges after Ian's “relationship issues” never fails to get to me either, and I think it's important to note that Lip makes sure that Ian is okay with the situation and then he leaves them to it; he doesn't try to interfere or dissuade Ian. I keep wondering what that means to Mickey, having Lip – who's certainly not a friend at that point – know about him, and about him and Ian, and not really caring beyond making sure his baby brother is okay? I kind of think that maybe Lip and Mandy both showing Mickey that they're aware of the situation but not making a big deal out of it is really fucking important – people can know he's gay without it having to be a thing and without the world ending. Terry is a horrible outlier.

4x11: “Just wondering if we're a couple or not.” Maybe it's the mutual manhandling, maybe it's them trying to negotiate and sort out the current dynamics of their relationship. There's so much tension and so many layers here, history lingering, even as they're both fond and playful: lots to unpack. Damngoodcoffee once noted that Ian almost looks scared when Mickey pushes him to the bed, and I haven't been able to unsee that since, or to forget that the last time Ian pushed Mickey to verbalize the truth of their relationship Mickey kicked him in the face. I also love love love the lead up with Carl and Ian, “do you love Mickey?” – “I like how he smells.” Please take note of Mickey washing his hands: the dirtiest white boy in American is an example to penis pee:ers everywhere.

5x08: “Sorry I'm late.” Ian's surprise, and the look of hesitant wonder as Mickey shows up and moves to lie down next to him, like he can't quite believe that Mickey is really there, that he actually came. Mickey's quiet apology, no excuses or explanations about how he needed some time to deal (which, you know, it's very fair for him to need); he's there for Ian now, putting his own fears and pain and needs to the side to be what (he thinks) Ian needs him to be. That admittedly doesn't work out great for either of them in the end, but still, in this moment, it is what they both desperately crave: to just have each other and find shelter in the other's arms. Ungh. That gentle kiss to Ian's hair, how Ian finally relaxes and reaches up to grasp Mickey's wrist, holding on. It breaks my heart and soothes me, all at the same time.

10x07: Domestic bitches. Probably the scene I've tag ranted about the most, because I. Love. It. To. Pieces. Ian's so glad to be back in a place where he feels at home and can be useful by doing important stuff like picking up shampoo and shit for Mickey (in prison, I think he was acutely aware of them being on Mickey's turf and him feeling a bit not comfortable with being the one in need of protection?) and he's so damned happy that he gets to be here with Mickey. Gets to help him out and playfully slap his ass and kiss his cheek and squeeze his titty and just love him and be with him. And Mickey, being completely unconcerned about this display in front of Sandy; in fact he seems to adore being so obviously claimed and loved and wanted, and that's such a huge shift from the boy who was once terrified by the idea of letting Ian kiss him even in private. Argh. Just. Them being domestic bitches and loving it – and each other – so fucking much. They're giddy with it here and it makes my heart swell.

10x10: “When you know, you know. Right?” I have an absurd weakness for Ian being petty, and Mickey really had it coming here, so. You know. Allow me an evil chuckle. The Byron of it all is an unwelcome distraction (and Mickey gritting out “the love of my life” makes me cringe so hard every single time), but then I look at the absolute glee in Ian's eyes when he realizes that Mickey is going to a hipster concert and yeah, this is Kee's shriek of delight. Mickey looks very good in his shirt and with the hair and the cigarette, and that's always an easy sell with me. (He also looks so uncomfortable with Ian finding out about the concert but, again, he kind of had it coming.) Aah. Ian's certainly not the only petty character on the show, but it just looks better on him than on anyone else. He's got it down.

11x10: “Hit my husband again, I'll fucking kill you.” Mickey isn't even in this scene, and still. I didn't expect Ian to take such a firm stance on this (considering that Lip is his brother and Mickey was not innocent in the fight) but maybe that's why I love it so much? I swear, the jolt I felt when hearing it for the first time, it nigh on knocked me over. “My husband” Ian says, making a point of emphasising the nature of his relationship to Mickey; the Gallaghers generally strike me as having a general expectation of putting birth family above partners when push comes to shove. Fiona certainly did for a long while, and though Lip's kind of screwing his siblings over to create the life he wants with Tami and Fred this season, I think he still sees the sibling group as Ian's primary unit, and Ian wants to remind him that this isn't the whole truth anymore. Also, protective!Ian is glorious. (I love me some brothers on the porch, so even without this line, this is a great scene. But with it – holy mother of God, I've been slain. I'd feel embarrassed about the number of times I played it on repeat the next day, but I'm too old for that shit.)

11x11: Intro Speaking of protective!Ian... I'm sorry, there's just no arguing with the aftercare vibes and I don't even know how to process that properly. Mickey's a little out of it, seems like, since he's rather slow to respond to the intrusion and displays none of his usual intiative and agression, whereas Ian is very quick to shift from gazing lovingly at Mickey to chasing us out with a determination and anger usually reserved for Frank. I mean, how else would you explain it? (And okay, it's an intro and breaking the fourth wall, so speculating about when it happens in canon is of course foolish, but I'm just saying that they're in their new flat with very little furniture still so it has to happen around the time of the last episode but I very much doubt they played around like this when everything was so weird between them so probably not between 11x10 and 11x11, but say they got back to their place after their reconciliation on their old bed and just kept on reaffirming their bond in all possible ways? Yes? Yes.)

Special mention: 10x06 Deleted Bathroom Scene. Mickey is looking fine as fuck – please, do wear black tanks more often, I am begging you, Mick – and his eyebrow game is in excellent shape, and then we have Ian seeing to his wounds (be still my heart) and pulling at his hair when Mickey's just a shade too bratty and Mickey's little look of 'okay sure I had that coming' and I'm sorry, but I am dead now. Deceased. Only two things detract from this otherwise perfect scene: Ian's titties tattoo on prominent and unfortunate display, and the confusion about whether or not Mickey didn't even learn the simplest Spanish words during his stint in Mexico.

So, that's me. I could just as easily have picked seven completely different moment, but I do love all of these very much.

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #meta #favorite moments #just thinking about them makes me SO HAPPY #this ask made me so happy #asks

[syubub]

JUNGKOOK SOULMATE READING

Disclaimer: tarot is speculative and to be taken with a grain of salt.

Let's begin. The long awaited Koo reading.

To start, koos energy is a really rich, solid purple that is kinda pearlescent? It hard to explain but it kinda looks like this

So thats pretty neat. Most of the time the way I see energy it isn't ever really opaque so that was new for me. Another thing that was new for me was when I went to, essentially, connect to koos energy there was this like glass door looking thing and, it sounds nuts I know, but I left an offering of energy at the glass thing? Kinda like leaving flowers outside the door and then he removed the glass thing and connected his energy with me.

Now its even weirder because his soulmates energy was already with him so I didn't even need to connect with his energy in order to connect with the soulmate. His soulmates energy was just this white sparkly blob standing by him (I tend to see the boys when connecting with the energy because I already know what they look like) and immediately his soulmate was "chatting" with me. I was surprised so I was like, "do you have any messages that you want to say?"

SOULMATE DELIVERED.

The messages I got were

You'll see

Open your arms to love

Carry the burdens as a badge

Afraid to lose you

Cool cool cool. I think his soulmate is aware of all the upheaval that he's been doing on a soul level recently. I talked some about it in this reading x and kinda this one x I think his soulmate is being very encouraging. (Also, I think his whole upheaval really had to do with him not feeling like a person? Idk thats just the vibe in getting. Its like he needed to learn how to feel again and learn that he can have true and authentic love)

Now the open your arms to love thing is cute because I also wrote down, "He's suffered enough" and "Love is hard for him" (I swear to God I heard a tiny little "hey!" From jk in the background lol)

His soulmate is very aware of the struggles he's been through and is going through and is very understanding that he needs patience. So cute.

Keep in mind the reading hasn't even started yet. We still hanging on his little energy platform chatting and his Soulmate is like, "I don't know him" ... I didn’t even ask that yet but oki. So they don't know eachother. And again, out of nowhere his soulmate wanted me to know that their hair is blonde. Awesome. This could mean that their hair is blonde when they meet or that's just the natural color.

I was like, dude, I haven't pulled cards yet. And his soulmate was like, "no shit"... soulbae has jokes. I was like, "You're funny" and they were like, "You can write that one down too"

His soulmate and him definitely have witty banter and they tease eachother a lot.

Now, some freaky shit. I was like cool I'm gonna do the reading now, its awesome that you're connecting with me personally and it'd be great if you could just continue to help me through the reading. And they were like, "yeah no prob" and then dissolved into my energy? Idk. Wtf. His soulmate was like cool I'll help out for sure and gave me a massive direct link. That hasn't happened before. Neat.

On to the actual cards finally! So, for the cards that represent Soulbae are, kid you the fuck not, The Lovers and knight of wands rev. So. This person is very passionate and driven. A little scattered and impulsive but with the lovers card they are very sure of the choices they make. Very honest and open in communication. Also the fucking lovers card. Soulmate shit.

Now. For personality I drew 2 of swords rev. Death, hermit and knight of pentacles rev. Now. I think this person is elusive. A wrote down "no one quite knows" so I think this is the type of person that has never ending depth. They are ever changing yet always the same? They are kinda blocked off and hard to get to know. You have to earn their trust for sure. Also definitely a perfectionist. Can get bored easily too. I also got slave, knight rev and bully. This person is very strong willed and might have some past trauma that they've yet to let go of. Has probably been in some shit relationships because they tend to have "delusions" about romance (more so i get the feeling that they had high expectations that would never be able to be fulfilled? Like they have a tendency to plan everything out in their head and if it doesn't go exactly to plan then its not good enough.) This person might also be stuck, not moving forward because they have too much faith that everything is just gonna magically work out. Probably spiritual.

Onto the relationship now. We have THE LOVERS AGAIN, 9 of cups, wheel of fortune and king of wands. So much contentment. Its fucking destiny. Its the most beautiful, strong, loving and influential relationship. It is what you dream of as a kid. Theres so much honest and open communication in this relationship. UGH its so fucking good. They are in love and its fucking destiny thats divinely guided. Thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

We have the pillar of light, sisterhood of the rose and the age of light. They are going to accidently make eachother fucking woke im cackling. They help eachother become more intune with ~spiritual shit~

Now for this person's sign. Air sign with some fire. I think there might be gemini in there somewhere.

Now for career. I'm confused as fuck. Maybe a life coach? Could also be a personal trainer? This person is really successful and does whatever they feel called to do? I'm not really sure?

Now for where they're from. Oki oki oki. This person has probably moved a lot as a kid and probably enjoys travel a lot. They value the knowledge that the wold has to offer!

Message from his soulmate to him: simplify your life, you think someone is lying (they are) and time to let go. Theres something that he is holding onto (some fake friends perhaps?) That he needs to let go of. Theres also a message of slowing down and resting. Life has been busy for him and he needs to... simplify...

Now we have, balance masculine and feminine energies. Koo needs balance in his life. Him and his soulmate balance pretty well in terms of energy!

For the little homemade cards we have, serendipity and focus. This is his soulmate saying, "hey, focus on the now. Keep doing what you're doing and we'll meet when the time is right" I also made a note that they could possibly meet at a concert (I don’t think it would be a bts concert.)

For descriptors we have: older, masculine, outgoing, long hair, light hair (remember when I said blonde earlier), outgoing again. So this person has masculine features. I also made a note of dark eyes that are like, dark brown grey? And a fit and built body. Also dresses like Koo but a bit more professional or classy. Like classy emo.

Now I also pulled a fortune from my bowl of fortunes and got, "you don't get in life what you want; you get in life what you are." He needs to focus on bettering himself.

Cool cool cool. Now we have Defend to the end , the worth while. This card talks about seeing things for what they really are. Not being swayed by gilded things. Its about learning to love and choose love. Not being afraid of fear. Living your truth. To fight for love and honor and ditch the shit that isn't genuine or doesn't come from a place of love. Its about standing your ground even when its hard. Not compromising yourself.

Overall koo and his soulmate have such a cute and loving relationship. Koo has worked really hard on a soul level and physical level. He's betting himself and he's learning about genuine love. His soulmate couldn't give less shits about whether or not he's famous. His soulmate sees him for who he is, who he really truly is at his core. He doesn't need to protect or keep his walls up. He's open and honest with his soulmate and they are both focused on growing and becoming better people.

TLDR: KOO GETS ALL THE LOVE HE DESERVES

#bts tarot #bts #bts reactions #jungkook #bts rm #taehyung #seokjin #bts imagines #yoongi #bts jhope #hoseok #bts suga #bts v #park jimin #jk #kookie

[hopelesshawks]

Physical Fatality Part 12- Grief

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Masterlist Ko-fi

Over the course of your relationship Hawks has seen you pissed off quite a bit. He’s seen you mildly annoyed, he’s seen you decently irritated, and he’s seen you practically rabid with rage. He is intimately familiar with the spectrum of your anger.

And yet all of those times combined cannot compare to the level of rage he sees in you now.

