#just please god i hope this fixes itself soon so i can go to school not fucking sleep deprived or numb

[thefactsofthematter]

u asked and i will deliver. if u want to write this feel free to change literally anything but

model davey! he graduated college with honors, has a degree in poli sci, and was literally about to go to law school before being signed to a modeling agency- thus starting a turbulent relationship with his family. he starts doing runways and soon moves into print works and even in his short time of modeling he’s become a frequent in some of the most well-known fashion magazines. this is great, this is amazing- but it has an impact on his mental health that he wasn’t ready for.

enter jack kelly, the makeup artist that somehow always seems to work with davey; jack is known for his bold editorial looks and impeccable work, yet he has quite the image in the industry. he’s stubborn, he’s unorthodox, he’s got quite the temper, but his work speaks for itself. jack is the guy who never wears makeup to shoots, he never dresses up unless it’s something important, he’s got piercings and tattoos and a list of bad habits following him wherever he goes.

anyway blah blah they fall in love they indulge in bad habits and reckless things they get better and boom they’re everyone’s favorite powerhouse couple!!!

ohohohoho JAC!!! i’m obsessed!!! god a model au just tickles my brain the perfect way and this is everything @we-are-inevitable

here’s a fun (or possibly fucked up? idk those are synonyms to me sometimes) little one shot! tw for some mentions of disordered eating - as one might expect from a model au

-

David Jacobs is a nice person.

For all twenty-three years of his life so far, he’s told himself that. It’s been mostly true— he’s never had much of a temper, he treats people with empathy and kindness, and he’s never been demanding or high-strung. He’s normally a pretty chill person who’s easy to please, and who genuinely likes to help people and make them happy.

Nothing about the past year has been normal, though, and he’s starting to realize it might be messing with him a little. Just a few weeks ago, parents were bitching about how much he’s changed, and he thought it was bullshit… until he suddenly catches himself storming away from his personal assistant (which he has now, by the way,) after shouting:

“Just stop talking and figure it out yourself! Can you fuck off and leave me alone for two fucking seconds? Oh my god.”

And then he’s off, out the back door of the set, to sit on the fire escape and try to cool down. He knows he’s being an asshole, but he’s at the end of his rope— he hasn’t eaten an actual meal in three days, there’s makeup caked all over his face and too much product in his hair, he’s sick of people touching him and telling him what to do, and fucking Romeo won’t stop reminding him how busy he is by asking stupid questions about his jam-packed schedule for the next few days. He has a runway show tonight that’ll go to at least midnight, and a 5 AM call time for a shoot tomorrow, and then an afternoon flight to Paris— he doesn’t care which of the two hotels Romeo booked he actually stays at, because they’re both five stars anyways, so it shouldn’t be this much of a hassle to pick one and cancel the other, and it’s something that should be able to get taken care of without needing to bother him about it.

He instinctively goes to rub at his eyes once he’s outside, but he freezes when he hears:

“If you fuck up your makeup, I’m not fixing it for you. I hope you’re done shooting in there.”

His head snaps to the side, and he sees none other than Jack Kelly.

He’s leaning against the wall, with half of a foil-wrapped bodega breakfast sandwich in one hand and a coffee in the other, obviously on a break. He’s still wearing his makeup-stained apron over his clothes— comfy-looking joggers and a t-shirt that shows off his tattoo-covered arms— and he’s got a Givenchy beanie perched almost precariously high on his head. He doesn’t seem pissed, mostly amused, but Davey has heard rumours about his allegedly quick temper; fucking up his work would be a good way to get on his bad side.

“Sorry,” Davey sighs. He folds his arms over his chest to keep his hands away from his face. “I think I’m done— they might want more shots once they look at what we’ve got, though. I don’t know. I have to get out of here soon for a fitting uptown either way.”

It was Jack who applied the fancy, editorial eye makeup that Davey nearly ruined— his apprentice does the base layers of foundation and whatnot, but it’s Jack’s artistic vision and skill that people pay for when they book him for stuff like this, so he does the important parts himself. He takes his sweet time, snapping at people when they try to rush him, which is why Davey spent over an hour in the makeup chair this morning.

It’s probably the tenth or-so time Jack has done his makeup, but they’ve barely ever conversed, both of them too busy being pulled in a million different directions by everyone else on set.

“Busy day, huh?” Jack chuckles. His nose crinkles a little when he laughs, and it makes his septum piercing wiggle. He takes a bite of his sandwich and then talks as he chews. “What were you yelling about in there?”

Davey very nearly rolls his eyes.

“Nothing,” he mutters. “It’d just be nice if my assistant would fucking assist me sometimes, instead of asking me a million questions about every stupid little thing. He drives me insane, I swear.”

Jack quirks an eyebrow.

“Fire him, then.” He shrugs. “You’d have to start calling your own Ubers and picking up your own coffees, though… might be tough.”

Davey is pretty sure he’s joking, but he does have a point— Romeo takes care of a lot of the day-to-day shit that Davey himself doesn’t have time for anymore, everything from posting on his social media to ordering his groceries. He does a lot more than anyone gives him credit for.

“I’m not gonna fire him. He’s a good kid,” Davey sighs. “I’m just… pissed off right now. I needed to get outside and breathe for a minute.”

Jack finishes his sandwich, crumpling up the foil and shoving it into a pocket of his apron. He then reaches into a different pocket and procures a joint and a lighter.

“Here.” He holds them out to Davey. “Chill out a little.”

Davey blinks, staring more at Jack’s tattooed fingers than what’s held between them, and then quickly shakes his head.

“Sorry, no. I don’t smoke.”

Jack laughs.

“You’re a model, and you don’t smoke?” he teases. “That’s funny, tell another one.”

Maybe it was a good thing he hasn’t talked much to Jack before— he’s really fucking annoying.

“Fine, only cigarettes,” Davey ultimately concedes. “I’m not into weed.”

Jack shrugs and lights the joint, taking it to his own lips for a puff.

“Suit yourself.”

It’s quiet for a second as Jack exhales the smoke. He’s a real picture of effortless beauty— he’s obviously not thinking about his appearance right now, but there’s something almost untouchable about how casually gorgeous he is.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Davey ends up adding, “but I get so hungry when I’m high. I’m on a diet right now, so I can’t do that to myself.”

Jack shakes his head.

“Models… maybe that’s why you guys are brats. You’re hangry all the time.”

“Hangry?”

“You know, hungry and angry. You get all irritable because your agent convinced you a human can survive on, like, three almonds a day, when any sane person knows that’s bullshit.”

Davey’s stomach grumbles annoyingly, as if on cue. He’s not even that hungry. He already had a coffee this morning anyways, which should’ve been enough to get him through to dinner time.

“You’re kind of a dick,” Davey remarks. He wouldn’t typically be so blunt, but his bad mood is making him lose his filter. “What’s your deal?”

Jack shrugs.

“I’m tired. People think I’m an asshole for trying to take my time and do my job right, but when I rush it and cut corners to keep people happy, they get pissed that it doesn’t look good. There’s no winning, and it’s fucking exhausting.” He takes another puff of the joint. “Pays the bills, though.”

Davey rolls his eyes.

“That hat you’re wearing retails for, like, five hundred dollars. I think it pays more than your bills.”

Jack laughs, and it’s not that cynical chuckle from before. He actually smiles, caught off guard by the remark.

“Fair point. In my defence, I got the hat for free from a photoshoot. Another perk, I guess.”

Davey finds himself smiling too.

“How long have you been doing makeup?”

“I’ve been playing with it forever,” Jack replies, “but professionally, about five years. How long have you been in the game?”

“Almost a year.” Davey pauses. “I was in school— I actually finished undergrad and got into law— but it wasn’t right. I got scouted in August, and thought fuck it, I might as well try. It worked out pretty well, I’d say.”

Jack eyes him sort of curiously.

“You gave up law school for this?”

“Got out of going to law school, more like. I didn’t want to do it.” Davey shrugs. “It was more my parents’ thing. I wasn’t that interested.”

Jack blows a ring of smoke, almost absentmindedly.

“How do they feel about your career change?”

Davey shakes his head.

“I haven’t talked to them in, like, a month, if that tells you anything.”

“Damn.” Jack offers the joint to Davey again. “You sure you don’t want some?”

A pause.

“Fuck, I guess a couple hits couldn’t hurt.”

Jack grins and passes it over.

“I knew it.”

Davey silently takes a breath of smoke. It’s been forever since he’s indulged this way, and it feels good. He coughs a little on the first hit, but his head almost immediately feels clearer, so he goes for another.

“Feel better?” Jack asks, after a long moment.

“Yeah,” Davey breathes. “Thank you.”

He passes the joint back to Jack, who stubs it out on the railing— there’s just enough left that he could relight it for a few more puffs later, once this little buzz wears off.

“We should hang out sometime,” Jack offers. “I’d like to get to know you, Jacobs.” He pauses. “Any relation to Marc?”

“Nope. I walked for him in the spring, though.” Davey laughs softly. “You’re right, we should hang out. I’m going to Paris tomorrow, but I’ll be back in two weeks— let’s plan for then.”

Jack picks his coffee up from where he set it on the windowsill.

“I’ll bring the weed, if you bring home some cool European snacks for us to try.”

Smoking and snacking are both habits that Davey should be trying to avoid— but god, would it ever feel good to unwind when he gets home from this work trip. Maybe he deserves a night to relax with a new friend.

“Sounds good to me,” he replies, against his better judgement. “I should go, but I’ll DM you, okay?”

“Perfect,” Jack says. He waves as Davey turns to head inside. “Have a great trip. Take it easy on your poor assistant, okay?”

Davey laughs.

“Will do. I swear I don’t normally yell at people like that. Just… running low on patience today, y’know?”

That’s a stretch— he runs low on patience pretty often these days, and Romeo tends to take the brunt of it, but Davey pays him to deal with it, so he doesn’t feel that bad about it. When you’re a star, there’s certain things you can get away with: Davey’s occasional bitch fits are no worse than Jack’s famous temper tantrums. When you’re at the top, who’s going to give you shit about it?

“Oh, I know.” Jack winks. “I think we’ve got a lot in common, Dave.”

Davey smiles coyly over his shoulder as he heads back inside. He knows he looks good— he revels a little in the way Jack’s gaze stays glued to him. Maybe he’s admiring his own work, but maybe he’s admiring the canvas underneath it.

“I think you might be right. See you around, Kelly.”

And then he’s immediately being hurried back into a makeup chair so someone can clean his face, in order for him to be whisked off to the fitting that he’s already late for— at this point, people know better than to expect him to be on time.

Again, he’s a star, he does what he wants.

If he wants to waste time smoking outside with Jack Kelly, nobody’s going to stop him. Maybe he’ll make a habit out of it.

#in which davey is a bitch and jack is an asshole and they just work. #they are deeply unpleasant bc of their respective mental health issues that they refuse to deal with and now they enable each other teehee #poor romeo lol #idk why i picked him when i could’ve picked any newsie it just felt right #jack kelly #davey jacobs #javid #model au #my writing #i hope this is the vibe you were going for!!! ily jac!!