Red Riot, who Hawks now realizes must have arrived with you, rushes to Bakugo’s side to check on him. Only once you’re positive Hawks and Bakugo won’t lunge at each other again do you unceremoniously drop Hawks to the ground. “What the fuck is your problem?” you demand as you storm over to him. “Look I’m sorry but-“ he starts but you don’t let him finish. “There shouldn’t be a ‘but’ in that sentence Hawks why the fuck are you fighting Bakugo of all people? You could’ve killed him!” “Technically he could’ve killed me too, let’s not make him sound helpless.” “That is NOT the point Hawks.” “Right yea no, of course it isn’t. Look I’m sorry things got out of hand but-” “Out of hand? OUT OF HAND? Your lack of self awareness is genuinely fucking phenomenal my GOD.” “Christ will you fucking listen to me instead of cutting me off every fucking time I try to speak?” “You don’t get to make demands right now! You know all this shit reflects back on me!” “Right your precious fucking reputation.” “Yes! My job relies on it remember!” “Could you forget about All Might and the press and whatever else for one goddamn minute? Our relationship is fucking drowning in it!” “What fucking relationship? I don’t even know what the fuck this is anymore.” “What are you on about now?” “We’re not lovers Hawks! We’re just strangers with the same damn hunger to be touched, to be loved, to feel anything at all and it’s gotten genuinely pathetic now.” “Pathetic?” “Yes pathetic! Because clearly we aren’t supposed to be together!” “Says who?” “Look around you Hawks! Apparently fucking everyone and everything!”

Your words seem to echo around the two of you, both of your chests heaving in the wake of the argument. Both of you had forgotten yourselves for a moment and as awareness creeps back in you suddenly can feel the eyes of every reporter and civilian in the area boring into you. “What are you saying (y/n)?” Hawks asks and his voice is heartbreakingly quiet, hands clenched into fists. “I’m saying this is done,” you reply. “Don’t do this, please, I love you and-“ “No you don’t Hawks. You might think you do but you don’t. We love love and the idea of it and for fleeting moments between the arguments and the press and our bosses and everything else we thought we had it but we don’t. Or at least it’s not strong enough to out weigh everything else. I’m sorry,” you sigh before turning away. Cameras flash and reporters shout questions but you ignore them all as you walk over to where Kirishima is helping Bakugo up off the ground. “(Y/n)-“ Bakugo starts to say but you cut him off. “Don’t. I’ll deal with you after we get you patched up,” you tell him before you and Kirishima start walking him back to your agency.

Hawks stares after you, feeling frozen in place as you leave him behind and take his shattered heart with you. “Told you so,” Monoma suddenly taunts from beside him. Hawks jumps, having not noticed when Monoma had come down from the building’s rooftop. Hawks whirls around to face him, grabbing hold of the collar of his shirt. “Ah, ah, ah, don’t you think you’ve done enough damage?” Monoma asks cheekily, jerking his head towards the still flashing cameras. Hawks’ grip tightens momentarily before releasing the other man. Unfortunately Monoma has a point and Hawks really isn’t eager to make things even harder for you. “Don’t worry bird boy, I’ll invite you to our wedding,” Monoma tells the other man before flouncing away, pleased with himself. Hawks tells himself the best he can do now is wait for you to calm down and talk to you then so without another word and before he can do anything else to worsen the situation, he takes off back to Endeavor’s agency and hopes the others from the task force will have good news to share.

The first words he hears when he walks into the meeting room on the top floor are “You’re a fucking idiot” from none other than Shoto Todoroki himself. “I really don’t want to talk about it,” Hawks sighs. “You’re the only one. Pretty much every gossip blog and news outlet ever is talking about it,” Tokoyami tells him. “Headlines are all about how (y/n) is rubbing off on you in the worst possible ways and speculating about your break up,” Midoriya adds in, an unspoken accusation buried beneath his faux neutral tone. “We didn’t break up, she’s just upset,” Hawks denies, desperate to be right. “Really? Looked like a break up to me and the thousands of people who’ve already read the articles and the few dozen people that watched this whole train wreck you started,” Shoto quips. “Can we please just focus on the mission? Please tell me you got good intel,” Hawks sighs. “Since some of us are capable of doing our job, yes. Luckily for you the terror group is in the building we were watching and since you and Kacchan drew so much attention to the other building they think we’re way off base in our search for them. We should be able to make a move by this weekend,” Midoriya informs him. “Great. What now?” Hawks replies. “Now we wait to move out and I go back to my agency to reassure my probably panicked best friend,” Midoriya bites out before handing the last of his operation notes to Shoto and storming out.

“Jesus, I thought Deku was a puppy,” Hawks remarks as the door slams closed. “Midoriya’s always been scary when he wants to be, he’s just also very genuinely kind,” Tokoyami shrugs. “Which is exactly why being on his bad side is a nightmare,” Shoto points out. “Thanks Shoto. Really making me feel better.” “I wasn’t trying to make you feel better. In fact you should feel bad.” “I’m gonna call her,” Hawks sighs as he pulls out his phone to dial your number. The first call rings for awhile before going to voicemail. So does the second. The third is sent straight to voicemail. The fourth doesn’t even go through as he’s promptly alerted his number has been blocked. Hawks swears and tosses his phone onto the table in frustration. “I must have really crossed the line,” he sighs. “You think?” Shoto asks with a raised eyebrow.

“For the record I threw the first punch,” Bakugo admits somewhat sheepishly as you dab at one of several cuts he sustained during the fight. “Unprovoked?” “Obviously not.” “Then it doesn’t change anything. And you’re not off the hook either, what the fuck were you thinking?” you question as you start bandaging him up. “I don’t know, Monoma was being a little shit which got Hawks all worked up and then I tried to get him to back down and we both got worked up and well... you know how that went,” he admits. He watches as your phone lights up again with Hawks’ contact info. You grab it, sending him to voicemail again before blocking his number and putting your phone back down. “Are you sure about breaking up with him?” Bakugo asks and you can tell by how uncharacteristically gentle his voice is that he’s concerned. “I.... don’t know. In a perfect world I’d love to take the time to unpack all of this bullshit and work it out with him. I already know I’ll miss him. I’ll miss the mornings with him laying in my bed and the thought of a forever him and me but I bet all he’ll miss is my body,” you confess. “Don’t you think you’re not giving him enough credit?” “Probably. But I can’t sit at home and be his housewife which means I have to focus on salvaging my career. I’m lucky All Might is out of the office, gives me time to try and think up a sales pitch.” “You’re a good hero (y/n). All Might knows that.” “He also knows he gave me an ultimatum,” you point out. You finish off bandaging Bakugo up and he looks as if he’s about to say something else but you resume talking before he can. “I’m going to head home and lie low. Hopefully I’ll still be employed next time you see me,” you sigh before giving Bakugo’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze and walking out.

The video of you and Hawks’ break up is already viral by the time you get back to your apartment.

You walk straight past the living room, completely ignoring your concerned roommates, and head right into your room. Your phone alerts you to several no doubt concerned texts from Midoriya but you ignore them all as you collapse onto your bed. You lie there for awhile, letting your phone ping almost incessantly with concern from your friends and all the news alerts mentioning your name. When your ringtone cuts through all the other alerts you almost ignore it, assuming it’s Midoriya calling to check on you. Your heart sinks when All Might’s name flashes on the screen instead. You take a deep breath, stubbornly ignoring the way it rattles in your chest, and then answer the phone. “(Y/n)....” All Might starts. “I know,” you answer. “We had a deal.” “I’m a good hero. You know I am.” “I know you are. But we had a deal. I’m sorry.”

Numb.

Achingly,

Heart wrenchingly,

World endingly,

Numb.

That’s how you feel as you listen to All Might continue to justify his decision without actually hearing a word he’s saying. You vaguely register apologies and talk of the agency’s reputation, but for the most part you’re too busy feeling your entire universe crashing down around you to pay much attention to his words. You don’t know how long it’s been when you finally register that he’s been calling your name. “(Y/n)! Are you alright?” All Might presses. You don’t answer. You hang up your phone, face still blank, as Denki and Mina appear in your doorway. They both look you over for a long moment before wordlessly climbing onto your bed to join you. They cuddle up on either side of you and only once you’re safely wrapped up in their arms do you finally allow yourself to break. You mourn the career you worked so hard for as sobs wrack through your body. Your chest and ribs burn with the force of it but the feeling is nothing compared to the bitter grief of losing your job. As your friends hold you, you utter only one heartbreaking phrase between sobs:

“What am I if not a hero?”

Author’s Note: 🥲 we’re getting close to the end game now everyone, and boy oh boy does it hurt

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh @pixelwisp @pokesosa @lildockel @bread0nhead @lavender-moon13

#hopelesspf #hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n

[matildashoney]

London Town

Loving You’s the Antidote Extra

MASTERLIST // MOODBOARD // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST

TAG LIST: @ihearthemcallingforyou, @goldenfeelin, @detroitkiwis

talk to me about it!

thank you miss @berrynarrybanana​ for creating the sex bucket list fic challenge! i wanted to write something with the mile high club for harry and ames a while ago and this gave me every opportunity to do so. this is pure filth about harry and amelie getting back to london recently after being stuck in malibu during the quarantine.

warning: this is literally 4.4k of filth. i can’t be sorry for what my brain has done. i take no responsibility.

Harry is guarded, to say the least. There was too much happening for him not to be.

One of the security guards that was driving them to the airport got out with Amelie first, making sure that there weren’t any photographers waiting outside for them (which there shouldn’t be, all things considered) and having her get inside to wait for Harry when he was able to get all their luggage and out of the car. Harry was nervous, his hoodie tugged over his head and his passport and identification all sitting in his hoodie pocket. Amelie was wearing the hoodie they bought at a Spice Girls concert the year before, but it was beginning to fit a big snuggly around her tummy and they knew that anyone that saw them would start pregnancy speculations before they could even begin trying to have a baby themselves. Her hand grabs his as soon as he walks beside her, interlocking their fingers and hiding her face in his chest, the exhaustion beginning to set in and the bruising on her hips from the needles beginning to ache as she stands for much too long without rest.

Harry guides them through security, his heart breaking as Amelie knuckles her eyes and desperately clings to her last bit of energy and pouts as his bag gets checked once more and she isn’t able to sink into his embrace as she wants. Considering the amount of time Harry and Amelie have spent together in quarantine, it would have made more sense that they need space, when in fact, Amelie has never been clingier. Not that Harry pays any mind to it. He knows that it’s with the best intentions, all because she loves him and is happy to be with him. Her hormones are messy with the new birth control she was trying, as well, with all intentions to perhaps make her body ready to be pregnant later in the year. All Amelie wanted was a good snuggle a very hefty amount of the day. Harry was happy to give that to her.

Los Angeles International Airport is surprisingly empty, Harry thought there would have been more celebrities trying to get back to wherever they’re from now that flights are slowly beginning to depart again – not that they really should be. Harry is excited to get back to England, London particularly. Amelie, although her heart is in love with California, misses London, misses home. All of the exhibition pieces that she was working on were left there, and for nearly four months her creativity was dry and there was nothing she could think of. Harry misses his family, his home. He even misses Tigger, especially now that he’s been staying with Anne for nearly six months. Harry misses their routine. Amelie misses the comfort of being home.

Malibu is home in a lot of ways.

Malibu is where they said the three words for the first time. Malibu is where they got engaged. Malibu is where they got married on a whim. All of Amelie’s family is nearby and their best friends and godchildren are only a fifteen-minute drive away. Mostly, it’s being together that makes it feel like home. Home is so subjective. To Harry, after travelling for so many years, unsteady relationships, the media overwhelming him with labels and rumours and the way his mental health suffered, Amelie really became the one thing that made the most sense, that made him feel safe. To Amelie, with all that she went through, the idea that someone could make you feel like home was absolutely mad, and there was a nagging voice that always told her she wouldn’t find it, and then Harry waltzed into her life and simply knocked every single thought she had about her life into another world; Harry made her feel as though there was nothing that she couldn’t do, and maybe he was right about that. Home was with each other, no matter where they are or where they go.

Harry squeezes Amelie’s hand, the engagement ring and wedding band ice on his skin. He smiles though, the feeling that the symbol gives him making his eyes sting with tears. He sniffles, drawing her attention and her eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. He shakes his head, kissing her hairline and nodding to the near-empty terminal that was about to board their flight.

“’ey,” Amelie whispers, brushing her thumb under his eye and moving the mask slightly to kiss his cheek, “you okay?”

“Thought about how we’re married and got all,” Harry mutters, his nose in her hair and laughing to himself. “Don’t know, guess m’heart is softer, now.”

“Always has been, baby,” she smiles, laying her thighs over his legs and cuddling into his chest, her eyes falling shut as he gently rubs her back. “Think they’ll yell at us for laying in the same bed, again?”

“Don’t think so since everyone has to stay away,” he mumbles, taking in the way the ten other passengers for the flight are wearing masks and gloves. “Can’t wait to be home and don’t have to wear this thing.”

“Meaning you’re gon’a be naked in the garden most days and dragging me out with you.”

Harry snickers, meeting Amelie’s knowing stare and shrugging his shoulders, “As long as you’re naked, too.”

“Don’t try your luck, Mr Styles,” Amelie sighs, squeezing his hips as his thumb dips beneath the waistband of her leggings. “Harry.”

“Didn’t wear any knickers.”

“Je ne voulais pas qu'ils me montent au cul pendant douze heures,” she whispers under her breath, trying to avoid the entire terminal hearing that her decision this morning was to go without any knickers on an eleven-hour flight.

Harry smirks, tugging his mask to his chin and pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, “Tu essaies d'entrer dans le club du mile high, chérie?” For a man that slept maybe three hours, Harry is awfully horny at barely four in the afternoon.

Amelie lightly smacks his hand as his fingers inch towards her inner thigh, coming dangerously close to her centre. “Harry, I swear to God.”

“Oh, it could be fun, Ames.”

“Ah, yes, because you,” Amelie’s voice lowers to a whisper that even Harry can barely hear, “fucking me in our seats in first-class sounds like so much fun when we could get caught.”

“’s the thrill of it all, baby.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t use the baby card,” she says warningly, her eyes narrowing at the man she loves with her whole heart, trying to convey her seriousness. Her thighs clench around his hand, a near-death grip to break his movements where his fingertips would brush over her heat.

“Need those fingers, Cherry.”

“Don’t stick your hands in my leggings, then.” Harry smirks at Amelie. “That doesn’t mean you find a loophole and stick your hand over my fanny either, thank you.”

“Mean, technically I’m not over your fanny.” Harry laughs so loudly, the entire terminal turns to face him. “Need you to tell me when the hell you started calling it that, though. Taking to all the slang now that you’re half a Brit, huh.”

“Much less aggressive than calling it my,” Amelie whispers, “cunt. Don’t you think?”

“Quite like calling it that,” he shrugs, weaselling his hand further up her thigh, nearly holding her heat in his palm. “’s mine to call anything, you know.”

“Oh,” she snorts, shaking her head and lightly pushing his shoulder and smirking when he grabs her hand with his other hand, kissing her palm with a smirk. “Is that how marriage works? Don’t think that was on the document we signed.”

“Mean, as far as I’m aware. Got like,” Harry hums, pretending to count on his fingers the number of months since they’d gotten married in March, “three months under m’belt. ‘s kinda like how you say you want my cock in your mouth.”

“Harry, quit it. There are people around.”

“Half of them would need a hearing aid to hear me, honey.”

Amelie shakes her head, “Whipping your best terms of endearment isn’t making me any more inclined to have sex on the plane.”

“Hate to break it to you, angel, but you saying, fanny, doesn’t really give me an inclination to stick my hand in your pants, anyways.”

“Good,” she says, wrapping her hand around his wrist and moving it away, interlocking their fingers and grabbing their bags to walk to the desk to board. “Not to mention, it’s barely four in the afternoon.”

“Oh, time is a social construct, baby. Isn’t that what you say when you’re begging for it in the morning before I have get on a flight out somewhere?” Harry whispers in her ear, smiling at the flight attendant and handing his phone for the boarding passes.

Amelie releases Harry’s hand, tugging her sweatshirt sleeves over her fingers and crossing her arms over her chest. “I hate you.”

Harry smirks, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and kissing her head, his phone stuck in the front of his The Face sweatshirt that Amelie threw onto the bed for him to wear while he was sleeping. “No, you really don’t.”

“Welcome,” one flight attendant says through their mask, oblivious to the sexual tension spurring in between the freshly married couple and the way her hand was holding his simply to ensure that he wouldn’t squeeze her breast with his hand hanging limply over her shoulder.

Harry steps inside the row first, and Amelie knows why he’s hiding in the seat that would be the least likely to be seen by the flight attendants. Her head shakes with a sigh, heaving a breath and settling into the chair, giving a warning glance to him as his lips toy with a mischievous grin.

“Garder les mains pour soi.”

“Can’t keep m’hands to m’self for eleven hours,” Harry stresses, his cheek laying on her shoulder as he stares at her through hooded eyelids, the separator pushed away to allow him to cuddle into her, the way her nails are scratching at his scalp making him want her more.

“Harry, yes, you can,” Amelie says, knowing that Harry is trying to wear her down with the dramatic nature of the conversation. Her thighs are warm thinking about the adrenaline that would course through her veins by having sex where they very well shouldn’t be, but with the environment being heavily closed away from interaction, maybe this was just the right time to do so.

Amelie wouldn’t admit that to Harry, though. No. Because that means he won.

“Haven’t touched you in like, three days.”

“Because we had to get all of our things together, see our godchildren, and see my family. Not because I didn’t want to.”

“Alright, well, now we have eleven hours.”

Amelie sighs, carding her fingers through her hair and gently pulling out the tie in her curls and letting the baby pink fall over her shoulders. Through her peripheral vision, she can see Harry roll his eyes, trying to look away as she tugs on the sleeves on the sweatshirt, gently pulling the material away and leaving his eyes to bask over the loose-fitting shirt from his closet and her chest free from any restrictions.

“For fuck’s sake, Amelie,” Harry groans, sitting up and beginning to pull his mask away from his mouth, all the passengers boarded and the flight attendants beginning to go through the safety measures as he’s heard a million times before. “Did you not wear a bra, either?”

“Like you said, eleven hours,” she shrugs, a smirk playing at her lips as she set the sweatshirt over her thighs, dragging the blanket over her body, locking his hand between her legs.

“Know just how to get what you want, huh?”

“Maybe,” she hums, spreading her thighs the slightly amount to give him the ability to roam further across her skin. “Have had quite a few years of practice.”

Harry smirks, taking Amelie by surprise and sliding his hand beneath the waistband of her leggings, her thighs unable to be held together as his fingers drag slowly and teasingly across her mound. “About, five years, huh, baby?” Amelie gulps. “Don’t go quiet on me, now. Have had the wittiest comebacks for an hour and now you’re quiet?”

“Harry,” she says through a clenched jaw, trying her swallow back a moan as his fingers delicately trace along her core, arousal collecting on his fingertips as his finger draws over her clit lightly, barely touching her skin. “Either you do it or you don’t.”

“Do you want me to?” Harry smirks, lips ghosting across the shell of her ear and making her sink further into her seat, her thumb between her teeth as she nods shamelessly. “Amelie Fay, tell me what you want or I’m going to take my hand back.”

Harry rarely uses Amelie’s whole name. And by rarely, Amelie means that Harry only uses her whole name – first and middle – when they’re arguing and she won’t listen (which is most of the time) or they’re about to do something filthy and she won’t give verbal consent (which is most of the time they’re taking to exhibitionism). But whenever Harry uses it, fuck, it’s another type of sexy. His accent draws out every syllable, especially when he’s trying to use an accent that her mother has or it’s deeply his own.

Amelie sucks in a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing and not melt into the chair with the barely-there movements of his fingertips, his middle finger teasing her warmth by dipping in to collect more arousal over her clit. “Okay, okay.”

“Okay, what.”

“Need you to use your fingers,” she sighs, his fingers beginning to ease into her warmth and brush against the velvet that squeezes him in. “Fuck.”

“Be quiet,” Harry says strictly, his cheek laying on her shoulder and his lips touching the cut of her jaw. “Have barely touched you and you’re already squeezing me, doll. Maybe I should’ve tried a bit harder to get you into bed, hm? Have I been neglecting you? Horrible husband, you have.”

Harry and Amelie never could describe their sex life as neglected – certainly not that – but it definitely was not what it was when they first got married at the beginning of March. Harry and Amelie tiptoed around the subject because there were days when there was too much frustration to even think about getting naked and sharing their thoughts with the other person. That definitely isn’t what want they wanted, what they promised each other. And so, here they were, three months into the isolation and just being able to go home, and there was a desperation lingering between them that neither really knew was there. Getting comfortable was something they didn’t want, and that’s exactly what they did.

His fingers work at a speed that could only be described as desperate and longing. His thumb pressed against her clit with patterns that have her hips longing to writhe beneath him, his middle and third finger curling inside of her with every thrust, taking a second to ghost across the spot that would have her screaming inside their bedroom.

“Baby, please,” Amelie whimpers, tucking her face into his hair and breathing out through parted lips, squeezing her eyes shut as the flight attendant walks through the aisle, completely unsuspecting of what is happening beneath the linen. “Harry.”

“All over me, honey. Gi’ me all of it.”

Amelie tugs on Harry’s curls, earning a smirk and a grateful kiss, swallowing her moans as the orgasm ripples through her body. Her hands shaking as she grasps onto the blanket and her hot breaths hitting his neck. His hand is coated with her orgasm, his mouth watering at the thought of her taste on his tongue.

If Harry couldn’t go down on her, right now, this is the next best option.

“Get out the fruit and water from your bag.”

“Huh?” Amelie whispers, her eyes barely opening to try and read Harry’s expression. “For what?”

“For you to drink,” Harry smiles, kissing her hairline sweetly. “And so, I can stick my fingers in m’mouth and it won’t look like I just fucked you under the blanket.”

“Christ, Harry,” she mutters, rolling her eyes as he chuckles under his breath. “Do you realise you still have your fingers in me?”

“And?”

“Can’t lean over and grab everything with you puncturing my cervix.”

“Don’t flatter me that much, baby,” Harry quips, nodding towards the bag laying at her feet and gently tapping his thumb against her clit once more. “Already have a big head.”

“Hate you,” Amelie swallows, trying to control her breathing as she leans forward and reaches for her bag, Harry’s fingers wiggling inside her warmth. He is just as needy as she is, at the moment, except, Amelie would rather wait until they are home and can’t be caught. “Here.”

“But, baby, I know you don’t.” He chastely kisses her cheek, gently taking his fingers from her warmth and slowly removing his hand from her pants, pouting his lips, “My hand is cold, now.”

“Unfortunate,” she shrugs, taking a long sip from her water as his tongue licks along his palm, his two fingers suckled between his lips and tasting all that he’s missed in nearly four days. He isn’t used to going that long. Maybe, he’s a bit spoiled in that regard. Harry and Amelie are running on the same sex drive at all times. Call it inspirational in some respects. Amelie has found it quite useful in the exhibitions recently. Harry finds that flattering.

“Quit being a brat,” Harry teases, squeezing her knee over the blanket and standing on his feet, nodding towards the bathroom a few feet away. “Have to wash my hands. Got a bit messy.”

Amelie shakes her head, wiggling around in her seat and shrugging her sweatshirt over her torso, settling under the blanket and laying over the chair, waiting for Harry to get back and cuddle into. Harry smiles at the sight, wiping his hands over his sweatpants and manoeuvring around her legs and settling into his seat. His arms open wide, graciously accepting Amelie as she climbs over into his seat and lays in the reclined bed with him, tucking her face into his neck. “Hi.”

“Hi, Cherry.”

“Can’t wait to go home,” she whispers, yawning as his fingertips drag through her hair. “Miss home.”

“Know you do,” he says, kissing her temple and bringing the blanket tighter over her body. “Me too.”

“Need a really good night of sex, too. Or day. I’m not picky.”

Harry snorts, “Have our other nights not been satisfactory to you?”

“Always the best with you. Don’t worry,” Amelie smirks, kissing his jaw and breathing in his cologne. “Different when we’re home, though. Don’t care about anything or anyone. Can just do it wherever, whenever. Don’t have to worry about my parents or sister, or our friends coming and knocking on our door.”

“Love your sister,” Harry says, his voice hanging on the last word, “but she is the biggest cock block in the entire world.”

Amelie laughs so loudly into Harry’s chest that the flight attendant peers over his novel. “God, you’re right.”

“Need to just be alone with m’missus for a while.”

Her voice is quiet, once again, barely above a whisper as she begins to fall asleep nuzzled into his warmth. “Alright.”

His eyebrows furrow together in confusion. “No argument? No rebuttal?”

“Not today.”

Harry laughs breathily, shaking his head and kissing her hair, his hands dragging along her spine as she drifts asleep. He stays awake until nearly eleven, waking her to eat and watching a film on his phone until they’ve fallen back asleep together, only waking to the sound telling them to buckle their seatbelts and settle into landing. Harry can see the relief on Amelie’s face, the smile that sits permanently on her lips as the pilot welcomes them to England and Heathrow Airport.

Amelie nearly forgets their luggage when Harry pulls into the garage, rushing inside to see Tigger and breathe in the scent that is permanently a mark of their London home. He tugs in their bags, setting the mickey mouse printed luggage in the foyer and wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her neck sweetly and nosing her hair away from her skin.

“Fuck, ’m happy to be home.”

“Know you are,” Harry smiles, gently biting her neck and licking over the red mark lingering on her skin. His hands squeeze her thighs, lifting her onto his hips and wrapping his arms under her ass, his eyes rolling as their cat begins to rub along his legs. “Not the time, Tigger.”

“He missed you.”

“Flattered, but not really the time. Quite missed shagging m’wife, so that’s the priority at the minute.”

“That sounds really sexy coming from your mouth,” Amelie hums, dragging her thumb over his plump lips.

“Hm?” Harry asks, carefully making his way up the stairs and shoving their bedroom door open, careful to make sure that their cat would not be in the way when the door closed behind him. He became way too good at carrying her up the stairs when they moved in two years ago.

“My wife.”

Harry snickers, walking straight into the bathroom and turning on the light with his elbow, setting Amelie on the counter and harshly pressing his lips to hers. “’s what you are, m’wife.”

“Can’t wait to have this on me,” Amelie smirks against his cheeks, her fingertips dragging along his beard as Harry tugs their sweatshirts and shirt off their bodies. “First place you’re going to have sex with me in our house is the shower.”

“Know you better than that to think you’ll let me on the clean sheets after we were just on a plane for twelve hours.”

Amelie giggles, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and tugging him into her, his arms circling her waist and his tongue tasting her lips, her tongue, her. “Know me well.”

“Hope so after five bloody years.”

“Go turn the water on.”

Harry nods eagerly, walking away and turning the water in the shower, the waterfall faucet sprinkling water over him as he tugs on his sweatpants tie. His head rolls back as two hands skirt along his naked torso, dancing dangerously close to where he wants them most, his cock already painfully hard between his thighs.

“Don’t tease me, now.”

“Am I not allowed to have a taste, either? ‘s been four days, remember?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry moans, squeezing his eyes shut as Amelie’s hands bring his sweatpants over his ass and thighs, her gently hand tugging teasingly over his shaft. “Get in the bloody shower, woman.”

Amelie laughs, taking Harry’s hand and stepping inside the shower, the steam already beginning to fog over the glass doors. His back hits the tile wall, a gasp leaving his lips as she sinks to the ground, her knees printed with the tile, her tongue dragging over the arousal wetting his tip. He moans, the sound spurring her on, his hand running through her hair as she wraps her fingers around his base and begins sucking on his cock, all of him surrounded by her tongue and her wet lips and her warmth.