[cl-babydew]

Oh wow, tbh I did not expect you to respond this soon-

IZZY!! WELCOME BACK!! I MISSED YOU SO SO SOOOO MUCH!! 💞😭

I'm so happy to hear that things are okay back home.part of me was starting to get extremely worried 😖

I hope neither of the parents caused you any trouble during the time you were gone..

Okay so, five things for now:

You know, it's actually been a long since you told me about the new dog you got. How's Puddles doing? 🙂 (that was her name right?)

The cafe got closed down???? 😧 What happened? Also what new job did you apply for? (If I'm allowed to ask)

Aww, you're welcome!! 🤗 I'm glad you love the cake~! Thanks; I had fun designing it~☆

Did you finish or start any new shows (anime or cartoons) while you were away from tumblr? What are you binging right now? (if you are)

Do you know if you're able to use the DMs again? Has that been fixed yet??? PLEASE tell me!!😫 I just miss the privacy we had there.. (Btw in the new placed you made for us to chat in, in the replies, I remember there were a couple things I left there that you still hadn't seen. Just to remind you!)

I hope we can get a chance to catch up during this time.

Have a good night! ✨

Yeah!!! XD I didn’t wanna leave ya hanging any longer!! Gosh I’m so sorry that I was worrying you tho!!!

But I am doing alright!! X3 And thankfully my parents are doing better too!!! Slowly but surely!!

I MISSED YOU TOOOOO!!🥺❤️

1.) She’s doing good!!! X3 Big trouble maker for sure tho! X,D She barks too much! And with the type of bark an Aussie has, it’s not fun! XD And yes!! You got her name right!!! X3

2.) It closed down a few months back!! X3 The owners prayed about it and felt that it was time to close so they could focus on their kids! So it was definitely a sad time honestly! As for the other job, I did apply for a bakery job, but never heard anything from them for a while! Meanwhile, I got a job offer a few weeks ago!! I just gotta send my papers this week!! X3 If you ever heard of the program, ‘God’s Promises’ I’ll be doing that!! It’s kinda like a daycare/school before the kids go to actual school! X3 I was just asked to be a substitute, but it’s possible I could work full time in the fall!! X3

3.) I do!!! X3❤️

4.) I did binge Sonic Boom!! Finished that a week ago!! I’ll be starting Prime soon! X3 While I did happen to watch Dr. Stone!! All caught up anime wise!! I never got to update that on here tho! X,D My bad! I’ll need to soon! But that’s basically it!! X3

5.) Sadly no!! X,3 I think since half the side of my phone isn’t completely working, it’s effecting that too! Like I can type just fine, well sorta, some letters on the right of my keyboard don’t always work! X,3 But the send button itself just isn’t working, which I’m guessing since it’s on the right side of my phone! X,3 So that doesn’t help! I definitely rather DMs, and wish they stinken were tho! X,3 And ah Thx for the heads up there!!!! Cuz I thought I responded to everything! XD

Same!!!

I hope you have a good night too!!

Love you!❤️

How are you doing btw? X3

[mutigold]

∞ teacher’s pet — i.n.

summary: in which the top student fails a test and gets extra help from his favorite professor.

pairing: student!jeongin x teacher!reader

genre: college!au

warning: sub!jeongin, dom!reader, pet play, noona kink, exhibitionism, handjob, ear licking, humiliation, quirofilia, seduction, he still has his braces.

word count: 1.9k

authors note: i really don’t know where this idea came from, but all i know is subby jeongin = 🤤. thank you for supporting me! watching people like my little writings really make my day.. hope y’all enjoy this <3. stream “Going Dumb”!

“would anyone like to explain what it means to be dependent on an organism?”

jeongin’s eyes concentrated on you, as he listened to your voice encompassing the leveled platform. today’s lecture was based on the living organisms in the world and you seemed to be determined for everyone to learn the curriculum.

however, jeongin could not focus on anything except your figure. you were wearing a white skin-tight turtleneck and black formal pants that emphasize your ass. all topped off with a large suit jacket and black louis vuitton heels.

it overall made his heart jump for joy just enjoying the view.

he thought about how those heels would look wrapped around his waist as he pounds into you; screaming his name. or maybe how your tiny hand would slip around his throat as he begs for your come.

“mr. yang?”

jeongin quickly snaps out of his trance to hear you calling his name. and not in the way he wanted.

you looked up at him with sad eyes, upset at him for not paying attention to your favorite lesson. “what’s going through that head yours? is it more important than organisms?”

he quickly fixed his posture, shaking his head rapidly, and responded with, “n—no, i’m sorry noona. i just was thinking too hard about something. i’ll promise to listen from now on.”

you hummed with caution, continuing the biological lecture. the student sighs gratefully for you letting him go off easily and tries to at least take some notes.

“yo, i.n. you okay?” a familiar voice whispered.

jeongin turns to see his two close friends, seungmin and felix, staring down at him in question. “yeah, you seem a little off today.”

confirming he says, “uh. y—yeah; i’m okay.”

“mhmm. okay with staring professor y/n down huh?” felix smirks.

the heat on i.n. 's cheeks becomes noticeable when hearing about his staring. he then tries to ignore the statement by writing his name and the current date in his notebook.

“leave him alone felix. he’s just probably having some problems with the lesson; you should perhaps ask noona for help.” seungmin tries to intervene.

“yeah; i mean, maybe noona can also help you with other problems. if you know what i mean.” felix grins bumping jeongin’s arm.

“f—felix!”

“boys?! care to tell us what is so interesting other than my lesson?” your voice suddenly booms throughout the room. jeongin jumps at your tone and begins to apologize again once making you soften.

“that’s alright, but please pay attention. oh, and jeongin, stay after class for a few minutes to speak with me.”

he didn’t know what to think at that moment; with felix oohing in one of his ears and seungmin trying to shush him in his other or the fact that you wanted to talk to privately.

alone, with no one around, made his mind officially shut down.

“you wanted to speak with me noona?”

you shifted around to see jeongin’s stiff form; then took note of how nervous he looked and gave him a light smile. “hey, kiddo. i just wanted to see how you were doing lately.” you wished to see some type of relief release through him.

but unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

he still looked kind of anxious to speak with you, letting you know how intimidating you seemed. “hey it’s all good, you're not in trouble or anything, i promise. i’ve noticed how you’ve been acting recently in my class and how your scores dropped a little,” you reassured.

“ai! i’m so sorry noona!”

you giggle at the student’s consistent apologies. in your mind, you thought how cute he was; like a puppy aching to gain approval from its owner.

maybe you could make him as your puppy and work hard for that admiration.

immediately, you shake your head from the naughty images. ever since the semester started a few months ago, your thoughts almost ran around yang jeongin.

how his pretty smile, concealed by clear braces, shined at your speaking, how his crescent-shaped eyes followed your every move; making you feel sexy, how large and veiny his arms grew over time within the season, etc.

“that’s alright, jeongin. i just want you to feel comfortable in my lectures. how about this, you and i have a session later this evening to cover the material for the next exam. what do you think pup’?” you offering, accidentally calling him by the pet name you gave him.

after catching the tiny nickname, jeongin clumsy drops his possessions while feeling something swell in his pants. he begins to overthink the word. pup’? why did that sound so nice coming out of your mouth? and how was he gonna hide the fact that his dick got hard in the middle of their conversation?

“i–i’m sorry!”

“oh! no worries hun! here; let noona help you out.”

you instantly proceeded over, bent down, and gathered i.n.’s school objects. starting with some of his blue pens, his macbook, and then his green two-subject notebook. “n–noona! i got the notebook, it’s okay.” jeongin stuttered.

it was almost like he was trying hard to hide something in the notebook, and suddenly it all made sense as it opened to the front page.

yang y/n. it was his surname combined with your first name.

it seemed as if time swiftly froze with silence when discovering the secret. however, it didn’t bother you essentially much as jeongin thought it would have had. “aw, pup’, this is cute. yang y/n has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

the air that was in jeongin’s lungs properly stopped working when distinguishing how seductive your tone became. “i–i..”

“relax a lil’ pup’. listen, will you promise to meet me later this eveningfor some tutoring. i think you could really use it. plus if you’re good–”

you shifted closer to the student’s ear lobe and whispered, “–noona could give you a reward.”

jeongin swore he felt some pre-cum drip down from his pants. “y–yes, noona.” he swallowed trying to moist his dry throat, then jumped moaning in pleasure when your small hand gripped around his erection.

“good. see you then, pup’.”

a few hours later, jeongin ends up at the university’s public library, not knowing what to expect. though, he did make sure to be ready for any possible situation. what did you mean by rewarding him? did you feel the same way he did?

you must have since you did touch his swollen cock during your conversation. or maybe it was just his imagination?

jeongin sighs restlessly thinking of the concept while waiting for your arrival. that soon ends as he hears your alluring voice greet out, “hiya pup’! ready for our lesson?”

he peers up from the library’s table to see you wearing informal clothing. a tight crew neck that reveals your smooth arms extending down to red-painted nails and large breasts bouncing with every step you take.

“ah! i hope you weren’t waiting too long, i got held up in traffic.”

“t–that’s okay noona! i just got here.”

you smile at his nervousness, now acknowledging where it came from, and sat down in the hard chair right next to him. “good, we can get started. i hope you’re ready,” you whispered, feeling an urge to dominate.

jeongin gulps recognizing a certain excitement coming from his pants within hearing your tone and replies with, “r–ready?”

“so, what does adaptation consist of?”

jeongin couldn’t comprehend what you were saying being he focused on the way your glossed-up lips looked. the way he could imagine it wrapped around cock or it traveling up and down the side of his neck molding kisses; it worked him to the point where he was solid hard.

“pup’, what is going through that mind of yours?”

“s–sorry. it’s just, i guess this lesson isn’t grasping in my head yet.” he tries to explain not wanting to upset you.

however, instead of upsetting you, your colored eyes just darken. “oh! i have any idea; remember when i said i would reward you if do good–”

jeongin nods excitedly, making you giggle.

“–well, i know you understand the concept of this chapter. so to push you a little more, i’ll ask you a question and if you get it right, that little cock of yours will get to come.”

the student freezes up at your approach, thinking it was a dream too good to be true. “w-wait what?”

“what is the definition of homeostasis?”

“i, uh, i think it's an organism's constant adjustment to maintain stable conditions in itself?”

you reached under the table discreetly and unbuttoned the pants on jeongin grasping his swollen cock. “o-oh my god, noona!”

“shh, pup’. you gotta be quiet for me; now onto the next question. who created the biogenesis theory?”

jeongin’s breath became too much for him to handle feeling the pre-cum drip from his blood-filled tip. “n–noona, please.”

“come on puppy, tell me the answer or i stop.”

his mind starts to rush trying to find the answer before you let him go. it took him a couple of seconds, but once he got it, he hurried to speak. “henry charlton bastain!”

“good puppy.” your tiny hand moves faster, satisfied with the statement. you felt his cock throbbing with every stroke you took. like jeongin, you dreamt of this same exact moment. you wanted to control the poor student every time he walked through your room, when he made eye contact with you, or even when his plump bottom lip was bitten from his teeth.

and finally, it was happening.

“oh, who’s a good puppy for noona?”

“m-me! i am noona.”

“that’s right pup’. next question, what are the five steps to the scientific method?”

i.n.’s vein from his cock popped out sensing the rubbing moving faster than before. “i only know four noona!”

“too bad, i wanted five or i slow down.” you coldly demand.

jeongin began to try to think hard on the five steps letting the sensation run through his body. “o-okay. it’s defining the problem, making a hypothesis, testing it, analyzing the results… then..”

your hand slows at his hesitation. “give me the last one puppy.”

“oh! noona, don’t stop! i–i. is it d–drawing the conclusions?”

“good puppy!”

his cock grows bigger when your finger grips at the base. then, you painted nails lightly scratch at his tight balls. “oh! noonaaa. that feels sooo goood. pleaseee.”

“continue to answer like a good pup’ then i’ll keep going.”

soon after the next few questions, jeongin sits near his breaking point. “nooonnnaaa! please!”

“grab your textbook and hold it up.”

i.n. clutches the hard-covered biology book to cover both you and him from public eyes. suddenly, you lower yourself to his lips, deeply kissing him with tongue, and wander towards his earlobe. “one more question, pup’. what does stimulus mean?”

“uh! noona! please let me come! make your puppy come!” he moans a little too loud.

“shh. answer the question, then i’ll let you come.”

“s-stimulus? it m-means anything an organism responds to.”

you then move your head to spit down to moist his penis. “good puppy! getting your small cock rubbed in front of everyone like a little slut.” you cup the back of his neck feeling the shivers release through him.

“you can come pup’, come for noona.”

jeongin then lets go, coming hard in your hand. “o-oh! thank you, thank you noona!”

after guiding him to his high, you let go of him and licked the white, sticky substance from your hand.

“good puppy. i’m sure you’ll be ready for that next exam.”

#stray kids #skz #skz imagines #skz jeongin #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x stay #skz x y/n #skz x you #smut #sub!idol #sub!skz #sub!jeongin #dom!reader #kpop #kpop smut

[rrasado]

Hello! Its me hearts-chan! Hope your having a wonderful day rras ❤❤

May i request a headcannon for the first years with an mc who is pretty much a grim reaper (like ones in black butler if you have watched it) and make it platonic 😊

Again have a great day! 💘💝💖💗💓💞💕❣❤🧡💛💚💙💜💟

Met at Scythe point

I’ve only ever watched book of circus from Black butler so I’m gonna rely on my research for the accuracy of these headcanons kddkn. BE PREPARED-

When you’re a reaper

The guy was probably on another routine for the sake of the rules of the queen of hearts. The gardens of Heartslabyul needed tending to and it just so happened he saw the tool he needed- well goddamit it ace you should know by now that there is more to what meets the eye-

Suffice it to say, the way you just seemingly come out of nowhere to snatch back your precious weapon made him realize a lot of things on the spot. One of them being how you’ve always been faster than most.

Whether you tell him yourself or not, Ace is gonna figure out on his own how you’re not...purely human. But hey- If you do tell him yourself- he’s gonna ask you one thing and one thing in particular-

“Oi...who’s gonna die soon-“

and then you hit him. It’s not like you’re actually there specifically for someone heck you just winded up here after a mistake in the dispatching process. But overall ace would go from care free to careful.

He’ll try to goof around less and use that energy to just- observe you as much as he can, because admit it or not yknow he himself has more than meets the eye. Friend or foe which one are you to eachother I wonder...

Deuce well...oddly enough he’s already noticed something from you from the start.

Call it solidarity or whatever- but he’s sensed that air of subdued superiority on you since day one, that’s coming from someone who’s surrounded himself with a diverse bunch of people in his ruffian days.

But he never dared question your hyphened abilities, maybe you were just like him or the others who are born athletic? No there’s really something irking him whenever you jump...as if defying gravity itself.

“Trey senpai said there was a mower in need of fixing...ah-“

...wrong mower deuce- no even better the way you just swung the mower out of his reach over your head like it’s nothing is just- please explain before the bb gets even more confused about the laws of life, he doesn't trust himself about anything anymore after the egg incident-

Hm...you broke him. No but on a serious note- he’s gonna have a hard time wrapping his head around the concept of...his friend being a supervisor of death. But hey, you’re both learning in the process right? He’ll try too maintain the prior dynamic you already had but...god remind him to be cautious around gardening tools-

It was fine he was fine we were all fine- great seven did you just leap off the school building- wait you’re fine? You were just reviewing something? WHAT IN GREAT SEVEN’S NAME DO YOU NEED TO REVIEW ON THE CASTLE SPIRAL-

Jack takes it the hardest in terms of accepting it. By that I meant- you...keep tabs on the cycle of life and death... he does not hear he does not hear-

The first year savanaclaw student takes a good few days to process the news. In that duration he wonders whether his view on who is good and who is bad kinda...topples. But when he talks to you again and continues your already established friendship, he’ll learn that one’s character doesn’t always align with what they do.

“Hey...do you enjoy your duty.?”

It was an innocent question one he meant well in, he just wanted to confirm many things but the way you became reluctant just...told him that it’s not a good conversation topic in broad daylight.

Overall, he’s gonna put his faith in you as he continues to stay by your side, you are after all still his friend...despite being probably able to surmise the lives of those near their end but- that's Not something he should be worrying right now.

Epel...took it the wrong way- No dear, as much as it seems cool it’s not...all power and glory.

The initial admiration quickly turns into abstract fear when it finally sinks into him how you’re not...a glorified guide to the afterlife with a cool oversized blade. The stories painted your kind wrong in this world huh?

In short- be prepared for having to catch him before he stumbles to the ground- fully denying his terror when you ask him if he’s alright while shaking a bit in your arms. You’ll have to explain it very slowly and lightly to him how no you’re also not the type of reaper that forcefully reaps out souls from bodies in a spur of crimson

“E-eh-...you’re still our friend right?”

Assurance is key with him, so treat him slowly but surely whilst not hiding every single fact from him. It’s a fickle balance but it’s definitely something that’ll pay off once he comes into terms with the fact.

And when he does...you can bet he’ll use your status as a cool threat to others. Not everybody has a Grim Reaper as a buddy right? Take that you cunts-

I pray for this boy’s soul, literally- the moment you accidentally reveal your true status he just- instantly feels the need to channel all his faith into his one and only waka sama.

Like Epel, sebek would take it the wrong way...thinking of your revelation as a pathetic attempt at a prank, he's seen how most students at school do such childish ministrations. How would you be any different?

By all means you are on every level different, the diasominan resident's denial diminishes when he slowly recounts every instance with you. You weren't his everyday ruffian were you...there's certainty in every action you execute, and when you act on your goals your drive is unstoppable.

"Huma- n-no...you..."

The way he attempts to keep up his boisterous personality with you is both amusing and pitiful. Honestly...his perception of those with power and those beneath become blurry. Heck he wonders where you truly stand compared to the young master.

You're gonna have to assure him that despite your inhumane nature you aren't some omnipotent being like he thinks... Omnipotence born from tragedy is not a blessing of authority, at least.. that's what you thinks anyways.

#hdkjfherhfuhf gomen if this wasn't what you meant #but imagine chasing them with your scythe- #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst #twst headcanons #twst ace #twst deuce #twst jack #twst epel #twst sebek #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #twst first years #rras writes #writings from the eclipse

[maiyasuniverse]

A Call Away

Pairing: Loki x Black Reader

Warnings: violence, sexual assault. Toxic Friends

Summary:

"Come on girl you're making us late." Alexis said taping her fingers against the wall. You took a deep breath and continued fixing your hair.

"You guys can go without me I think I want to stay home. My camps are making me feel like shit. I'd be no fun." Natalie rolled her eyes.

"You're never any fun but you're our way in. The guy throwing the party likes you. You're coming end of story." You had been friends with them since middle school but things were changing and this just goes to show things aren't changing for the better.

"Well you could just take your ass home too and we all have a good nights rest." You rolled your eyes before standing up. "Get your shit and come on. I'm not staying long." You wrote Loki a note saying that you would be back later on tonight and that he should wait up for you if he gets there first.

The party wasn't far since your apartment was still on campus. Walking up you could hear the loud music and rowdy crowd on the other side of the door.

Walking up you hear them laughing among themselves about some bet. They probably had something dumb planned for the night. The man watching the door nodded his head and said something about Nate being happy you were there.

As soon as you walk through the threshold your group of three turns into two. A pang of hurt finds itself luring in your stomach. You make your way to the kitchen to find Nate making drinks.

"Y/N I didn't think you'd come." He poured something in a cup and held it out to me. "It's Tequila." Then held the liquor bottle up for you to see. "Only the best for you." He smirked.

You pushed the unsettling feeling to the back of your mind and thanked him for the cup. Telling him that you two would never be more than friends would be useless because you've said it so many times before.

After your first few sips your sight became hazy and your body tired.

"Woah Y/N if I knew you couldn't handle your liquorI wouldn't have made it so strong. Let me help you upstairs." You tried to push his hands away and decline his offer but he still pulled you up the stairs.

"Let me help you into the bed. I hope I didn't give you too much." You giggled now fully sedated my the roofie he'd slipped in your drink.

"Thank you Nate, I really don't feel too hot. I have a hot date tonight and this is totally going to kill it. Will you pass me my phone so I can call him?" You couldn't hear Nates response over the cold breeze that swept over your tight and stomach. You tried to feel for the fabric so you could pull it down but it was cut.

"Nate there's something wrong." You pushed yourself to sit up but was quickly pushed back down. "Please." You found yourself begging. You could feel yourself coming to again.

"Shhh be quiet. Wouldn't want anyone to catch us. You know I always thought you fat bitches were disgusting but you're so soft," He feather kisses across your stomach and exposed chest making you sick.

"Please stop." You found yourself thinking to a certain god who you were supposed to watch Disney movies with tonight. Before you could think about it you whispered "Loki help me please." Tears were rolling down your cheeks.

"This is-"

"What exactly is this." Loki ripped the man from your body. "It looks to me as if you're abusing my woman."

Nate stood at the corner of the room half naked and lost for words.

"Five seconds and I will seriously freeze you." Loki waved his hand and looked back to you.

"Oh my sweet girl." He pulled you up and sat you at the edge of the bed. He sat his hand on top of your head and the dazed feeling instantly left your body. "Let's get you back dressed." He waved his hand over your cut open bra and dressed and fixed them instantly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to miss our date. Alexis and Natalie asked me to get them in and then he gave me a drink. Nate was my friend and he tried to rape me. I thought he was my friend. What if they set me up." Loki grabbed your hands and kneeled down.