His stomach tightens, nearly spilling his entire orgasm down her throat. His whimpers as she pulls away makes her laugh, his eyes barely open before he’s helping her stand and grabbing her thigh to wrap around his waist, his cock sliding deep inside her warmth without warning. Her forehead falls to his collarbone, the sensation overwhelming and deeply missed. Her nails dig into his shoulders, their kisses messy and sloppy as his thrust reaches every inch into her core, his thumb drawing shapes around her clit the way he knows she loves.

“Missed this so much,” Amelie moans, her fingers tugging at his curls and bringing his mouth to hers. “Can’t go that long again.”

“Fucking swear on m’life,” Harry grunts, the way his cock is driving into her making her lift onto her toes. “Gi’ me your leg.”

“Do you want to fall over?”

“Trust me.”

Amelie wraps her legs around Harry’s waist, sighing when her back hits the cold tile that is out of the water’s reach, a gasp leaving her lips as his shaft sits deeper inside her warmth.

Harry is grunting mercilessly into her neck, Amelie’s moans echoing inside the bathroom, and to anyone that doesn’t know them, they might have thought that they’d not seen each other for a month, maybe two, with how intense their orgasms spill onto each other. Her thighs shake around his waist, their orgasms dripping out of her and onto his legs as he holds her, making sure that she wouldn’t fall.

And their shower isn’t devoid of more touching and kissing, in fact, the water goes cold before they’re fully finished washing up and rinsing the shampoo and conditioner from their hair.

Harry watches Amelie change intensely, soaking in the way she’s never changed the way she looks in their time together – except for the new three tattoos – the way she’s never felt the need to. Harry adores every curve and tattoo and mark and dimple, especially when she’s naked and he’s touching her skin.

“Can you look away for maybe two seconds?”

“No,” Harry deadpans, laying his hands behind him on the bed, the towel still loosely covering his waist.

“Are you going to eat lunch with me?” Amelie wonders, tugging one of Harry’s old shirts on and sliding briefs onto her hips – he never wears them anyways.

“Think I need to go for a run, and then I’ll shower and come back and eat.”

“You want to go for a run? After a twelve-hour flight?”

“Need to otherwise you and me will be in that bed for the next twelve hours,” Harry says surely, taking a deep breath and nodding his already semi-hard cock between his thighs.

“For fuck’s sake,” Amelie breathes, shaking her head and walking to him on the bed. Her lips press against his chastely, once, then twice, smiling when he tugs her onto his chest, and they fall against the mattress.

“Love you.”

“Love you more. Go for your run. Think I can take, like, six hours in bed, with breaks, alright? I’m not a machine.”

“Ooh, a compromise.”

“Married men get three compromises a year, this is one.”

“Deal.”

#harry x reader #harry styles imagines #harry smut #harry styles fic #loving you's the antidote series #harry #harry x you #harry styles #1d harry #1d harry styles #harry 1d #harry styles 1d #harry x #harry x y/n #1d fan fic #1d fanfiction #1d fan fiction #1d fic #1d ff #harry fic #harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry angst #harry au #fic #romance #angst #harry solo #harry styles au #harry styles ff

[jamespotterthefirst]

I’m actually so fucking impressed by the OH3 theories, how deeply some people observe each character’s lines, taking their time to write said observation, and so forth. Even if it’s absurd at times, I’m all giggly reading it.

But we’re past that point where we expect the writers to do better and that’s just heartbreaking!! Like I REALLY want this or that theory/speculation to work out in the original storyline but then we were fed with some bland, flavorless, rushed piece of crap. And I can see that you’re done too! -because girl, same. 🤡

I mean I swear to God if it’s not because of my eternal love for OH1 Ethan Ramsey and not that colossal disaster Rethan Amsey (also to all the 💎 I’ve spent lol), I would’ve just quit Choices once and for all. Not to be dramatic but long-time Choices players would say the same.

THANK YOU tho. I love your content, your Lilac and also loving many many other fanfic writers out there. Y’all…y’all are justice. Me like. Queens. 👑 💕

Oof yes! Say it louder 🔊 I'm equally impressed by the brilliance in this Fandom when these theories come up. Like you said, Pb's quality for the past two years, especially with book 3, has been horrid. They'd never have that much foresight in writing a story to make the pieces fit like we theorized.

And like you, I'm done with book 3. Something mind blowing has to happen for me to come back. I am also done with the app except for rereading old books.

I'm so happy you like my Lilac and my fics. I may be done with OPH 3 as it stands right now, but I am not done with my fanon version of Ethan x MC 💕

Thank you so much 🥰

#I need a Chapters (redacted) #That would bring me back to life

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 275: YAAAAY but Also AHHHHH

Previously on BnHA: Endeavor was all “I’M FIGHTING TOMURA AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME” and set everything on fire. Unlike SOME people, however, it turns out fire is NOT Tomura’s weakness, so he basically just shrugged it off. But before things could progress any further, AFO was all “psst, go get One for All” and Tomura was all “? One for All?” and Endeavor was all “?? One for All?” and Deku and Kacchan, who were listening in on their earpieces, were all “!!!” Having thus realized that Tomura was targeting him, Deku sped off to lead him somewhere away from the civilians... accompanied by his good friend Bakugou “274 chapters of character development have all been leading up to this” Katsuki. Because like hell are you going to have an EPIC BATTLE with the FINAL VILLAIN without him, you damn nerd. Who’s he going to heroically sacrifice himself for if you’re not there?? Hahh!?

Today on BnHA: Deku and Kacchan fly off to battle Tomura after confusing Endeavor into giving them his location (which wasn’t very hard lmao). En route, Deku finally thinks to ask Kacchan why he’s tagging along, and Kacchan is all “DON’T GET ME WRONG, IT’S JUST BECAUSE I WANT REVENGE ON TOMURA, AND DEFINITELY NOT BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOU AT ALL, HOW DARE YOU, WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT”, which is super convincing and didn’t make me roll my eyes at all. Anyways so then Tomura shows up and is all “EYO TIME TO KILL YOU NOW” and Deku and Kacchan are all “OH SFFKDFK”, but fortunately Gran shows up to save them in the nick of time, because BnHA is literally the only shounen manga in which grown-ups will see kids trying to lead a battle and be like “lol wtf” and actually try to stop that shit instead of being all “what are your orders, children.” The chapter then ends with the heroes doing EXACTLY WHAT THEY SHOULD BE DOING??Namely, having the guy who can TURN OFF QUIRKS battle the guy with the ultimate death quirk! I’m so proud. But also I swear to god, if Tomura so much as breathes suspiciously in his direction...!! What the fuck. HORIKOSHI.

y’all what in the fresh hell is this bs

not yet there isn’t son but if you keep trolling like this I can give your nervous system something to actually be nervous about

anyway. this was his comment from last week’s issue of Jump, and I have absolutely no idea what it’s referring to, is the fun part! did he cry because of something he was working on in a chapter that’s coming up? or is he just tired from a combination of stressful mangaka schedule + 2020 in general?? or hell, for all I know he just recently watched Titanic or some shit

(ETA: KILLING AIZAWA SHOUTA WOULDN’T MAKE SOMEONE CRY OUT OF JOY, THOUGH. RIGHT?!)

anyways I guess it’s time to read and see if I feel like sadly happily crying for two hours afterward

-- oh shit I just realized there are two scanlations out for this?? one from readjump.com, and one from readheroacademia.com. lol now what. uhhh

lulzes. I guess I’ll go with RHA for now and keep checking back to RJ after each page and I’ll go with whichever translation I liked better

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, OUR MILLENNIAL VILLAIN

or would he actually be gen z. he was already in his twenties when this manga started like six years ago, so I’m going with millennial. but on the cusp though I guess. anyway, he plays video games though is the point

and I see he’s already decided to contradict me and my inane speculations not two panels in! I GUESS I AM JUST A FOOL. that’s really interesting though. I wonder if it’s just Monoma’s quirk that doesn’t take the accumulated “save data” from the people he copies from, then? guh. how many of my AFO/OFA theory notes do I have to scrap now

and there’s a little quirk blurb about Search, which is fairly useless given that we already know how it works (actually in even greater detail than shown here), but at least it comes with a cute little picture of Ragdoll in her hero costume, to make us all sad and stuff

so anyways Tomura who are you looking at?? this was a topic of some contention last week! also why were you only seeing nine people then. Ragdoll had seen everyone in 1-A along with Aizawa and her fellow Pussycats at a minimum, so is this confirmation that Tora and Mandalay and Pixie-Bob are all really dead then, because I CAN AND WILL HUNT DOWN A MAN AND MAKE HIM CRY FOR A GOOD DEAL LONGER THAN TWO HOURS IF THAT’S REALLY THE CASE. was Kouta not traumatized enough already?? LET’S JUST ORPHAN HIM AGAIN WHY NOT THAT’S A GOOD PLAN

(ETA: I really hate that we are still up in the air regarding this? and I mean, sure, why not, we only had like a dozen lady heroes to begin with, so why not just kill off two more of them, offscreen, in one fell swoop??)

WHAT IS A SHAME. TOMURA. DAMN IT

(ETA: ??)

-- well hello there

OR MAYBE I WAS NOT A FOOL AT ALL?? lol guys. please do not tell me my hobo husband is flying his vengeful ass over to where Tomura all heedless of the danger because I really do not need that just yet. CAN MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS PLEASE FUCKING TAKE TURNS BEING IN TERRIBLE DANGER INSTEAD OF ALL AT ONCE

sob we’re cutting back to Endeavor and Deku and Kacchan. ACTUALLY THAT’S GOOD THOUGH why am I complaining. I’m just gonna have to get used to the fact that no one is going to truly be safe for the next god knows however many chapters, and make my peace with that. hahaha. yeah right

lmao Deku. “HEY WHAT’S UP, ME AND MY FELLOW CHILD HERE ARE GONNA LURE SHIGARAKI TOWARDS US, BUT WE’LL EXPLAIN OUR REASONS FOR THAT LATER. IF YOU SEE HIM MAKING ANY SUDDEN MOVEMENTS PLEASE INFORM US SO AS TO AID US IN THIS PLAN.” Endeavor if you just go along with this I will lose so much respect for you lmao

lol he is trying to argue a bit but then he’s suddenly cutting off. so in hindsight I don’t know why I said “lol”, really. I’M JUST NERVOUS OKAY

btw in the other translation Deku straight up asks if Endeavor can redirect Tomura towards them. “sure no problem bucko, let me just tell the walking apocalypse exactly where he can find you, my two sixteen-year-old interns whose safety I am responsible for. I was just thinking to myself that I hadn’t had my fill of crazy ill-thought-out plans with a high risk of death today”

holy --

okay I have not the SLIGHTEST clue what’s going on here, even after analyzing both scans, except that someone, probably Tomura, either just went CRONCH or just GOT cronched just now lmao. let us read on to find out who was cronched and who did the cronching

the rest of this page is not really much more helpful

but I am becoming increasingly suspicious that those were in fact Tomura’s new, improved and ridiculously thicc legs doing the cronching as he did a Marvel Superhero Landing from the most RIDICULOUS ANGLE POSSIBLE

LMAO NOW WHAT

so he just cronched onto the ground and fooshed Endeavor and then went flying off again huh

LMAO AT EVERYTHINNNNNG

THANK YOU ENJI. HE’LL LURE HIM AWAY. lols WHY THE FUCK DID YOU TELL THEM WHICH WAY HE WAS HEADED YOU BOOB

he really just fucking hung up on him afterwards too. just, “got it thanks amigo just leave everything to me, [CLICK]”

OH MY GOD

BECAUSE WE CAN’T HAVE ANYONE ELSE CONVENIENTLY INTERFERING WHEN YOU HAVE YOUR LITTLE THROWDOWN OF DESTINY HUH. THAT WOULD JUST BE TERRIBLE

-- oh shit

that’s just. a SLIGHT change in meaning, there. silly me. thinking “get rid of them” meant “get rid of their communications as opposed to FUCKING KILLING THE ONE YOU’RE NOT ACTUALLY AFTER. hmm. well that’s not good

(ETA: never have I been so happy that a translation was wrong lmao.)

so now Endeavor’s shouting at everyone else that Tomura is heading southwest and that he has “SUPER REGENARTION” (sic) and is no longer THE SAME THUG HE WAS BEFORE and yeah RHA you have officially won me over, flaws and all. listen up boyos. this ain’t your granddaddy’s Shigaraki Tomura. this one regenars

also “that damn kid...” like why the hell did my son have to go and befriend two protagonists. why is this my life now

AHAHAHAHA

“MIDORIYA IS IN DANGER...!!” STORY OF THIS MANGA. AHAHA. KACCHAN HE’S COMING. HE’S COMING, KACCHAN. for you two. someone please help me I am both terrified and thrilled beyond all recognition and my body doesn’t know how to handle the conflicting emotions. honestly crying for two hours is starting to sound more and more appealing

oh my god I forgot they didn’t know, though

fff. Kacchan especially didn’t know, because unlike Deku he doesn’t have random bits of other people’s souls going “heyyyyyyy... transcendent being at 12 o’clock.” what has this kid so bravely and stupidly gone and gotten himself into

look at them go

damn Deku can you really not float yet?? that’s going to be really inconvenient if that’s the case

(ETA: my boy really would have just straight up died. he would have died so hard.)

OH MY GOD

NOW YOU WANT TO ASK HIM LMAOOOO. well it’s because of all the character development!! if you must know

THAT’S NOT AN ANSWER BLASTY MCANGERTY

you’re not as smooth as you think you are, you know. we all know why you actually followed him. but fine, be that way

okay so now he’s giving a real-er answer though

“understand the situation”, the situation being that your best friend and his secret-trump-card-in-the-battle-against-evil quirk were being targeted by the guy who just obliterated this entire city. got it. you put it quite succinctly

and Deku is all

and Kacchan is all

love how he throws that protagonist crack in there too. because we all know that Deku absolutely is the protagonist lol, and so if that part’s obviously not true, we can make some inferences about the rest of what he’s saying too now can’t we

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh snap

YOU SURE DO!! and he does with you too!! :) it’s gonna be one big happy reunion! :) :) :) oh gosh golly

OH NO KATSUKI WHAT ARE YOU DOING

what are you doing to me, I should clarify. please be considerate of my feelings. you can’t just DUMP sudden Kacchan Kamino Angst on me without any warning, you have to let me know in advance so that I can buy some thank you cards

THERE’S MOREEEEE???

YOU REMEMBER TOO, DON’T YOU DEKU. HE WAS ALL CRYING AND STUFF. IT WAS A LOT. IT’S POSSIBLE THAT I HAVE NEVER PERSONALLY GOTTEN OVER IT

AND IT LOOKS LIKE HE NEVER QUITE GOT OVER IT EITHER

:’)

by the way in the other translation he says “I’ll make up for what I did that day.” so yeah. BOOM. right to the heart. shot of me collapsing to the ground in slow motion

but it’s interesting though that he still can’t admit to having selfless motives yet! even after everything he’s been through and all his character growth! he’s still all GET RID OF THE REFERENCES TO ME CARING ABOUT YOU, WE CAN’T LET PEOPLE KNOW WE HAVE FEELINGS

but even his Kamino feels are notably first and foremost about him feeling responsible for failing All Might. so yeah, buddy. where does that leave you? even your feeble excuses are still rooted in selflessness, JUST GIVE IN AND ADMIT YOU’VE BEEN SECRETLY GIVING A SHIT BEHIND EVERYONE’S BACK. and honestly he might be better off at this point if he didn’t! BUT HE DOES. and that’s that

anyways Deku I sure hope you and your big hero brain can see right through this nonsense

god. you’re both in so much danger though, do you even have any idea?! of course you fucking don’t. god

HELLO BAKUGOU NARRATION!?!

well that’s one hell of a rare sight!! all fresh and chock full of shrewd observations about his best rival’s current skillset. ah what a time we’re living in

ooooh

gonna hold off commentary until I read the next part of this lol

OOOOOH

goddamn. Horikoshi really went off this week. just a whole chapter’s worth of Stuff Makeste Really Likes, goddamn is it my birthday or what

so do you guys think he’ll be able to keep pace all the way up to 100%? I can see this part being interpreted in two totally different ways if I’m being honest. on the one hand we have the more pessimistic (some would say realistic) view that Bakugou is desperately trying to convince himself that he’s still on the same level as the rival he so desperately wants to surpass, but with the sinking feeling that he’s actually not going to be able to keep up for much longer. and then on the other side of the coin we have the more glass-half-full perspective that he actually is capable of keeping up with him right to the bitter end. that even as Deku grows stronger, he’ll continue to push himself and use that as motivation to keep getting stronger too. that Deku isn’t out of reach; that his goal isn’t out of reach

and I’m not completely sure which way this is leaning myself! I personally would like to lean more towards the second interpretation, because y’all know I love me some rivals. and also because imo one of the most commendable things about Bakugou’s development has been how he hasn’t once been envious of Deku’s strength or of his position as All Might’s chosen heir since he learned about OFA. he hasn’t once shown any kind of resentment towards him for it, or doubted whether or not he deserves it. and as minor a detail as that may seem to some people, I cherish it. and I don’t want that to change! but I guess we shall see

so now we’re getting the clearest shot we’ve had yet of the new AFO holes in Tomura’s palms as he gets ready to combine some more quirks. also! more information about the quirks he has and is using! fucking thank you, where was this last week

so “radio waves” is clearly going to be used here to disrupt the heroes’ communication, which is a shame for them, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved given the alternative! the RJ translation is clearly just a hot mess lol. but I still adore that one “I’ll make up for what I did” line though

WOW

THE DISRESPECT. LOL DID YOU JUST FUCKING KILL HIS ASS

(ETA: I just realized he’s nowhere to be found after this, though, so... did he?? or is he now lying somewhere now all wounded and waiting to be found by one, or, dare I say, two of his sons? ...)

LKDFJLSDKGHOSIDGHOISDflkwejfdfsdklggdflgnfdlgndakgalkgldfdfkwlfwiowelKLDSGKSL:DKGJL:DKFM?G?SGSDLKG?SDFSDF??LKJ@L!

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT

even if you ask him nicely??! somehow I just can’t help feeling that he probably shouldn’t oblige you, though!?!?!

anyways. THAT AIN’T SAFE. and what the hell is happening in that bottom left corner ahhhhhh

AHHHHHHH

GRAN DM ME YOUR ADDRESS I WANT TO SEND YOU SOME FLOWERS AND A BASKET OF FRUIT AND CRACKERS AND SOME LITTLE CHEESES AND SAUSAGES

jesus christ it completely slipped my mind that there was one other person currently in the vicinity who knows about OFA. my good sir, maybe you would like to introduce these two dunderfucks to the concept of a “plan.” and maybe you can also find the single shared braincell they apparently dropped and lost somewhere back there in all the city rubble

oh fuck me

(ETA: does Kacchan look so rattled here because he is being lectured, or because he just saw a vision of his own death and is now having it explained to him just how close he came to being decomposed. you decide! I’ll just sit here and bask in the angst.)

fuck. main character gods were really working overtime here. anyways so how are you all doing this fine Friday afternoon. me, I’m just sitting here wrangling with the knowledge that Tomura’s quirk is even deadlier than I realized, and that my two little boys came within inches of dying horrible deaths just now. but anyways it’s not as humid today as it was yesterday so that’s really nice

anyways so now Gran is continuing to lecture the mayor of Dumb Ideas Town here, along with his friend the deputy mayor who still thinks he outranks the actual mayor

SHH NOW AND LISTEN TO YOUR GRANDPA

-- ohhhh shit son are they mounting a counterattack?? don’t tell me!!

also is Gran seriously faster than Tomura. that makes no fucking sense, and yet these two are only alive now because of it so I’M SURE NOT GONNA QUESTION IT

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

AND IS AIZAWA ON HER BACK THOUGH???

AHAHHAHAHAHAHA

AH, BUT IT AIN’T GONNA WORK THOUGH, IS IT!!! AHAHAHA YESSSSSS

excellent question sir. the short answer is “they’re idiots”, and the long answer is just a longer version of “they’re idiots” but with some more complicated BakuDeku feels mixed in. I’ll tell you all about it if you just promise me that you’ll actually live through this, all right?

“is he after the two of them?” listen boy if you don’t finally put two and two together after this I’m gonna be fucking beside myself lol. (though honestly, Deku and Kacchan have been targeted by the League so many other times already that he might just simply accept “yeah they’re after them again” without any further explanation)

my dear gentlefolk would you fucking look at how the lord has blessed us on this day

Aizawa Fucking Shouta and the motherfucking dramatic intro to end all dramatic intros. finally this man gets his moment

someone please teach me how to cast a force field. teach me how to reach into the manga and slap this man and tell him to stop talking about how everyone’s noble sacrifices to protect him and his eraser quirk have led him to this day and to this one encounter. my guy. my fucking dude. THERE HAD BETTER BE SUBSEQUENT ENCOUNTERS AFTER THIS

NOOOOOOOOOOOO

ISN’T HE THOUGH??? Tomura I love you sweetie but you better BACK THE FUCK. OFF

well FINE THEN! BE THAT WAY. it’s not like my life revolves around you and your stupid manga anyway!! it’s not like I’m obsessed with it or anything!! I have other hobbies!! well I actually do have other hobbies, so that doesn’t really work as sarcasm, so let’s see though. maybe something more like, “this isn’t by far my favorite out of all my hobbies!!” I don’t spend 80-90% of my free time on any given day either actively or passively daydreaming about this series and writing essays in my head and reading fanfic and scrolling through art on tumblr!! etc.!! whatever!! enjoy your break!! have fun living your life!!

please don’t kill Aizawa

#bnha 275 #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #shigaraki tomura #aizawa shouta #endeavor #gran torino #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #well then #now that I have 'fixed' this post and am playing by tumblr's rules #I wonder if it's too late to get it unhidden from the tag search :/

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.7

Of Monsters and Men

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)      x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 2490

Summary: ‘Nat’ and the boys are still on the road and to kill the time more than anything, they talk monsters and most importantly, witches. 

You know what they say: speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Warnings: mentions of violence, monsters, supernatural elements, mentions of amnesia and interesting dreams and swearing (always)

Story masterlist

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

“Hold onto me tight. Can’t have you falling off, doll…”

“You’re such a troublemaker-“

“I want to see you come undone first. Can I, doll?”

“Do I look unwilling, doll? I’m actually pretty eager to find out how long do you need to recover…”

“Eyes on me, darling-”

You jolted awake with a gasp for air, your eyes snapping open into sharp midday sun. It took you a second to realize where you were, what the low purr under your body meant, music on low volume and a male voice softly humming along.

You blinked, meeting Sam’s gaze as he turned his head to face you.

“Hey. You alright?” he asked, concern furrowing his features.

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the blood rushing to your cheeks at the memory of the dream. They were bits and pieces, sweet and hot, yet leaving dull ache in your chest in their wake. You were absolutely sure this was your consciousness recalling moments with your soulmate, but you were unable to make anything useful of them. It was like chasing ghosts – eh, actually, did ghosts exist? What was it like, chasing them? Never mind-

You were supposed to be a ghost, because apparently you had died.

Alright. Shake it. Snap out of those messy thoughts.

The more awake your body got, the more you realized your chest wasn’t the only thing that was tense and it wasn’t only your neck that nearly cramped.

“Yeah,” you muttered finally, while Sam’s eyes managed to get really worried, still on you. “Just… call of nature.”

In more than one ways. Your bladder might actually burst soon, but you couldn’t deny your arousal either. Gee. Why did it have to be that kind of dream you had? Why couldn’t you see your soulmate’s face clearly instead? Nope scratch that, his ID would be better, complete with his freaking address.

“Hold on for about half an hour, Nat. I’d like to stretch my legs anyway and Garth should be waiting for us.”

You smiled at Dean despite him being unable to see it, his eyes focused on the road. It was sweet of him. You might as well be sweet back.

“Thanks, Dean. And you can turn the volume up, if it was low just because of me,” you hummed, holding back a chuckle when his hand immediately moved to the radio.

“Thanks, Nat. Wanna tell us what that dream of yours was about? You seem a bit shaky,” he nudged, surprisingly gentle. You would expect such approach from Sam, but he only glanced at you, apparently wanting to know as well.

You sighed, wondering how to put it without sounding like a horny teenager.

“It’s… I think they’re like memories? But they don’t make any sense,” you said in the end, casting your glance down, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, fingers interlacing and disjointing again. “It’s my soulmate, I know as much. Or, you know, I’m pretty sure. It’s nothing useful though.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam soothed, his voice genuinely regretful. You just shook your head, sending a sad smile his way.

“The only pattern is a… a pet-name, I guess.” Well, until now, it was just one. ‘Darling’ was new. “He keeps calling me ‘doll’.”

You didn’t know why you told them, you weren’t planning on it. Except they were so genuinely nice to you it hurt and you felt like honesty was the least you could give in return. Now, you could practically touch their surprise.

It was Dean who commented on it, but not in a malicious way, which you were eternally grateful for.  

“Doll, huh? Maybe he’s a mafioso. Sounds like something from an old movie. Heh, maybe you time-travelled too!” he speculated out loud and you only gulped, not as amused as you should be. Was that a thing? Time-travel?

“God, I hope not,” Sam whined, effectively startling you. So it was possible?

“Nah, I bet it’s just him being a gentleman, ya know, the old-fashioned kind of guy. After all, how could he not, having such a… swell dame for a soulmate?”

Both you and Sam eyes Dean with wary and confusion.

“Since when you’re an expert on war era slang?” Sam demanded, amused surprise lacing his voice.

“Simpler times, Sam. Simpler times. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Sam just chuckled, shaking his head. You laughed as well despite not quite understanding what it meant. You simply enjoyed the banter and teasing that was strengthening their brotherly love; you already caught up that much, that they loved each other greatly. How could they not? They were both absolutely amazing despite their differences.

People might find it strange for them to be so close at their age – not that you knew theirs precisely, or yours for that matter – but you thought it was endearing. If they killed monsters for living, their lives couldn’t be normal and conventional, could they? It spiked your interest once more.

“Alright. What can you tell me about what you do and how you get your money?”

“Not sure you wanna hear that, d-- now I have the nickname stuck in my head, dammit. It’s not a pretty chat, Nat. You sure?”

You nodded, but agreed out loud for the god measure. After all, Dean was still driving.

“Your choice. We hunt monsters. But let me tell you, humans are actually the worst… well, humans and witches…”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Dean and Sam hadn’t even told half about the monsters that lurked in the shadows and you already felt overwhelmed, grateful when you reached Bedford and the older brother called his ID maker.

Garth was a nice guy, if a little overexcited and goofy.

He called you a madam, gave Sam a newest book by George R. R. Martin (who?), which seemed to excite the hunter greatly and Dean received a piece of apple pie. You couldn’t remember your life, but if you had, you were sure it still would have been Dean’s smile that was the brightest you had ever seen. Note to yourself; when repaying Sam and Dean, a pie and a book were necessities.