"Breathe and close your eyes. Deep breath in." He did the breathing exercises with you until you saw yourself getting dressed and Loki was standing to your right. "Before we walk through this I want to know that you're up for it. I know that you're not going to be okay no matter how many times you say you are. I also want you to understand that whom ever was involved in this is going to get what they gave."

"I'm ready."

TBC....

#loki fluff #loki angst #dark #mcu loki #marvel series #black representation #coping #marvel #bucky barnes #steve rogers #college #loki x plus size reader #loki love

[galaxysessions]

You two are dancing in a snow globe round & round / and he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown…

Amanda looked at her reflection in the cloudy mirror hanging from the interior of her locker door. The pads of her fingers swiped expertly beneath blue eyes, hoping to catch any mascara that had strayed through out her day. She fluffed the hair at the crown of her head, wanting to bring life back to her blonde waves, and in a brief moment of psychosis she contemplated running to Duane Reade to purchase a spray or even a hot tool that could save her. Amanda let out an audible groan - at the horrifying fact that she was becoming her mother, at her disappointment in her subpar hair - and slammed her locker door shut. At least the outfit she had tossed together after her shift was cute: dark jeans and a black top with fluttering sleeves that was just sheer enough to hint at what was underneath. 

She was due at One Hogan Place in 20 minutes.

Sonny had insisted that he owed her dinner. How many dinners had he made for her and the girls? Hundreds, it felt like. How many times had they sat around at bars together after cases? Too many to count. How many empty take-out boxes had they shared? A lifetime’s worth. But this, this was different.

This was a date.

Familiar with the DA’s office, Amanda hoped she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew there. She didn’t want to answer questions about why she was hanging out so late and she was too nervous for small talk. Most of all she didn’t want to have to lie, not tonight. Keeping her head down, she flitted up staircases and down hallways until she was in front of Sonny’s office. She pulled in a deep breath, reminded herself that this man had seen her at her very worst, so her flat hair wouldn’t be the end of the world, then gently knocked on the door. It was cracked open, so she waited a beat before she slipped inside.

Sonny was sitting at his desk, leaned over some paperwork. For the brief moment she was able to, she admired the stretch of his shoulders. When he heard her enter, he looked up. The smile that immediately tugged at his mouth when he met her eyes made Amanda’s heart squeeze in her chest out of overwhelming adoration. “Hi,” she exhaled, somehow both more and less anxious at the sight of him. 

“‘Manda, hey,” Sonny greeted her. He stood up and waved her further into his office, coming out from behind his desk. “Come in, come in.”

“You still working?”

He heaved a sigh, returning a file to its rightful cabinet before turning back to her. “It never ends.”

She perched herself on the edge of his desk as she so often did, setting her purse down on the surface beside her. “Hey, c’mere,” she said when she noticed something: his tie was crooked, collar rumpled, his hair out of place. He had probably had a long day. She reached out a hand to him, nose scrunched as she smiled. “Your tie, you… well, like my grandma used to tell me and Kim after a long day of school, when we’d come home all roughed up: ‘you look like you’ve been shot out of a cannon.’”

Another grin broke across his face as he took a step forward, then stood in front of her, still, obedient. Amanda could feel his warm gaze looking down at her while her manicured fingers reached up to adjust the knot of his tie. “Well, you look beautiful.”

She knew her cheeks were turning pink; God, she hated that. What happened to her poker face? Her eyes flickered up to meet his as her hands drifted up toward his collar. Then she was smiling like a lovestruck teenager, as if no man had ever complimented her before this exact moment. Maybe she just needed to hear it from the right one. “Thanks,” she murmured as she smoothed the fabric of his shirt. She didn’t try to fix his hair - she liked the little strand that had escaped its style.

Sonny was standing so close to her that his legs bumped hers, silently asking her to make room for him. So she did: she parted her knees so she could playfully trap him, lower limbs snaking around his tall figure until her feet hooked loosely around the other side. A huff of laughter escaped Sonny as she felt his warm palms slide up the sides of her thighs to find her waist. Through the thin fabric of her shirt she could feel his thumbs moving back and forth, back and forth, and Amanda suddenly no longer cared about their dinner reservations.

Amanda carefully set the heels of her palms back on the edge of the desk, fingertips dangling. Collarbone prominently displayed, she gave her head a languid shake to move her hair away from her face. She gazed up at Sonny, still caught between her legs, playing against her side. Anticipation was beginning to simmer in the pit of her stomach. “Anything else I can help you with, Counselor?” 

Desire had darkened Sonny’s features and now he appeared mischievous as his eyes flickered over her thighs, her chest, her mouth. “Ah…” he started to answer her, but then he leaned in and kissed her instead of completing his thought. There was nothing gentle or cautious about the way his lips found hers: it stole the air from her lungs and his mouth felt searing hot. Her hands lifted from the desk, one cradling his elbow, another reaching up to his jaw. She loved the prickly feeling of newly formed stubble on his face, a sharp contrast to the softness of his tongue. The long line of his body angled itself closer to hers, and as she leaned back, she felt him let out a rough exhale at the way their forms aligned. 

Amanda had sworn to herself that she would not fuck this up - whatever this was that she was doing with Sonny - by having sex with him too soon, but in that moment she was so dizzy with want that his incredibly nerdy desk blotter was looking hotter and hotter. The hand at his elbow dropped blindly to the shiny metal of his belt buckle. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she couldn’t help but toy with it even though she knew it was a bad idea for more than one reason.

“‘Manda…” Sonny growled her name against her mouth, half in a warning, half in encouragement. One of his hands had wandered up the front of her shirt to ghost over her breast, so whatever he was trying to get her to stop doing, he had rendered his own message ineffective. 

“I won’t,” she breathed against his lips insincerely, fingertips trailing down the line of his fly, teasing, testing, “we won’t…” 

“Mr. Carisi, sorry I’m so late. I’ve got those -“ The voice of a young girl accompanied by the office door swinging open broke them both violently from their heated reveries. They separated from one another like they had been electrocuted: Sonny launched himself backward into his file cabinet, appearing to slam his funny bone in the process. Amanda scrambled off of the desk and on to her two feet, loose paperwork flying, hastily wiping off her mouth with the back of her hand as she stood at attention. The girl looked to be in her early twenties, with unruly curly hair wearing an ill-fitting sweater, but most importantly her eyes were wide in complete confusion. A large manila folder hung from her fingers.

“Lindsey!” Sonny yelped, carding his fingers through his hair. “Lindsey, hi. Hey. I just, you can put those on my desk,” he went on, pointing to the space he and Amanda were just occupying. “Thank you.”

Lindsey cautiously, wordlessly, placed the folder where she was told, then stepped back toward the doorway.

“This is, uh… do you know Rollins? Amanda? Detective Rollins?” Sonny asked Lindsey awkwardly, unnecessarily. His eyes shifted over to Amanda as he explained, “Lindsey is a law school intern here.”

“Nice to meet you,” Amanda offered, arms crossed over her chest to indicate that she was not interested in prolonging this painful interaction.

“Nice to meet you,” the student echoed, tone hollow. Turning away from them both, she let her hand linger on the door handle as she asked, “should I close this?”

“Yeah, please,” Sonny mumbled before his intern disappeared into the hallway.

Alone again in the office, Amanda raised both of her eyebrows and shot him a pointed look.  “Real smooth, Carisi.” Her heart was still pounding against her ribcage, partly because they were almost caught, partly because she didn’t know how Sonny was going to handle something like this. He was so nervous about keeping secrets, whereas Amanda felt like her life had been a series of little untruths for as long as she could remember. She kept her arms crossed like she was protecting herself.

Sonny leaned back against the file cabinet as if he was deflating. After what seemed like forever, he let out an exhale, then reached out a hand to her. “So… how about that dinner?”

note - idk just a lil one shot xoxox

#amanda rollins #sonny carisi #rollisi #law and order svu #svu #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #amanda rollins x sonny carisi

[noelliza]

The Pursuit of Two Left Feet Ch 2 - Anderperry

Hey guys! Here‘s the final part of the fic. I hope you enjoy it! You can also read this on ao3 here.

Summary: Neil made the mistake of telling Charlie about his feelings for a certain poetic blonde, and in true Nuwanda fashion, he got up to some mischief. Now, stuck in a plan to sneak out of school to go to an underground swing dance club, Neil has to make the best of it and pray to God his father doesn’t find out. Hopefully, Neil will get something out of this excursion, perhaps the heart of the object of his affection. He believes it’s nothing more than a dream, a wish. However, Todd Anderson falling for Neil is more likely to happen than he thinks.

Part 1

~

Neil, Todd, you two ready for tonight?” Charlie asks, wiggling his eyebrows as he peeks his head into their room Friday morning.

“As ready as ever,” Neil says, the pit in his stomach growing at the reminder. He still doesn’t know what he’ll do if and when his father finds out.

Charlie pats the doorframe and winks at them before disappearing down the hall.

Neil turns to Todd who’s putting his sweater on, not phased by Charlie’s appearance. “This is not gonna go well,” Neil grumbles.

Todd laughs as the two grab their bags and decide to head down to breakfast.

The whole school day Neil’s thoughts are directed to the vision of sitting in Nolan’s office with his father, his life officially over. If this goes south, Neil’s father will never let him down for it. He wants to have faith in Charlie, but part of him struggles to. Charlie doesn’t care about getting in trouble, he wants to get kicked out. Neil just doesn’t think he’s really thinking this whole thing through.

During english, Neil notices that Mr. Keating shoots him a couple knowing looks, a flash of a smile that’s gone before Neil can process it. It makes him nervous, wondering if somehow he found out about their plan and therefore so did Nolan. Keating would never fink, but Charlie isn’t particularly great at keeping his mouth shut.

That night, Charlie grabs Neil’s suit and drags him to the bathroom,  shoving a hair comb and gel into his hands.

“Charlie, aren’t we making this a bit obvious if we’re getting ready in the bathrooms? Hager is gonna see us.”

“Relax, there’s no reason to hide. This is allowed,” Charlie says. “But I won’t be getting ready here, I have a new suit to give Todd, so we’ll be in my room. See ya!”

Before Neil can object and question his motive, Charlie is out of sight. Neil shakes his head and begins changing into the suit, trying to push back the looming anxiety of his father finding out about this scheme.

As he's combing his hair into place, he hears two pairs of feet barge into the bathroom, and in the reflection of the mirror is Charlie with Todd in tow.

“Perry! Lookin’ like a dreamboat!”

Neil nods in thanks before turning to Todd, whose mouth is open slightly, his eyes roaming up and down his body. “Um, you… you look… really nice,” Todd mutters with a gulp.

“Thank you, uh, so do you,” Neil replies distractedly, his eyes unable to focus on a single part of Todd as he takes in the sight of him. Todd looks incredible in his suit, and he’s surprised Charlie did such an amazing job dressing him. It fits him perfectly, as if it tailored to his exact measurements—he wouldn’t be surprised if that was intentional on Charlie’s part. The coat, tie and slacks are a rich navy blue with a white button up underneath, and the color makes his eyes gleam. His hair is slicked back with gel, revealing more of his face, his cheekbones appearing more prominent. It makes him look more open, soft, and Neil is completely stunned. He’s always thought Todd is handsome, but right now he’s completely mesmerizing.