Your trio didn’t stop to chat with the man for long though – you needed to be on your way. Garth was apparently in the business of hunting, because he made a face way too similar to Sam’s at a mention of witches. You weren’t sure if you looked forward hearing about those; you guessed they weren’t wearing pointy hats and befriending cats.

The remaining hours to your destination flied; the brothers continued to educate you in monster food chain (people were usually the food, which you did not enjoy learning), briefing you on existence of things you could barely imagine. Also, they weren’t only friends with an angel, apparently – they were also on rather good terms with king of Hell.

“King of Hell?” you parroted, bewildered. What the h— heaven?!

“Yeah. Dean used to be bestie with him, too,” Sam quipped, half delighted at his brother’s annoyed face when sharing this fact, half bitter for pretty obvious reasons.

“Dude.”

“You keep the weirdest company,” you stated, your head buzzing with all the info you got. You grimaced when you realized that the company included you.

“We know,” Sam sighed, turning his tablet on. “But it’s not all bad. I mean, Garth, the guy you just met… he’s a werewolf and-“

“He’s a WEREWOLF?!” you yelped, causing the brothers jump in their seats and Dean jerk the steering wheel aside, throwing you all of balance.

“Christ, woman! Keep the volume low!” the driver spitted out as he returned to the correct lane, ignoring the honks of other cars. “I know, I know, shut up, I’m not drunk…”

“Sorry,” you blurted out on autopilot, your mind pre-occupied with the fact that the sweet dorky guy you had just met was a fucking werewolf.

It was Sam’s turn to apologize or he thought so. “My bad. I shouldn’t have just dropped that on you.”

“But he was so nice!”

“If you say so,” Dean assented reluctantly, voice dripping with doubt. You weren’t trying to figure out why he questioned such an obvious thing. It wasn’t your place. Not to mention you were still too astonished by the announcement.

Sam cleared his throat. “Anyway. We have two victims so far. Both are young women, Alicia Peters, 16 years old and Helen Sanders, 16 as well. They were apparently classmates, rather good students, but not friends. One of them was found three days ago, the other yesterday. They both sneaked away in secret, some other classmates claimed to them being… eh, giggly. They thought they had new boyfriends,” Sam summed up, while Dean nodded every now and then. “Why do you think witches? Could be dragons… which would be probably even worse.”

“…dragons? You’re joking.”

Dragons were real now?!

Dean ignored your incredulous remark. “Virgins, right? That’s what I thought. But check this out – according to the coroner, they had a puncture wound over their heart like from some very thin needle – or, more likely, a very thin straw, because their hearts were completely drained of blood.”

Your head was definitely spinning now, your stomach flipping over. You had been getting hungry before, but not so much anymore. You wanted to tune the conversation out, but it was inevitable to hear it. Your ears wouldn’t listen; it was like watching a train-wreck happen and being unable to draw your gaze away. Morbid curiosity played a part too.

God, you really were weird company.

“That’s disgusting,” Sam stated, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen.

You only hummed in agreement, trying to get the visual from your brain. Soulmate. Think of your soulmate and his sultry voice calling you doll. You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, shocked that it actually worked. His voice washed over you, cocooning you in a soft blanket.

“Tell me about it,” Dean agreed darkly, but Sam held out his hand all of sudden, causing both you and Dean freeze.

“What?”

“They found two young men this morning. John Doe One and Two for now. They were…” Sam wavered, eyeing you in the rear-view mirror. Now he was checking with you? You guessed your face was pale as a sheet of paper, but hey, it wasn’t like you couldn’t just try and cover your ears. You nodded at him encouragingly and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “…found in one bed, stabbed in the heart and… ugh, with their… tools ripped off.”

Dean winced, while you just blinked. Did he mean like… wow. Oh, wow. You weren’t sure how to react to that.

“There was a note. We apologize for ruining such pure lives of the sweetest kind and as a prove of our remorse, we present their families with-“ Sam faltered in his speech, gagging. “Yeah, alright. Apparently, the missing part of their bodies was found with the… note. No need to go into details.”

“Yeah, Sammy, I’d be pretty grateful if we stopped talking about that. What now, though? Do we believe this crap?”

“You could have an ally,” you quipped shyly, receiving Sam’s sigh in reply.

“Brutal one, but yes. We need to at least check it out.”

“Yeah, but we get a lunch before that. I need something to comfort me. You traumatized my love muscle, Sam. Do you have any-“

“Yeah, alright, just… stop right there,” Sam stopped his brother, as if shielding himself from TMI by holding out his palm against Dean. “Got it. We need to stop for a bite.”

You giggled, the sound interrupted by your stomach growling. When had you got your appetite back?

“I guess lady in the back agrees,” Dean hummed, grinning in Sam’s direction. You laughed when you came to conclusion that he enjoyed making his younger brother uncomfortable, Sam making a face back at him as he realized the same.

They seemed like a greater pair of siblings the longer you spent with them.

It only took several minutes to get to the town and find a place to eat; Dean seemed to have a talent for finding food, which you appreciated immensely. You hadn’t been eating much, ashamed of using the brothers like that, so you were hungrier than you would be willing to admit. You had a sneaking suspicion that Sam was beginning to notice, because his eyes were narrowed as you picked the cheapest thing on the menu that appeared edible.

“You’re not eating,” he pointed out bluntly the moment the waitress left.

You just gaped at being caught and so shamelessly called out. Dean’s gaze shifted to you and now you had two men glaring at you keeping you company in the boot.

“I’m… not hungry.”

“Your stomach said differently,” Dean reminded you with his eyebrow arched in challenge. You opened your mouth uselessly, the protest dying in your throat at the intensity of his bright green eyes. “If this is about money, get your head out of your ass, Nat. You need to eat.”

“But-“

“But nothing. We’re having a desert,” he shut you up effectively, not permitting any objections.

You sighed, guiltily merging with your seat. A menu was placed in front of you, Dean’s fingers pointing at it.

“Actually, you’re picking one right now.”

You wordlessly obeyed, defeated. “I don’t mean to be difficult,” you whispered apologetically and Sam just shook his head with a smile.

“We know. And I get it, you don’t want to impose and use us, but… we chose to help you. Try to accept it, alright?”

You only nodded, determined to at least find the best dessert. The corners of your lips quirked when you found it.

“Looks like we’re in for an apple pie,” you decided, smirking in Dean’s direction. His eyes lit up and you couldn’t but feel the warmth around your heart at that. You actually did that, made him smile. Maybe you weren’t the worst company in the world after all. “Unless you’re sick of it after-“

Dean’s hand snatched the menu away, shutting it close. “Shut you piehole, Nat.”

Sam laughed as they brought your food.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

You were just finishing your infamous dessert, when the brothers stiffened at the voice coming from behind their back, the other side of the boot.

You frowned, not finding anything strange about the female voice with British accent.

“Thank you, darling. It will be all,” the woman said politely.

The moment the waitress left, Sam and Dean stumbled from their seats and towards the other boot. The tension in their shoulders only grew and they let out a ridiculously synched irritated sigh, multiple emotions playing on their face; you caught annoyance and a bit of anger for sure.

“Rowena,” Sam greeted her in pretended politeness and you couldn’t but check the situation out. They didn’t seem to be happy about running into their acquaintance.

You got a glimpse of a redhead sipping at her tea delicately, her pinkie raised as she held her cup.

“Hello, boys.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 8

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺ 

I adore that woman, I swear. She’s so classy and sassy. 

Also, for those who haven’t seen SPN, I extended the guide at the end of chapter one - you’ll find ‘Chuck’ and ‘Rowena’ there ;)

Thank you for reading!

#marvel #supernatural #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #soulmate au #marvel x spn #steve rogers soulmate #dean winchester #sam winchester #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america #steve rogers #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #dean winchester imagine #sam winchester imagine #team free will #spn x marvel #supernatural fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #mcu #avengers #errare humanum est #anika ann

[jessicajonesrp]

Reminiscing and big news

 

The day of Dorothy Walker’s memorial service and funeral passed with minimal dramatics, thankfully.

As Jessica had promised, she and Luke had remained outside the service, vigilant for any sign of Phillip or anyone else lurking around the building or attempting a disruption. Jessica owned exactly two dresses that she had worn exactly once each, and one of them was a red wedding dress. She owned no “funeral appropriate” clothing, according to Trish, despite the irony of owning quite a lot of black t-shirts, jackets, and jeans. According to Trish, if Jessica wore any of them, despite the appropriate color, the clothes themselves would likely cause Dorothy to rise from the dead just to sputter her indignation at the scandal.

In the end she borrowed a dress from Trish that was a little short in length and tight on her around the chest, which made no sense to Jessica, since she was usually at least a cup size smaller than Trish.  It was not exactly the kind of clothing that was suitable for ass-kicking, which would have made her uncomfortable any time, let alone when she was guarding a place with the actual possibility of ass-kicking. Damn Trish and her adherence to social expectations, but this wasn’t a day Jessica could argue with her.

Phillip didn’t show, although it seemed like every other person even loosely attached to the entertainment industry did. The amount of dramatic grieving from people that likely barely knew or had actively disliked Dorothy made Jessica’s skin crawl just watching them, which made her glad she didn’t have to sit through an entire service of it. No one in particular stood out to her, and the vast majority didn’t recognize her as Dorothy’s adoptive daughter as they passed, whether that was because they wouldn’t associate Jessica with wearing a dress or because Dorothy had managed to put that much distance between them over time. Jessica did notice a short young woman with dark hair and intense eyes look her over a little longer than she considered normal, but the woman didn’t speak to her, and she wasn’t someone that Jessica recognized, so she let it go.

By the time it was all over and everyone was milling around, likely gossiping more than talking about Dorothy, Jessica was more than ready to get Trish and go. She wanted to check in on her and make sure she got through her speech okay, of course, but she also had had to pee really badly. Which was weird, because her morning attempt at coffee and whiskey had not been successfully digested, something she was starting to get actively agitated about. This was not the time to be sick, damn it. She would start to think someone was poisoning her, if she hadn’t been getting all her own drinks herself.

Trish’s eyes were red, her expression tired when she finally emerged with Danny, but she gave Jessica and Luke a smile that was only slightly strained, obviously relieved that everything had gone smoothly. She gave Jessica a hug and kept her in it loosely as she looked past Jessica’s shoulder to Luke and Danny.

“Jess…I know you hate talking and feelings and combinations of the two. But would you please do just one more thing for me?”

Jessica sighed, pulling back from Trish to look at her, but despite the attitude she gave off in her look, she already knew she would say yes. “What are you making me do?”

“I sort of just…I want to go sit somewhere with you, and remember things about Mom,” Trish said softly. “Not like everyone else just did. That was a public thing. It was true, mostly, but it wasn’t the whole story, it wasn’t the Mom we knew. No one else lived with her, no one else but you knew her like I did. Just for a little while. I think it will help me, if you let me talk about things we remember.”

Her blue eyes were so full of both hurt and hope that it was hard to even look at her, let alone say no to her. Her request was about the last thing one earth Jessica wanted to do, but she sighed and nodded, for Trish.

“Fine. Just let me go pee first, I swear I’ve been holding it for like three hours now.”

They ended up sitting together on the couch of Trish’s and Danny’s penthouse, Trish with her knees wrapped around her legs, Jessica a little twitchy and tense at first, but gradually relaxing. She had been afraid that Trish might want to romanticize Dorothy, going into detail about every positive quality that the woman had and conveniently forgetting all the rest, but instead, Trish was wanting to talk about what it had been like when they lived together, or as Jessica thought of it, suffered through mutual Dorothy encounters together.

 

“Do you remember your first Christmas with us?” Trish said with faint smile. “Mom always insisted on going ridiculously all out with decorating, she would actually hire people to put up garland and mistletoe and fake snow and whatever else was chic that year. And she insisted on that huge photo spread of us as a new family in that magazine?”

“God, what the hell was she thinking, putting up mistletoe in a house three women lived in? Who were we supposed to kiss, each other?” Jessica rolled her eyes, before smirking. “Maybe we should have, just to shake her up a bit. That would have been the most viral photo shoot of the year. Patsy Walker makes out with her own sister!”

Trish giggled. “She made you wear that dress that matched mine, and you absolutely refused to smile. In every single picture, every damn one, there was Mom and me grinning like manic Christmas fairies, and you giving your best death glare, all decked out in velvet and lace.”

“She didn’t try that again, after all the comments to the editor speculating about if  her new daughter was  brain damaged or mentally ill from her tragic accident,” Jessica remember, her smirk deepening. “I think they would have cut me out of the pictures entirely if that didn’t kind of defeat the point of the photo shoot.”

“She would get so mad at how you dressed,” Trish reminded her, smiling. “I swear, Jess, I think your style to this day is a defiant reaction to her constantly telling you to comb your hair, put on makeup, and wear clothes with a designer labeled designed for the female body. Who knows, maybe you would be a fashion model if she hadn’t actually encouraged you to be one. You have the height and figure for it, she wasn’t wrong.”

“But absolutely zero interest,” Jessica reminded her flatly. “I outgrew the girly thing about the time I outgrew wearing princess dresses with Sketchers. Even then, Barbies in my hands got their hair chopped off and their bodies tattooed with Sharpie.”

“Remember the time the Thanksgiving caterer she hired somehow brought us the wrong food, for some vegan family, and we had this ridiculous tofu shaped like a turkey?” Trish laughed. “And she tried to cook one herself but never actually turned the oven on, so we had like, a thousand side dishes that all looked and tasted like cardboard, and a frozen turkey? And then you tried to microwave it-“

“Hey, I was 15,” Jessica laughed. “I know now to just order take out. Real take out, not vegan catering shit.”

“And that time she decided we should drive to the movie I was shooting in LA, all the way from New York, because it was about a girl going on a road trip with her friends, and she thought I needed to actually experience a road trip to give an authentic acting experience,” Trish continued, her smile broadening. “No matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t convince her that driving across the country with your manager mother at age seventeen is not at all the same as driving with a group of friends.”

“Oh my god, you’re lucky I didn’t strangle you both with my earbuds,” Jessica muttered, shaking her head. “She literally brought along an It’s Patsy soundtrack to listen to on the road. Does she know how many times I had to sit on my hands to keep from grabbing the wheel to force us over the side of a cliff? I didn’t care if it was suicide, I was fucking ready to die within an hour.”

“She would actually go rant at the gas station attendants about the unacceptable lack of cleanliness and availability of healthy food options in their stores,” Trish remembered, snickering. “I was so mortified. And you locked us both out of the car for an hour at one stop.”

“I needed the peace, what can I say?” Jessica shrugged, smirking. “I would do it again, a thousand times over.”

Trish sighed, her expression going more serious as paused before speaking up again.

“None of this was funny then,” she said quietly. “It probably still isn’t, really. But we’re the only ones that remember. We’re the only ones left that really knew her. Mom…she was a difficult person. Really, really hard to love sometimes, and harder to like. But the good things I said about her back there were true too. She was smart, she had high expectations of herself and others, and she was strong.  She had to be, raising me on her own, wanting me to be more and have more in life than she could. She messed me up, but she always thought what she did was for my best, no matter how much she had to twist up logic to come to the conclusion that it was right.”

Jessica didn’t argue with her, just nodding slightly. What Trish said wasn’t untrue.

“She was toxic for you,” she offered quietly. “But she did love you, as much as she could love anyone besides herself. She was proud of you. She was shit at showing it, but she was. You were her shining star.”

“I know,” Trish said softly, exhaling. “I don’t know if I should be trying to remember the good times, like when she would tuck me in at night and tell me I was the best and most beautiful girl in the world, or the bad times, like when she would slap my face and call me a fat, selfish bitch. But maybe the best thing is to remember it all. Balance.”

Jessica nodded again, putting a hand hesitantly on Trish’s knee. Trish covered it with hers, squeezed, and then entwined their fingers.

“She loved you too,” Trish told her, unknowingly repeating Luke’s words. “I know it probably didn’t seem like it to you. But she did. I know she did. She wouldn’t waste her breath criticizing someone as much as she criticized you, if that person wasn’t someone she loved.”

This was the first time that Jessica had really considered this, and the first time it rang true. She exhaled, accepting the idea, and a bittersweet tightness spread through her chest as she understood that this was something that both she and Dorothy had never expressed and now never could.

Trish leaned her head against Jessica’s shoulder, shifting to settle her body against her. Jessica inhaled sharply when Trish’s shoulder inadvertently jostled the side of her breast, not having expected the tender pain the slight gesture invoked.

“Ow,” she muttered, shifting away from her enough that Trish could remain leaned on her, but wasn’t touching anywhere near her chest. “Hm, maybe I pulled something.”

“Pulled something? Did you break a rib?” Trish asked, concerned, and starting to lift her head. “Did you go out and fight people last night?”

“No,” Jessica shrugged. “Pretty sure you can’t break a boob. Probably PMSing. Or strained a chest muscle from puking. You probably actually don’t want to get this close to me, whatever I’ve had lately is probably contagious.”

Trish’s lips twitched then, and her eyes danced with amusement that she tried unsuccessfully to hide. Jessica stared at her.

“What, we’re so juvenile now we laugh at the word boob? What do you call yours, mammary glands?”

Trish giggled, shaking her head.

“You just aren’t adding things up, are you, Jess?”

“What is there to add?” Jessica demanded, more confused than ever. “When did we change the subject to math?”

“Jess,” Trish said patiently, still fighting a smile. “Think about this. You’re throwing up. You’re wanting to eat weird things and not drink. You cried in front of Danny yesterday-“

“Hey,” Jessica protested, automatically defensive at the mention of crying, but Trish spoke over her.

“You’ve peed three times since you’ve been over here, and now, your boob hurts. Are you starting to see the picture?”

“Yeah, you spend way too much time paying attention to the shit I do,” Jessica grumbled, not seeing at all. “Why are you tracking everything I do, you weirdo?”

“Oh my god, you are the least self aware person I’ve ever met,” Trish groaned, shaking her head. Putting both hands on Jessica’s shoulders, she looked her directly in the eye, speaking slowly and distinctly. “Jessica. Honey. You need to take a pregnancy test.”

“What? I’m not pregnant!” Jessica exclaimed, automatically stunned and dismissive of the idea. “I would know if I was pregnant, Trish, please!”

“Jessica, Danny already told me that you are,” Trish started, which only set her off into sputtering indignation.

“DANNY told you?! He’s been in a parallel fucking world, how the fuck would Danny know a damn thing about whether or not there’s a human being hatching in me?!”

“He saw the baby’s chi,” Trish explained patiently. Giving her shoulders another little squeeze before letting them go, she stood, then gestured for the door. “Right, I can’t let this level of denial go on any longer. Here’s fifty bucks. Go to the pharmacy and buy a pregnancy test. Two of them, at least, the most accurate brands. Go home and take them, and if I’m wrong, you can laugh at me all you want.”

“Baby’s chi- what crap,” Jessica muttered, shaking her head as she stood, taking the money. “Whatever, I’ll buy the pregnancy test, but I’ll buy a few bottles of booze too. So I can celebrate my not-pregnant state once I prove you wrong.”

But an hour later, she was standing frozen in the bathroom of her and Luke’s apartment, staring at the very clearly marked positive of the third pregnancy test she had taken. Two positives had not been enough to convince her, and she had actually gone out to buy another of a different brand from a different pharmacy before she could accept the outcome. But three positives was evidence enough to come to a conclusion.

Danny and his stupid chi was right. Apparently, Jessica was pregnant.

Her hands were shaking when she picked up the phone to call Luke. “Um, when are you coming home? We need to talk about something.”

#jessica jones #jessica jones roleplay #luke cage #luke cage roleplay #trish walker #trish walker roleplay

[easyobsession]

Somewhere Only We Know

“You’re gonna get pissed.” He warns.

“Seriously, Justin, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine,” He pauses again, this time so long Kat is about to lose it, when he finally blurts, “We could get married.”

A Spinning Out fic.

A/N: A few things to get straight: what little knowledge I have about the Olympics, the Village, and ice skating in general is very limited and based solely on what I can find online. Please go easy on me; I’m new to this world. Most of my research for Beijing’s Games is speculation based on past Winter Olympics combined with me also making some of it up.

Also, as we know, we only got one season of this amazing show. While I have done my fair share of research (aka watched every Katstin scene an embarrassing amount of times), if you don’t remember some of the smaller details I mention it’s quite possibly because I made them up. Bare with me and go with it. I’m doing my best.

-

She’s been staring at the ceiling for nearly two hours. She knows this because in those two hours, Kat Baker has looked at the clock more times than she can count. But she’s done her best to stay still and focus on sleep, because if ever a good reason to need a solid night’s rest, this is it. Plus, she isn’t alone.

But it’s been nearly two hours. And after feeling her bedmate shift for the third time in less than ten minutes, she can’t help herself.

“Are you awake?” she speaks softly in case she’s wrong.

“Yes.” Justin’s voice comes so instantaneously it’s obvious he has been for a while. He rolls over onto his side to face her, clearly fed up with the charade. “I know we’re supposed to be too excited to sleep or whatever, but I figured jet lag and exhaustion would kick in eventually.”

Kat sighs. “I don’t think I can lay here anymore.”

“Screw it. Let’s go walk around or something. Get some food. I don’t know,” He shrugs, “Everything is open 24/7 here. Might as well take advantage of it.”

Kat bites at her lip. They have practice tomorrow at 9am sharp and Dasha will kill them if they’re stumbling around exhausted, but she’s so stir crazy right now she can’t bring herself to care.

“Alright, let’s go.”

They both dress quickly and head for the door, remembering to grab their ID badges from the nightstand and doing their best to remain silent as they slip through the common room. Their hands find each other in the elevator as they depart from the ninth floor, and they both give a courteous nod to security as they exit the dorm.

February in Beijing is beautiful, and despite being nothing more than a glorified college campus, the Olympic Village somehow still manages to blow both Kat and Justin’s minds. With a large handful of sky-high dormitories divided up by country, the Village is filled with basic amenities like a post office, bank, laundry facility, a convenience store, several gyms, and a huge cafeteria containing cuisine from around the world at every hour of the day.

Kat and Justin have been here for eight days so far. The first two days were spent getting settled with the other Team USA skaters and personnel, the third day they participated in the Opening Ceremony, and the remaining time has been spent using their allotted practice sessions, hitting the gym for light workouts, and enjoying the experience. They’ve also seen a few events, which is a highlight, and done a couple interviews (Dasha promises there are more to come- super) and some press work.

Mostly though, they’ve been staying close and trying to remain in a good headspace. Their competition begins in three days and their families arrive tomorrow, so for the most part they’re taking Dasha’s advice and focusing on each other.

“This is yours to lose,” she’d said. “Don’t over-think anything. Just stick together and enjoy it.”

This probably isn’t what she meant, but whatever.

After leaving the dorms behind, the duo makes the short walk into the heart of the Village, the nightlife scene far more alive than some might expect. The Village is open 24 hours a day for a reason. Some athletes prefer to train in the later hours, jetlag affecting a large amount, and some seem to need an escape to rid themselves of the jitters. One thing is clear though: everyone is tense. It’s like a university during finals- the pressure is on and everyone is feeling it.

“We should probably skip the caffeine, but how ‘bout hot chocolate?” Justin proposes, their linked hands swaying between them as they approach the commissary.

Kat nods. As much as a huge cup of coffee sounds appealing right now, he’s right. With any luck they’ll hopefully be able to manage at least a few hours of shuteye after this little excursion and a latte screams bad call.

After getting two steaming cups of cocoa (caramel in hers- she’d agreed to forgo the caffeine, not the sugar) they find an empty bench just far enough off the main pathway for a bit of privacy. So far it’s been a blast meeting and getting to know the other athletes from around the world, including several of Kat and Justin’s personal idols, but two AM just isn’t the hour preferred for socializing.

For a while they sit in silence, enjoying the peace and tranquility and the rare chance to people-watch the night owls between sips from their respective biodegradable cups.

“Feeling any sleepier?” Justin questions finally, causing the brunette under his arm to sigh.

“Will you judge me if I say that I’m even more awake than before?”

Justin lets out a curse. “I was hoping it was just me.”

“Gotta love Olympic life,” she ruses, “Well, I’m not going to the gym.”

“Fuck that,” he agrees. They’ve been practicing nonstop as it is. Neither of them is in the mood to ruin what little free time they do have, especially since Dasha never shuts up about the importance of not overdoing it.

“I don’t know. Nothing sounds appealing.” Kat continues, “But I don’t want to just sit here all night.”

For a moment silence falls again until Justin begins to fidget, shifting in his seat and catching her attention.

“What?” she demands, the look in his eye giving him away just like always.

“Nothing.” He quickly dismisses, shaking his head. “Never mind. I’m an idiot. Forget it.”

Kat rolls her eyes. “I know you’re an idiot,” she teases, “You’re my idiot though, which means I’m privy to all of your idiocy.”

“Seriously Kat, drop it. It was a dumbass thought. Let it go.”

“Hey,” the change of tone in his voice causes her to pull back, finding his eyes. Clearly he’s getting upset about something. “Talk to me.”

Justin stares at her for a minute. “You’re gonna get pissed.” He warns.

“Seriously, Justin, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine,” He pauses again, this time so long Kat is about to lose it, when he finally blurts, “We could get married.”

Silence.

“What?” It takes all of Kat’s strength not to screech the word. “Are you- what?”

“I said it was dumb!”

“It’s the middle of the night.” she sputters. “Our families aren’t here. We’ve only been together-”

“What feels like forever sometimes,”

Kat gives him a dirty look. “Really? You’re choosing now to fuck around?”

He raises his hands in defense.

“Look, it was just something that popped in my head.”

“Of all the possibilities, this was the random thought you had?”

Justin glances toward the ground, causing her eyes to go wide.

“This isn’t the first time?” Kat pauses, her voice finally falling back down to its regular decibel. “You’ve thought about this before?”

“Have I thought about marrying you?” Justin snorts, giving up on his hesitance as the insanity of the situation triggers brutal honesty. “I’m 25, Kat, and I’ve been in love with you longer than the two years we’ve been together. Yes, I’ve thought about it.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says quickly. “I don’t have a binder filled with details or anything. It’s just something I’ve thought about, that’s all.”

This seems to catch her attention.

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know.” He shrugs. “You probably don’t want something too big or flashy. Which is awesome, because while my dad will lose his shit and it’ll drive Mandy nuts, I’m actually on board with small and simple. And I know you’ll kill me if I spend too much on the ring, which is the one thing I already have covered-”

“You have it covered?” she interrupts. “Like what, you’ve already bought it?”

He pauses for a minute, staring at her before letting out a sigh.

“I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Justin, seriously, I swear to fucking god-”

“Fine!” he holds up his hands in surrender. “Just give me ten minutes. Stay here.”

“Stay here? Where are you going?” she wants to hit him when he rises from the bench. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Stay here!” He repeats.

“Fuck off!” she cries, yet for some reason her ass remains glued to her seat.