“Earth to Neil?” Charlie calls, waving a hand in his face. Neil blinks rapidly and clears his throat. “Hey, your bow tie’s crooked. Todd, fix it for him, yeah? I’ll be right back,” he says, giving Todd’s shoulder a firm pat before swaggering over to Meeks who’s combing his hair at the other side of the bathroom.

“Uh, sure,” Todd stammers a beat late, his eyes darting around nervously. He steps up to Neil, reaching out with slight hesitation. Neil holds in a breath as he adjusts the tie back into place. He inadvertently stares at Todd's focused face, tempted to press a soft kiss to his now exposed forehead.

“Alright, let's head out!” Charlie shouts, motioning for them to head out into the hall. Todd pulls back, ducking his head and walking out of the bathroom in one swift motion. Neil sighs, turning his head and catching Charlie’s knowing gaze as he heads towards him. He throws an arm around Neil’s shoulder and leads him out.

Together, the boys make their way outside into the cold night, all of them chattering excitedly. Awaiting them, leaning against his car looking ready for a night out, is Mr. Keating.

Neil gapes. “Charlie, how did you…”

“Amazing, right?” Charlie says proudly, stalking off to the car.

“Hello boys, you all look fetching. Ready?” Mr. Keating greets the noisy bunch, a wide grin on his face as they approach him.

Before Neil can even say anything, he’s being shoved into the backseat, smushed between Todd and Charlie in the third row. Knox lays himself across the boys, his face right in front of Charlie’s.

“I’m liking this view,” Charlie smirks.

Knox rolls his eyes, slapping Charlie’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Wait, Captain, are you coming with us to the club?” Pitts asks as he slides into the second row after Meeks, closing the door.

“Oh no,” Keating chuckles, turning the car on. “I’m much too old for a hullabaloo. Don’t sweat it, this old man has plans of his own with a special lady tonight.”

The boys all holler and whistle, making Keating flush in embarrassment. “Yes, yes, your teacher has a real life too, I know it’s surprising. Let’s get rolling!” He calls, putting the car in motion.

“Captain, how did the school allow this?” Neil can’t help asking. Charlie gives him a look, but he ignores it.

“Well, they think we’re off to see an invigorating show about the life and work of William Shakespeare. As illuminating as I imagine it would be, that is not on the itinerary for you boys tonight. You’re off to a much more exciting endeavor filled with music, dancing, and a bit of romance,” he says, and Neil swears Keating meets his eyes through the rear view mirror. He looks away hastily.

“Aww, that actually sounded pretty interesting…” Cameron mutters, trailing off forlornly and glancing out the window.

Charlie elbows Neil in the ribs to make a point, and he makes an effort to hold in a groan. “We can drop you off there if you’d like Cameron?” Charlie smirks.

Neil returns the elbow in reprimand and Charlie squawks indignantly. “We can all go see that another time. I’m sure it’s quite interesting,” he says, sending Charlie a glare that he responds to with sticking his tongue out childishly. Knox snorts, resulting in a jab in the ribs courtesy of Charlie.

“Good idea,” Cameron says, his face lighting up. “You know, something  interesting about Shakespeare is that there was a seven year period between 1585 and 1592 where no one knew—”

“I’m going to claw my ears out before the end of this car ride and you’ll be next,” Charlie whispers aggravatedly in Neil’s ear.

“You’ll forget that as soon as we get there and you spot someone attractive,” Neil says wryly.

Charlie leans back, taking a deep breath with a startling, fierce look in his eye. Oh God…

“Thou doth thinketh I'm a predictable young squire? I willith kick thy bosom!” Charlie pronounces, sticking his finger in the air. Knox rolls his eyes.

“Charlie, a bosom is a woman’s chest,” Neil chuckles.

“Thine ears will suffer great of mine Shakespearean drivel until a most suffering death graces itself upon thee when mine fist meetseth thy cheek,” he says, folding his hand into a tight fist.

“I feel like you speak Shakespeare a bit too well for you to hate it as much as you say you do,” Knox prods with a crooked smile.

Charlie turns to Knox, leaning into his face. “Thou wilist meet a fate much alike if thou speaketh onward.”

“Bite me, nerd,” Knox grins.

In a blink, Charlie attacks Knox with his fingers, tickling his armpits and ribcage fervently as he cackles wickedly. Knox yelps and squirms fiercely, kicking his legs erratically, his arms flailing.

“Boy, boys, I’m all for a bit of roughhousing but please settle down until we get there,” Mr. Keating cuts in.

Charlie lets off, allowing Knox to catch his breath, and they both call back a low ‘yes, Captain.’ Neil feels Todd’s quiet laughs beside him, the breath hot beside his ear. He tries not to shiver at the sensation by focusing on the road ahead. They pass by trees lining both sides of the street, and in the distance he can see the beginnings of the town. As they proceed, he can make out the buildings, growing larger with each passing second. The illuminating signs on the buildings shine high above the people walking merrily down the sidewalk, contrasting the subdued ambience of their school. Neil thrums in excitement, and he tries to stay hopeful, pushing down the looming anxiety that this will all suddenly go wrong.

“I-I guess Charlie was right. This is working out.”

Neil looks at Todd, an amused smile gracing his face. “Yes, for now. Though any minute I anticipate something to blow up,” Neil jokes, knowing Charlie can hear him.

“Hey now, we’re off to fill our minds with the knowledge of the legendary William Shakespeare. If anything, Nolan is happy that a select few of Keating’s students seek such a riveting educational opportunity,” Charlie says in his most dramatic tone, and Knox sends him an exasperated look.

“Right.” Neil scoffs, earning poke on the cheek. Neil responds with a quick pinch on Charlie’s thigh, eliciting a yelp from him. Knox cackles as Charlie attempts to attack back with jabs to his arm and ribs, Neil giving a harder pinch on his arm. Before he can continue the attack, a hand wraps around his wrist, stopping his movement.

“I- we can’t until we get there. Captain’s orders,“ Todd says, flushing.

“It’s alright, trouble is what I live for,” Charlie says though he lets off, leaning over the seat to pull Meek’s hair. “Right Meeks?”

Neil hasn’t moved, his brain still frozen at Todd’s touch. “I- right.” Neil laughs faintly. He shakes his head and pulls his hand into his lap, ignoring the looks he’s getting from Charlie and Knox.

Neil stays silent the rest of the car ride, tuning out everyone’s voices around him. He’s fighting to ignore the feel of Todd’s leg pressed against his, the slight shake of his leg as he bounces it anxiously, the sight of his fingers tapping on his leg in repeated patterns. It’s also impossible to forget the feel of Todd’s hand circling his arm, his touch soft, almost like a caress. Neil aches to place his hand in Todd’s lap and let him hold it how he wants, yearning to feel his palm against his skin, perhaps in his own hand, once again.

Eventually, Keating pulls over in front of a lit up, cozy diner, with a neon sign hanging up titled “Leggy’s Breakfast Town.” Next to it is a smaller sign that reads, “Open 24 hours.”

"Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow,” Mr. Keating says as the boys all climb out of the car.

“Romeo and Juliet!” Knox calls back proudly, closing the door once he steps onto the pavement.

“You got it Mr. Overstreet! Have fun!” Mr. Keating drives off, waving at them through the window before disappearing down the street.

Suddenly, Neil hears a car door open. He turns to see a green car parked up ahead, and stepping out of it is Chris in a flowy, emerald dress reaching her knees, fit slim on her waist. When Knox catches sight of her, he stares, drooling.

“Hey Knox,” Chris says with a radiant smile as she walks over to the group, her heels clicking on the sidewalk with each step.

“Chris… wow, you look…” he stumbles.

“Knox, save it for the club, come on buddy,” Charlie cuts in, clapping his shoulder and steering him inside. The other boys and Chris all tumble into the diner, following Charlie and Knox into the diner. The place is packed, filled with loud families and couples, eating burgers and dipping their fries in milkshakes, so no one bats an eye as the group crowds in the entrance.

Charlie stops and looks around before spotting a waiter cleaning behind the counter. He approaches the counter and leans over, resting his elbows on the surface with his famous Charlie smirk in place. “Hello, we’re here about your duck special,” he says in a low yet overly casual tone.

The waiter, a long haired boy looking about their age, holds Charlie’s gaze for a moment before nodding. “Yes, right this way,” he says, walking toward a long hallway. Neil glances at Todd who looks just as confused as he does before they walk after them. They reach a door that opens to a flight of dark, descending stairs, and the waiter leads them down, instructing the last person to close the door behind them.

“Isn’t it a bit noticeable when they take a bunch of teenagers to the back room that they’re not here for dinner?” Neil whispers furiously in Charlie’s ear after catching up to him.

“Relax, everyone here knows about the club, but no one says anything about it. They make major dough, so no one complains. The customers get good food, and the city makes capital. It’s a win win.”

Neil shakes his head as they reach the bottom, and the waiter opens the door, revealing a huge, bright room buzzing with life. It’s packed with people dressed in their most fancy attire—women in stunning, flowy dresses and men wearing fine suits. He sees numerous couples dancing across the expansive dance floor and others chatting away with cocktails in hand and wide smiles on their faces. Neil stares in awe, taking in the sight, unable to fathom that he’s standing here right now. He’s half expecting his father to appear any moment to shut down the place, ready to drag Neil home and give him the reprimand of his life. Abruptly, he feels Charlie pat his shoulder, which brings him back to himself.

“Alright mates, I’ve got some ladies to charm and men to woo, enjoy yourselves,” he says to the group with a wink before disappearing into the fray.

Neil stands there dumbly as the other boys start wandering off into the room. Since when does Charlie say ‘mates’? he wonders bemusedly. He hears someone clear their throat beside him and he turns to see Todd still standing there, looking at him with a nervous but expectant expression. A flash of panic shoots through him. This is it, the moment he’s been dreading and waiting for this entire week. He opens his mouth, the words on his lips, and panics.

“So… a drink?” Neil suggests, hating himself.

“I- uh, yeah sure. I’ll come with you..?”

“No, no. I’ll go. Find us a table?”

“Yeah sure,” he says, looking almost disappointed.

At that, Neil flees to the bar to get away from Todd, his heart crying more the further he goes. As he approaches, he schools his features into a more mature, serious look and straightens his posture. He leans over the counter until the bar man catches sight of him.

“I’ll have your strongest, please, and something sweet,” he says hastily as the bar man walks over. He frowns slightly, but just nods. “You got it.”

When he turns around, Neil releases a long breath, slouching over the bar. He’s such a fucking coward. Charlie put too much faith in him, there’s no way he can do this. Todd is just going to reject him and that’ll be the end of their friendship. He can’t afford to lose it.

Soon, the bar man returns with the drinks before turning to another customer. Neil grabs them and turns around, taking a step away from the bar to scan for Todd. He walks listlessly as he looks, but stumbles when he catches Todd on the dance floor with some random guy.

Suddenly, he collides into someone’s chest, and he returns his gaze in front of him to see his drinks spill right onto a man’s shirt, staining the white button up red. Neil pales in horror. “Oh my— I’m so sorry, I—”

“No! Don’t worry about it, nothing I can’t get out later,” the man says, sending Neil a reassuring smile. Neil’s face heats up at the sight—he’s quite attractive. He’s tall and lean with golden hair and a charming smile. His eyes are a blinding blue, shining in amusement.

“Want this one? I have an extra. They’re not the best here, but they sure do the trick,” he says, holding out a small, dark colored drink.

“Sure, thanks,” Neil says, putting his emptied drinks onto the bar with a grimace and accepting the glass. He takes a quick sip and has to withhold a cough at the strength of the drink, not wanting to embarrass himself.

“What are you doing on your own? Come here with anyone? Surely you didn’t have two drinks for yourself,” he chuckles softly.

“Yeah, my friends,” he says solemnly, his eyes glued to Todd across the room, having a grand old time with some stranger.

“Where are they?” he asks.

Neil watches dolefully as Todd is swung around the dance floor, his smile bright, blinding. He feels the man follow his gaze and soon he makes a noise of realization.

“Ah, I get it. You like him?”

Neil flushes, almost choking on his drink. “Wha— um… it’s…”

“No judgement, that charming fella over there is my boyfriend,” he says, pointing to the far corner of the dance floor where he’s dancing with a woman around his age, tall and gorgeous. They’re moving together like water, twirling around the floor without missing a single beat. It’s incredible. “Plus, this place is meant for people like us, so don’t sweat it,” the man adds.

People like us, Neil repeats internally. He supposes the man’s not wrong. Neil has come to accept that he isn't like most other boys his age, especially not the kind his father wants him to be. He relents with a sigh. “Well, yeah, fine. I do. Like him, that is.”

The man hums understandingly, taking a swig of his drink. “Does he know it?”

Neil shakes his head. “No, it’d ruin… everything.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well… I don’t think he’s…” Neil trails off, a part of him still terrified of saying the word.

The man laughs, which makes Neil frown. “I’ve been there too. I get that it’s scary, risking your friendship like that. But that’s the thing about life, sometimes it’s worth taking that leap. What’s that one saying… carpa dem…”

“Carpe diem,” Neil corrects, hiding a smile.

He snaps his fingers. “Yes! Carpe diem.”

Neil huffs a laugh at the irony. “Yeah, I try to live by that every day, actually.”

“Well, then why is this any different?”

“Because… he’s the most important person in my life. If I lost him…” Neil swallows, looking away.

“I see,” he says, taking a breath. “Well, I’m not gonna sit here and force you to do anything, this is your life. But take it from someone who was in your shoes once. If he’s meant to be in your life, telling him won’t ruin a thing. If not, then it means there’s someone else out there who’s meant for you.”

Neil simply nods. This man doesn’t understand that no one could ever replace Todd, but he doesn’t bother explaining it. “Yeah, well my father wouldn’t be pleased by this either.”

“Not accepting?”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Neil says. “He’s trying to take hold of my entire life, insisting I have to go to Harvard, go to medical school and become a doctor.”

The man sighs sympathetically. “That’s a tough situation, what do you want to do instead?”

“Act, but that’s never going to happen,” he snorts.

“You know, my boyfriend said the same thing when he was around your age.”

Neil whips his head towards him in shock. “Really? He’s an actor?”

“Yeah, and he loved it. Now, he owns a small, local theater for children and teens in New York.

“That’s amazing,” Neil breathes.

“It is, I’m proud of him,” he says with a fond smile.

A part of Neil wonders if that future is possible for him, that despite everything, he has a shot. But even that doesn't overpower the voice in his head telling him it’s impossible, so he moves on from the thought. “What do you do?” Neil asks, taking a large sip of his drink, ignoring the burning in his throat as he swallows.

“Nothing nearly as exciting. I’m a lawyer,” he laughs. Neil nods. “Do you like it?”

The man shrugs slightly with a smile. “I do now, but I didn’t at first. Too much paperwork and talking to a bunch of stuck up people in overpriced suits. But then I got a case where I was defending this girl who was getting abused by her boyfriend. We won the case, and when I saw her face, it reminded me why I wanted to do this in the first place, to help people. It’s cheesy, but true.

“That’s really great,” Neil says.

“Thanks. But just know I’m not saying that to make you feel bad for not wanting to be a doctor,” he clarifies.

“Oh, no of course, I get it,” he says, not offended. He understands that helping others that way is their calling, but in Neil’s heart he knows it's not meant for him.

“My mother wasn’t very accepting of my choice of career either. Growing up, she wanted me to take over the family business. We own a restaurant in town called “Leandro’s Italian Restaurant.” My grandfather opened it, and after he got old, he passed it onto my mom. But let me tell you, I’m the last person you want in the kitchen. I manage to burn anything I lay my eyes on. Andrew won’t let me lift a finger when making dinner,” he chuckles.

“But she let you pursue that career instead when you told her?”

“Yeah, but I know it’s only because it pays well,” he says regretfully. “Unfortunately, that’s not always the case. Andrew’s parents were horrified at the idea of him becoming an actor. He told me about how they fought all the time, his father insisting he needs to have a real career with a steady income, but my stubborn Andy refused, of course. He worked as much as he could in school, saving up his money. Once he graduated, he got a second job and worked day and night until he was able to support himself and move out. It took him a few years to get it together, but eventually he made it onto the stage. He told me it was gruesome in the beginning, but that he’s never regretted it for a second. Such an optimist he is,” he says admiringly.

Neil nods absently, completely absorbed in the story. It’s possible, a small, hopeful voice in his head says. But that was one person… what if he’s not so lucky?

“Alright, I’ve chatted your ear off enough,” the man says, breaking Neil out of his thoughts as he pats his shoulder. “Go out there and dance! You’re young, enjoy it!”

“Okay. Thank you though, Mister…?”

“Emerson. But call me G.”

“You like poetry?” Neil asks with a playful smile.

G laughs, throwing this head back. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who hasn’t asked me some version of that question. I do, but not Emerson, funny enough. I’m more into the beat poets like Gary Snyder. Some powerful words, I’ll say. You?”

“Nice, I prefer Whitman,” Neil smiles. “Thanks for the drink!” He says, swallowing the rest before placing the glass on the table.

“Of course, don’t go too crazy though! Enough of those and you’ll wake up in the alleyway next to the diner. Trust me, I’ve been there,” G says slyly.

Neil laughs with a nod, holding G’s gaze for a moment longer before striding to the dance floor in pursuit of Todd. He supposes there's truth to the phrase “liquid courage,” because with just a glass of alcohol in his system, he feels unstoppable. Carpe fucking diem.

He taps on his shoulder and Todd spins around, his face lighting up at the sight of Neil. “Neil, you’re here! Oh, I-I’m so glad. I missed you!” Todd shouts, clearly very drunk.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, not feeling sorry in the slightest, “but Todd… will you dance with me?”

The guy Todd was just dancing with gives him a nasty look, but doesn’t protest. “I- of course! I’ve been waiting all night for you to ask!” Todd beams, stumbling over to him.

“Well, here I am,” Neil laughs, taking in Todd’s smile.

“Y-you should try the drinks I had. They sucked b-but my anxiety, it went POOF!” He says, making an exploding gesture with his hand, swaying closer to Neil.

“I’m glad, but I’ll try it later. Come on,” he says, leading Todd gently to an open spot on the dance floor with a guiding hand on the small of his back.

Neil takes deep breaths, trying to control his nervousness. He may have learned ballroom dancing, but swing dancing is a foreign concept to him. He’s going to embarrass himself and Todd will laugh at him. He darts his eyes around, trying to see how the other couples are dancing. As he’s about to begin his attempt, Todd takes hold of his arms, leaning in close.

“Don’t worry,” Todd says, “I-I think I have the hang of it. Follow my lead.”

Neil gasps as Todd pulls him around, bouncing on his heels a bit unevenly. Neil copies his movements, trying to let his body feel the music. The pair are off beat to the music, but Neil doesn’t care. They could be tap dancing to an opera ballad and he would be over the moon, just happy to be dancing with Todd, holding his hand and moving around the space together.

At first, Neil fumbles a bit, tripping over his feet a few times and moving his limbs in awkward motions, but eventually, he starts getting into the groove. Todd still misses a few steps every so often, but he laughs it off and warmth spreads through Neil’s chest at the sound. He laughs breathlessly, boldly deciding to pick Todd up by his hips and swinging him around his body. Todd lets out a surprised gasp, giggling as Neil moves him through the air, holding on for dear life. Neil keeps a firm hand on his waist and places him back on his feet carefully. Once Todd finds his balance, he haphazardly reaches out for Neil’s hand again, losing his grip a couple times, and twirls him around, pulling him into his chest and spinning him back out again. Neil’s heart is soaring, and he can’t hear anything besides the music ringing in his ears and Todd’s unrestrained laughter.

They dance song after song, and Neil loses track of how long they’ve been there, moving under the flashing lights and through the bodies of the crowd, throwing one another into the air. Eventually, Todd leans close to his ear, clutching his shoulder to keep balance. “‘ve gotta go to the bathroom,” he mumbles, his words slurred and breathy.

“Oh, ok! Want me to come with…?”

Todd shakes his head smiling, placing his hand on Neil’s chest. “No, no, ‘m alright. I’ll be… right back,” he slurs.

“Alright, I’ll be at the bar. I’m gonna get another drink,” Neil says.

Todd nods, staring at him for a moment before stalking off the dance floor towards the bathroom. Neil breathes out, trying to settle his nerves down. Adrenaline is coursing through his body, and his heart is thumping out of his chest. Dancing with Todd is exhilarating, and Neil could do it for the rest of his life—even as an old man in a wheelchair.

He walks off, ready to drown himself in liquor until he can gather enough courage to tell Todd how he really feels. But he’s quickly intercepted by Charlie who jumps in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Having a good time?” He asks smugly.

“Yes!” Neil shouts. “I feel… I feel so alive!”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Charlie cheers. “Next thing you know you’ll be getting at it like bunnies in the bathroom stall,” he winks.

Neil tries not to choke on air as he stares at Charlie, his eyes wide. “Charlie, stop! But it doesn’t matter, Todd was dancing with someone earlier. I don’t think he… he can’t.”

Charlie rolls his eyes, letting out an overly exasperated sigh as if Neil is out of his mind (which he isn’t). “Oh sit on it Neil, did you miss the way he looked at you? He looks like a lovesick puppy.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Neil mutters.

“Not now no, if anything I’m understating it. Go over there and swap some spit with him before I do it myself.”

“Charlie! It’s- you don’t understand. He’s my best friend, besides you of course. We… it’s not like that,” Neil stresses.

Charlie doesn’t look the least bit swayed by his words, giving him a wry look. “Neil, Todd only wants to dance with you. The only reason he was with that chump was because I made him. I know how possessive you can get.”