The following ten minutes pass in a slow blur, because what the actual fuck? Ironically it isn’t their relationship, but the fact that they’re skating for Olympic medals in three days that assures her he wouldn’t just leave her sitting in the middle of the Village like a moron, when Justin returns with his hands in his pockets, looking even more nervous than when he left. (Which is understandable, because there’s at least a 50% chance this could lead to his death.)

He lets out a breath as he sits back down next to her, finally revealing his hands and holding up a respectably sized (but not too gaudy) ruby in a band of gold. He places the ring in the palm of her hand, giving a small shrug.

“It was my mom’s.” he explains quietly. “I’ve had it since she died. Dad said she planned on giving it to me eventually.”

“Justin-”

“Look, it was a dumb idea. And I didn’t mean to freak you out, especially when literally the biggest event of our lives is in three days, but… I don’t know.” He shrugs again. “I just started talking and you didn’t stop me. So here we are.”

“So what, you just carry this with you everywhere you go?”

“Fuck you. It’s called being prepared, Baker.”

Kat goes quiet for a minute, her eyes falling from his understandably stressed face to the ring still perched in her palm. This is quite literally the last thing she ever would’ve expected, and yet for some reason the idea of turning him down isn’t her gut reaction. It’s crazy, yeah, but she does love him and they’ve been together for a while. Hell, practically everyone and their brother has brought it up, so it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it, and at the end of the day she could think of a lot worse ways to live her life than spending it with Justin.

“Your mom must’ve had small hands too. Although… I guess we won’t really know if it fits unless you put it on me.” She murmurs finally, causing his head to snap up.

“What?”

“I mean, I won’t be able to wear it on the ice, obviously,” she continues, “And we should probably wait until after the Games to tell anyone, because it’ll only be more pressure if we’re labeled the American Newlywed team. Plus, our families are no question going to kill us- Dasha at the front of the line. We’ll probably have to have some sort of party to make it up to them. Especially Mandy.”

“Are you saying yes?” he asks breathlessly, still unsure if he’s in a daze or acquired brain damage from the cold.

A small grin breaks out on Kat’s face. “I must be crazier than we thought.”

“You’re saying yes!” he surges forward to kiss her, hoping all of his joy can be transmitted through the pressure of his lips. “Holy shit.”

“Does it count if you never put the ring on me?” she questions through a giggle, causing him to let out a laugh of his own as he takes the ring and slides it onto her finger with shaking hands.

“Perfect fit.” He observes, part of him not even surprised because fate is just on their side tonight apparently, before leaning in to kiss her again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She grins. “Mr. Baker,”

Justin laughs. “You joke, but I really could not care less.” He pauses for a second. “Hey, look, I’m sorry this isn’t something better. I mean, I wasn’t planning on renting out the Eiffel Tower or anything, but I wanted to at least make a speech or something. Most of all I know it’s something I planned to talk to you about beforehand.”

Kat shrugs. “Might as well have this be just as weird and dysfunctional as everything else about our lives, right?” She says with a dry laugh. “Besides, you can save the speech for your vows.”

Justin stares at her for a second. “You seriously want to get married at 3AM in a foreign country, in secret, three days before the biggest competition of our careers?”

“Are you getting cold feet already?”

He laughs. “I’m just making sure I’m not dreaming.” He says honestly.

“Oh, you’re awake. And it’s too late to back out now, Davis.” She holds up her left hand where the ring sparkles, looking, Justin can’t help but notice, like it’s always belonged there. “I’ve already got the hardware.”

Justin grins. “Guess I’m stuck then.”

“Looks like it.”

“Huh.” He stands up from the bench and offers her his hand. “Then let’s go get married.”

-

Part 2 Coming Soon. ;)

#spinning out #kat baker #justin davis #katstin #kat x justin #sowk fic

[crystalwillow]

Exiled Problems – Part Six

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey Valentine (F!MC)

Features: Bryce Lahela

Word Count: 1.9K

Warning: This AU features themes of; Angst, Swearing, Alcohol Use, Violence, NSFW Material (Mature Themes, 18+)

Taglist: @sophxwithers @otakudreamer @an-jell-o @curiousconch @mm2305

=================================

The weeks turned into months and before they knew it Ethan and Casey were taking lunchtimes to the park, sitting in the coolness of shade in the warm summer heat. Casey had taken to ordering lunch to Ethan’s apartment or making them a small picnic. Ethan would then pick her up from outside his apartment block and they’d drive to the nearest park and take a stroll around the duck pond or small nature trail before heading back to Ethan’s car and getting back to their respective jobs. The past few months hadn’t been easy on Casey’s family or Bryce and his family if she were to be honest with herself. Tabloid headline after tabloid headline was speculating about what ‘trouble could be in paradise’ for the couple that seemed to be so happily engaged mere months ago.

Truth is, they weren’t engaged; not really. Casey hadn’t said one word to Bryce that didn’t consist of “fuck.”, “dickhead.”, “off”, or a phrase that was similar to that of “If I wanted to catch an STI I’d come home.”

She despised him more than she did her parents. They could have picked from any eligible bachelor for her to fake a marriage to, but they had to pick him. The most insufferable and intolerable man on planet Earth.

Today however, Casey had brought the picnic to Ethan’s office as the rain poured down outside, ping ponging off the Boston streets that are quieter than normal as people stay in work or at home, diving into the nearest store for shelter; or making their way into coffee shops using their jackets as a temporary umbrella from the natural shower that threatens to soak through their clothes.

As she knocked on his office door, Casey shivered a little from the cold and the rain that dampened her clothes as she forgot her umbrella and had to run from the taxi into the hospital. After a few moments the door opened, Ethan’s greet smile falling into a look of concern as he saw Casey shiver.

“You’re soaked.” he exclaims

“Yeah, that… tends to happen when one forgets their umbrella.” she giggles nervously.

He shakes his head with a bemused smile and steps aside, opening the door wider and inviting her in, closing it again swiftly behind her.

“I’ve borrowed a round table from the cafeteria.” he states, motioning to the table that’s a new addition in the corner of his room. Casey looks over at it and smiles. “Your desk would have been fine, you know that right?”

“I do.” he nods, “but as it goes, I wanted this to be somewhat of a romantic lunch. My desk is where I work. I’d rather keep the two things separate.”

“You say that as if you we’re making me lose my mind on there mere months ago, not giving a damn who heard us.” Casey laughs as she sets up the food.

“Yes. Well… I-” he stammers as his face starts reddening slowly.

“Oh my God! You still think about it don’t you?” Casey teases with a sly grin.

“No,” Ethan protests; “I do not!”

“Ahhh the man protesteths too much.”

“Protesteths?”

“It’s part of MY language so keep any criticisms to yourself please.”

Ethan holds his hands up in surrender as he crosses the room and takes his seat next to Casey. As they settled they gave each other smiles before falling into easy conversation that flowed naturally for the next hour as they made their way through the picnic. As they finished Ethan let out a yawn.

“Tired?” Casey asks

“Just a bit. Thank God that I only have 4 hours left today.” he sighs.

Casey gave him a kind smile. “I thought I’d order pizza and dough balls for dinner tonight. I was going to do it so it arrived shortly before you were due back but I can wait and let you have a nap first if you like.”

“That’s… awfully thoughtful of you.”

“Well, our secret date did overrun and ended up in your bedroom last night.” she chuckles.

He responds with a chuckle of his own, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek. She smiled at the gesture, turning her head and captured his lips with her own as she gently pulled him back in by his tie.

“Oh!” he gasps with surprise before responding to the kiss with a deepened passion of his own, the pair reluctantly pulling apart when a knock sounds at the door.

“One moment please.” Ethan calls out then turns back to Casey. “We’ll have to go on another date soon.”

“You plan another stealth outing?” Casey grins imitating a move like one of Charlie’s Angels.

“You’re insufferable.” Ethan laughs looking bemused.

“Yet you still choose to date me in secret.”

“I like you. Why would I?” he asks. “And considering you accept all the invitations and seem to enjoy my company, I guess you like me too.”

Casey smiles up at him with a warm softness and gives him a nod but one thing nagged at the back of her mind.

No you idiot, I love you; but I’m hiding from a fake engagement so we can’t publicly be together the way I want us to be.

Another knock sounds and they jump springing apart from their hug they had naturally fallen into. Ethan cleared his throat as Casey started to pack the tupperware away in the bag she was carrying with her.

“Come in.” He called out.

The door opened and a nurse walked in, placing papers on his desk. “These are the test results for Ms Schneider you ordered Dr Ramsey.” he smiles

“Thank you, Samuel.” Ethan nodded, pulling his eyeglasses from his jacket pocket, and placing them on before picking up the paper and looking at them closely.

“I’ll… see you at home.” Casey spoke up as she reached the door the nurse had just left.

“Hrm?” Ethan hummed looking up, gasping slightly as Casey smiles back at him. “Oh! Yes. I’ll see you at home. Enjoy the rest of your day.” he smiled politely.

Casey nodded and left with a wave over her shoulder, gently closing the door behind her. As she waited at the elevators, a doctor stopped beside her. She gave a polite tilt of her head and a smile, the doctor respectfully returning the gesture. A few seconds later he speaks up.

“Are you Casey Valentine?” he asks.

“Uh… yes.” she answers a bit confused.

“Dr Naveen Banerji.” he smiles back kindly extending a hand, Casey shaking it just as the elevator arrives and they step inside.

“Where is it you’re heading Miss Valentine?”

“Uh. ground floor. Thank you.”

Naveen stood watching as the door closed before he asked his question. “What do you think of Ethan?”

“I’m sorry?” she asks, a little stumped at his boldness.

“Sorry let me give you some back story. Dr Ramsey was my intern when he started here. We’re close and he’s somewhat like a son to me, He’s told me about you.”

“Oh.” Casey responds in surprise. “Good things I hope.”

“He’s told me about your secret dates, explained the tabloid headings I’ve seen.” Naveen sighs as they step out of the elevator. “It seems you lead quite the troubled life Miss Valentine.”

“Please, call me Casey.” she smiles politely.

“Only if you call me Naveen.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” Casey chuckles as they shake hands. “But yes,” she continues with a sigh. “Things are quite complicated and troubled at the moment.”

Naveen smiles sympathetically. “You’ll make it work. I’ve caught you two looking at each other sometimes. You can't fake a bond like the one you two have. You’ll break free of the farce and get your happily ever after. I can feel it.” he nods.

“Really?” Casey ponders and Naveen nods in response as he pulls a card from his pocket. “If you need anything, call me. It’s the number that goes directly to my office. My lunch hour is 11:30 am to 12:30 pm.”

Casey nods as she accepts the card, Naveen holding her elbow and patting it softly with a look of approval in his eyes.

“I best get back to work, Casey. It was lovely meeting you.”

“You too, Naveen.”

The two part ways with a wave and smile before Casey heads to the exit, sliding the card into her back pocket. As she passed the water feature, she looked up to Ethan’s office to see him looking out pensively at the life that was bustling below now that the rain had died off. She waved up to him with a smile and after a moment he noticed her and waved back with a small smile.

As Casey walked around the corner and out of view from Edenbrook an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach and she felt like she should head back into the hospital, but she knew she had work to get back to so she pushed on. That proved to be a mistake when suddenly her world went black as arms restricted her and something covered her head.

“AH!” she screamed, trying to kick out and get her attackers off of her.

“Hold her tighter!” one angry voice shouted.

“I’m trying!” another shouted back.

“Get. Off of me!” Casey yelled as she managed to stomp on one of their feet with her wedged heel, hearing a crunch and yelp of pain. The grip around her arms left as they fell to the ground giving her the freedom to blindly escape her other attacker.

Just as she had been taught, she got them into a position where she had the power before she locked him in a chokehold until they fell to the ground.

------------------------------------

As Ethan was preparing to leave work his office phone rang.

“Hello, Dr Ramsey at Edenbrook hospital speaking. How may I help you?” he said professionally, only to have his professionalism drop when he was informed it was the police calling. “Okay.. Right… I see… Yes. Mhmm. … Well, thank you for letting me know, officer. Of course. Thank you again. Bye now.” Ethan smiled until he placed the phone back on the receiver with a troubled and deep sigh.

When he returned home, he heard sobs coming from the bedroom he was allowing Casey to stay in. His heart was already aching, and the sounds made it worse. He approached the door and raised his hand to knock but stopped himself. He should just let her go, is what he thought to himself. Turning away and heading to his own room, listening; and waiting to hear the front door to his apartment open and close again. Once he did, he made his way to the kitchen, where he found a pizza box with a note on it.

“Ethan.

I’m sorry to leave you like this. I have to abide by my parents' rule for the safety of both of us. These past few months with you have been amazing. The most free and happy I’ve felt since I was young. Please know that I still love you, and it’s you my heart is with. I will return to you once it’s safe to do so, but for now. This has to be goodbye.

All my love,

Casey xx

P.S: Tell Naveen I said hello when you next see him? I met him today, he seems to think of you as his son. It was nice to meet a parent. Oh and enjoy the pizza, I put a little bit of myself into it. You’ll see. Sleep well tonight, know I’m with you.”

A tear slipped down Ethan’s cheek as he looked up from the note and opened the box, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips.

“Oh, Casey.” he sighed shakily with a bittersweet smile upon seeing the chili on the pizza.

That night both went to bed yet had trouble sleeping, their performances at work suffered over the next few weeks as summer turned to fall and Casey's wedding to Bryce crept towards them quicker that either would have liked it to.

=================

#choices stories you play #playchoices #pixelberry studios #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction #ethan ramsey fanfiction #oph mc #ethan ramsey #casey valentine #bryce lahela #ethan x casey #au’s by lahamseiroshoe #lahamseiroshoe writes