“Nuwanda…”

“Hey, I needed something to push him onto the dance floor, loosen up a bit, you’re welcome. Later, lover boy!” Charlie hurries off into the crowd, and Neil sighs. Of course Charlie would meddle like that.

Neil heads to the bar, already plotting Charlie’s murder when he spots Cameron leaning against the counter talking to a young, gorgeous blonde woman.

“Hey Cameron! Who’s this?” He asks as he approaches them, clapping his shoulder and turning to the woman with a smile.

“Neil! This is Caroline, she goes to Ridgewood,” Cameron says. He looks happier than Neil has ever seen him.

“Neil, nice to meet you! Cameron’s such a charmer isn’t he? I could just drown in those freckles,” she says dreamily, kissing his cheek.

Neil refrains from laughing as Cameron’s face turns beat red, more fiery than his hair. “I’m glad you’re having a good time!”

“The best! Thanks for inviting me, I know Charlie didn’t really want to,” he says.

“Oh, it’s nothing, you know how Charlie can be, he doesn’t really mean it,” Neil says with a nervous laugh, feeling guilty at how transparent Charlie’s disdain has been. He doesn’t think Cameron deserves it.

“If you say so, but you’re cool, Neil. So thanks,” Cameron says gratefully.

Neil gives a quick nod, feeling a bit embarrassed at the praise. “Course, don’t mention it. Anyway, Caroline, it was lovely to meet you, but I’ve gotta get a drink before my… friend returns from the bathroom.”

“Ooh, Todd?” Cameron ribs, elbowing him and raising his eyebrows with a smirk.

“Uh, yeah,” he stammers. Neil turns to the bar man walking in their direction as a distraction from this topic. “Excuse me, can I have—“

“OH!” Cameron lights up with a thought, cutting him off. “Get a pina colada, they’re really good!”

“You might also like a dirty martini!” Caroline chimes in, winking at him.

Neil blinks and looks back at the waiter who’s waiting patiently. “I’ll take both,” he says. The bartender nods and promptly grabs a glass and a vodka bottle.

Not even a moment later, Cameron and Caroline start making out passionately next to him. Neil turns away awkwardly, hoping that Todd comes back from the bathroom soon. He looks at the dance floor and spots Knox and Chris together, laughing as Knox spins her in the air. Off to the side, he notices Meeks and Pitts dancing to the music at their own speed, away from the throng. Charlie, however, is nowhere to be seen, which is never a good thing.

After what feels like an eternity, the bartender slides his drinks across the bar, and Neil hands him a few dollar bills. “Keep the change,” he says quickly and turns away from the bar, desperate to get away from their slobbering and moaning. As soon as he takes a step, he crashes into someone, once again spilling the drinks he was just holding. He refrains from cursing, almost choking on air when he recognizes the victim of his clumsiness as G’s boyfriend.

“Oh, hey, you alright bud?” He asks, his voice deep and warm. He’s tall with curly, brown hair gelled back, and his smile is friendly, his green eyes soft and benevolent. The drinks drip down his cream colored suit, the large stains prominent.

Neil lets out a long breath and closes his eyes. “I’m so sorry, I’m not having the best luck with carrying drinks tonight.”

“No it’s alright, now my boyfriend and I can have matching, stained shirts,” he says with a hearty laugh. Normally, Neil would feel like he’s being made fun of, but from his sincere expression, it comes off lighthearted.

“Yeah, that was me…”

His eyes widen in recognition. “Oh! He mentioned you. Neil, right? Potentially an Armstrong?”

“Yes, I’m Neil, but no, unfortunately not related,” he says with an embarrassed laugh.

“Damn, that’s too bad. I’m Andrew McDorman,” he says, holding out his hand. Neil grips it, Andrew’s handshake solid and firm. “Giovanni told me you act!”

“Well… I’d like to, yes. But, my father wants me to become a doctor,” he says, pausing as a thought hits him. “And he told me he goes by G.”

He laughs. “Yeah of course he did. He’s been trying to sound younger now, but I refuse to call him that. He’ll always be my Giovanni, even if I always butcher the pronunciation, according to him,” he says with a sappy expression. Neil can tell they both truly love each other, and it makes him ache to have this with Todd, speaking of one another fondly, others sensing how close the two of them are.

“And about your father,” he adds, going back to the original topic, “mine wanted me to become a dentist. It’s not easy, I know. You feel like you’re stuck, that there’s nowhere to go. But trust me, Neil, there is.”

“Thanks, I’m glad you were able to pursue your dreams, but I’m not sure if I can…”

Andrew sighs with a smile. “Okay, you got me”eks planning that” an idea has dawned on him. “Tell you what, you wanna follow your own path, get away from your shitty father? Our door is always open, alright? I know, I know, stranger danger, but the offer is there. Actors gotta support each other, and I wanna be able to help out someone who’s in the same situation I was,” he says earnestly, the unspoken homosexuals falling between them.

Neil stands there completely speechless, his mind whirling in a million directions. This sounds too good to be true, because there’s no way he could escape his father’s grasp. He’d track him down, make him come home and ensure he makes it to medical school. But… what if…?

“No pressure kid. Here, let me replace those drinks. On me,” he offers kindly before Neil is able to respond. He’s left with his mouth hanging open as the man passes him, walking up to the bar to order.

“Neil!”

Neil turns to see Todd walking towards him, and his distress melts away as his eyes lay on Todd. His hair is slightly disarrayed, a few hairs drooping down his forehead, his cheeks still red from the dancing. He’s absolutely perfect. “There you are,” he says breathlessly.

“Hey, there was a guy in there who said I looked like uhh Nikola Tesla,” he giggles.

“Huh, not a bad guy to be compared to I guess,” Neil says, amused.

“Here we are!” Andrew says, holding out the drinks.

“Oh! Pina colada, I had one earlier and it was great!” Todd shouts gleefully, taking the glass and sucking the drink down, practically inhaling it.

“Ah, is this your boyfriend?” Andrew asks, directing the question to Neil, handing him his martini.

“N-no I wish,” Todd answers, swallowing his drink before returning to it promptly, the glass already halfway empty.

“I- he’s had a lot to drink…” Neil says, taking a big gulp of his drink.

Andrew gives him a knowing look. “Don’t fret, I’ve been there,” he says quietly so only Neil can hear him. “Alright cool cats, I gotta scoot, have fun and stay safe!” Andrew says to the pair, giving them both a wide grin before walking off.

As Neil turns to Todd, getting the nerve to ask him to dance again, a voice booms through the room.

“All the lovers to the dance floor! For this next song, we’re going to slow things down a bit. This is a special request from a man who goes by the name Nuwanda, and this is dedicated to Neil and Todd,” the singer announces.

Neil stares at the stage, noticing Charlie standing nearby with a shiteating grin. Charlie catches his eye and winks. Bastard.

“Um, Neil?” Todd asks, his voice cracking.

Neil turns to him and stops breathing at the look on Todd’s face. His eyes are wide, appearing anxious but hopeful, like he’s placing his heart in the palm of Neil’s hand for safe keeping. Neil hopes to God it doesn’t slip from his grasp.

“Yes?” He says, almost in a whisper.

Todd slowly reaches his hand out, palm up. “W-will you dance with me?”

A smile grows on his face. “Always.” Neil accepts his hand, placing his glass down on the table beside him, and allows Todd to walk him to the dance floor. He can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or his nerves, but Neil can’t feel the floor beneath his feet as he moves through the crowd, almost like he’s floating.

When I fall in love it will be forever

Todd positions them both, placing a gentle hand on Neil’s back. His face heats up inadvertently at the touch, his back tingling at the sensation. Todd looks at him, his eyes steady. “I’ll lead,” he says.

Or I'll never fall in love

Neil smiles in response, and it doesn’t wane even the slightest as Todd stamps right on his toes. Neil breaks out in a laugh, resting his forehead on Todd’s shoulder. Todd doesn’t move or make a sound, so Neil pulls back and gives him a reassuring smile. “It’s ok,” he says softly.

In a restless world like this is

Todd looks down at his feet self-consciously and Neil tilts his head back up with a finger under his chin. “Don’t worry about it, really.”

Love is ended before it's begun

Todd takes a hesitant step, breathing out as he manages to avoid Neil’s foot. Slowly, he takes another, and another, and Neil follows, feeling gratified that Todd is so dedicated to this.

And too many moonlight kisses

Neil revels in the feel of Todd’s hand in his own, his fingers wrapped around it firmly as they step around. Until this moment, Neil hasn’t realized how desperately he needs Todd in his life. How he wants to wake up beside him in the morning, make him breakfast in bed, go on walks with him through a park full of birds and laughing children, listen to him read poetry as they sit by a toasty fire. These images flood his mind, and he’s overwhelmed by how much he craves for this to become reality.

Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun

Neil gazes into those soft, blue eyes, never wanting to escape their grasp ever again. As they stare at one another, drowning in each other, their movements slow. Neil is too distracted by the sight to acknowledge it. His body is moving on his own accord, leaning in to take in his face, the scent of strong cologne he assumes Charlie sprayed all over him.

When I give my heart it will be completely

“Todd—”

In a blink, Todd grabs both sides of his face and in a singular movement he crashes their lips together, cutting him off with a bruising kiss. Neil doesn’t react at first, completely stunned by the feel of Todd’s lips. He quickly comes back to himself, sliding his hands behind Todd’s neck, cradling it as he moves his lips, taking him in. Todd places a hand on his cheek, which sends a shiver down his neck. After a moment, they slow, and Neil gradually pulls back to look at him, aware that he’s now plunged in the water, completely head over heels for this boy.

Or I'll never give my heart

“Todd,” he breathes.

A flash of worry crosses Todd’s eyes. “Y-yeah?”

Neil stares at him before speaking. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

“O-oh sorry you can—”

“Todd,” he laughs fondly.

And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too

Before Todd starts to ramble, Neil shuts him up with another kiss, slotting his lips between his with a hmph. This one is softer, more tender than the last, yet just as remarkable. He pours out every emotion he can into the kiss, wanting Todd to understand how he loves every inch, every quirk, every fiber of his being.

Is when I'll fall in love with you

As the last note rings through the room, Neil hears a sudden whoop. He turns, watching in horror as Charlie barrels towards them in glee. “Fucking finally you nimrods!” He shouts, giving Neil a quick noogie. “I thought I was gonna have to smash your faces together myself.”

Neil can’t hold back a grin as he rolls his eyes. “Get out of here, you’re kind of ruining the moment, you know,” he teases.

“That was the most romantic kiss I’ve ever seen!” Charlie exclaims, completely missing the hint, or purposefully ignoring it. “Knox wishes he could be on that level.”

“Charlie, I heard that!” Knox calls, pacing over to them.

“That’s my queue to leave, see you!” Charlie says, dashing away as Knox chases after him.

Neil laughs and looks back at Todd who’s smiling dazedly at him. He swipes his thumb across Todd’s cheek, and leans in for a quick kiss. “Sorry, I just can’t help it now.”

Todd blinks. “D-don’t apologize for that. Ever,” he breathes.

“Okay,” Neil says, recapturing his lips in a searing kiss. He doesn’t care that they’re surrounded by a bunch of strangers, any care in the world is lost among the feel of Todd’s lips between his own. After a moment, Todd pulls back, his eyes taking in every feature of Neil’s face.

“What is it?” Neil asks, smiling. He hears the lively music pick up again, everyone dancing around them, but he doesn’t move.

“I- nothing I… just never thought you’d…”

“I thought the same about you,” Neil admits.

“But.. how?” He asks, astonished. “Y-you’re… you’re literally perfect, Neil.”

Neil shakes his head. “No, I’m far from it. But Todd, you’re incredible. You’re better than any dream I could ever fathom, you’re single handedly the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You always listen when I rattle nonsense to you as if every word I say is meaningful, you’re there for me on my low days, ready with an open ear and a shoulder to lay on, you write the most outstanding poetry known to man. How could I not be completely in love with you?”

Todd gapes at him, disbelieving. “You… you love me?”

Neil laughs. “Of course, dummy,” he says affectionately.

“I- I do too. Love you. I… I love you,” Todd says.

An overwhelming sense of joy floods through him, and without thinking, Neil wraps his arms around Todd’s waist and picks him up, spinning him around as he shouts in elation. Soon, Neil sets him back down and brings him into a tight embrace, nuzzling into his neck. Todd returns it, sliding his arms around his back, holding him close.

Suddenly, someone bumps into Todd’s back as they dance, shouting a quick apology as they pass, and it seems to send them both back into reality. They pull back and glance around, watching as everyone is jiving to the upbeat music. Neil looks back at Todd who returns his gaze and they break out into a fit of laughter, making their way over to a table.

They collapse into some seats, breathing heavily. Neil is relieved to have a break; he’s starting to come back down from his rush of energy, and his eyelids are getting heavy.

“Neil,” Todd says, shaking his shoulder lightly.

He lifts his head and looks at him questioningly.

“Don’t fall asleep yet, wait until we get in the car.”

Neil makes a noise of complaint. “I’m tired. Be my pillow, Todd?” He asks, leaning his head over onto Todd’s shoulder.

Todd sighs defeatedly, raising a hand to card through Neil’s hair. They stay like that for a few minutes, relaxed and at ease, until Charlie approaches their table.

“Seems it's a general consensus that it’s time to go,” Charlie says, plopping into the seat across from them and taking a swig from his drink. “The others are starting to get tired too. They wanna grab a bite upstairs before Keating comes. What do you say?”

Neil lifts his head, sitting up in his chair. “Sure, Todd?” He nods in agreement.

“Alright, perfect. I’ll go grab the others, be back in a flash,” he says, darting away.

“Tell Charlie to wait up, I got to say bye to some people first.”

Todd’s eyebrows raise in remembrance. “Oh, that man who gave us the drinks?”

“Yeah, and his boyfriend.”

“O-okay I’ll tell him,” Todd says.

Neil leans over and kisses his cheek before walking off in search of G and Andrew. He goes toward the bar first and doesn’t see them, so he looks through the crowd of the dance floor. After a few seconds, he feels a hand clap his shoulder. Neil whips around.

“Hey kid! How you doing? I saw you and that boy earlier, I’m proud of you,” G says. “And you’ve got one hell of a friend to request a song for you two like that.”

“Yeah, that was more romantic than our first kiss,” Andrew adds, sliding an arm behind G’s back. “You’re gonna have to step up your game.”

“Hey, don't you forget my proposal, I spent weeks planning that!”

Andrew sighs with a smile. “Okay, you got me.”

G gives him a quick peck before returning his attention to Neil.

“I’m- we’re great. I’m… really happy,” Neil says, beaming. “And yeah, Charlie is not one to be subtle about anything.”

The couple laugh. “Well, I’m glad it worked out,” G says sincerely.

As Neil nods in thanks, Andrew gasps in realization. “Give me your hand,” he requests.

Neil complies, pulling back his sleeve. Andrew pulls a pen out of his pocket and writes on the back of his hand. Once he’s done he releases his arm and caps the pen. “In case of anything, don’t hesitate to call us. If things don’t bode well with your father, we’ll be here for you, okay? Any hour of any day. I never really sleep anyway,” Andrew says with a crooked smile.

Neil looks down at the phone number written on his hand, and holds in the tears welling up in his eyes. “Thank you,” he croaks, keeping his eyes down and wiping them surreptitiously.

“Any time,” G says, a smile in his voice.

Finally he looks up at them both, feeling fiercely grateful for them—despite the unideal introduction of Neil ruining their clothes.

“My friends and I are heading up to the diner before we leave. But it was great to meet you both. Sorry again for spilling the drinks on you. Both of you,” he says, wincing as he peers at their stained outfits.

“Oh, don’t even stress it. It’s a good thing you did now, isn’t it?”

Neil laughs. “I suppose it is.”

There’s a beat of silence between them before they bid each other good night, Neil returning to his table. Todd looks up at him as he approaches. “They’re all waiting by the door. Ready?” Todd asks, standing from his seat.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something first,” Neil says, his heart pounding out of his chest.

Todd blinks. “Okay,” he says, anxiety creeping into his features. Neil reaches out and strokes his cheek in reassurance.

“I just wanted to know… now that we’ve… you know, told each other how we feel… where are we?”

Todd’s eyes widen in understanding. “Um, I mean what can two guys be to each other?” He asks.

“Boyfriends?” Neil tries, unable to breath.

Todd’s face lights up, and it sends a flood of relief over Neil. “Uh, Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

Todd nods, beaming, and Neil can’t resist leaning over to give his nose a quick peck. He never thought this would ever be possible, and yet here he is, able to call Todd his boyfriend. With Todd by his side, he’s willing to take anything his father tries to throw at him.

Neil slots their fingers together and the pair walk over to the other poets who are standing by the door. Upon seeing them, Charlie grins. “The new lovely couple has arrived! Let’s go!”

The boys make their way up to the diner and slide into a booth, ready for a late dinner before Mr. Keating arrives to pick them up. Todd seats himself beside Neil, and he wraps an arm around his shoulder, kissing Todd’s forehead.

“Alright, as happy as I am that you two finally got your act together, please don’t be necking each other and being all lovey dovey in front of me. I don’t need it getting in my food,” Charlie says.

“No promises,” Todd says.

Neil laughs breathlessly, at Todd’s bold comment and the way Charlie gapes, shellshocked. “Yeah, don’t be a hypocrite. If you had someone you’d be slobbering all over them any second you could.”

“I guess you’re not wrong there, but it makes me wish I did.” Charlie winks. Neil and Todd grimace, and at that the subject is dropped.

“So Cameron, who was that girl I saw you all cozy with?” Meeks asks, his eyebrows raised suggestively.

“Cameron was with a girl?” Charlie asks, nonplused. “Did someone give you drugs, Meeks? You might have been hallucinating.”

“No, I saw. They were locking lips,” Neil adds.

“No way!” Charlie calls, his eyes blown wide.

Cameron blushes, staring down at the table, “Yeah, I did. I saw her at the bar and we started talking. She’s… great.”

Knox leans over and high fives him with a proud smile as Charlie chokes on air. Once he recovers, he shakes his head and huffs a laugh. “Well… atta boy Cameron!” Charlie hollers, smacking his back.

Cameron looks at him for a moment before smiling back. “Thanks, Charlie.”

Soon, the food arrives and after much more rowdy laughter and chatter, the boys pile back into Keating’s car.

“Enjoy yourselves boys?”

The boys all agree and over the rest, Charlie shouts, “Hell yeah!”

“Thank you for your exuberance, Mr. Dalton,” Keating deadpans, chuckling.

“Enjoy your date, Captain?” Pitts asks.

“Yes, thank you,” he smiles.

“What’d you do? Spend any cozy alone time together,” Charlie asks, grinning mischievously.

“If you’re insinuating what I think you are, then I am not at liberty to discuss that with my students. However, we went for a nice dinner and afterwards we walked along a nearby lake. They’re quite a lovely spot to bring your significant other, actually,” he says, and Neil catches his eyes in the rear view mirror. Neil’s face flushes and he looks away, unable to hold back a smile.

Multiple different conversations among the other boys pick up after that, but Neil stays quiet, taking time to enjoy the moment. A few minutes later, when Todd lays his head on his shoulder as he dozes to sleep and Charlie gives him a smug look, Neil feels truly grateful for his friends, Keating, and Todd. He looks down at the number scrawled on his hand and realizes that he’s no longer dreading the future. His future. It won’t be easy, but with Todd by his side, Neil can do anything. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

#dead poets society #anderperry #todd anderson #neil perry #todd and neil #dps fandom #dps #anderperry fic #dps fic #dps fanfiction

[lokis-army-77]

If You Please

Chapter ten

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5700

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: canon typical violence

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Masterlist

The next morning, after a late flight to the Austrian Alps the night before, we readied ourselves for the attack on HYDRA’s head base. I made sure my two guns were loaded and secured in their holsters. I did the same for my bo staff. Everyone had been keeping their distance from me since I had entered the meeting room yesterday. The only one who never really left my side was Steve. He didn’t hover around me like I was incapable, I was grateful for that, but he was always within an arm's reach. Right now he stood a few feet away putting things into the saddlebags of his bike. I walked over to him and leaned up against the bike without saying a word. He looked up and patted me on the shoulder then went back to what he was doing.

I reached my hand up to a small golden heart locket that was clasped around my neck. I fiddled with it mindlessly for a minute or two before I took it and pried it open. A small picture of Bucky in uniform was staring back at me from the right half and on the left was a picture of him with his eyes scrunched up as I gave him a small peck on his cheek, we were both drenched in water. I let out a small laugh, remembering the events of that day.

It was a very sunny October day in 1941, which had started like any other. Breakfast had been eaten and I had gotten ready for the day ahead. Steve had gone off doing God knows what. He never tells me where he’s going. Bucky was coming by after a while for a quote “ Very special date” he had planned. While I waited for him I cleaned the house a bit and read a few chapters of a book Bucky had given me to read called ‘The Hobbit. I had only agreed to read it if he read ‘Pride and Prejudice’, which was my favorite book, but this book was very interesting. I had just gotten to chapter 7 when a heavy knock rattled the front door. I sprung up and raced to the door. I swung it open and there stood Bucky in a pair of dark khaki slacks and a white button-up collared shirt. His hair was slicked back and he held out a single red tulip.

“Well, aren’t you all dressed up. I feel underdressed now.” I said grabbing at the fabric of the light blue pinafore dress.

“You look beautiful as always, Doll. Here, I picked this on the way here, it made me think of you.” He stepped up and gave me a kiss then handed me the flower.

“Thank you, Buck. Let me put this in a vase and then we can head out.” I turned to walk into the kitchen, Bucky right on my heels. There was a small vase already on the counter sitting by the sink, so I reached out for it, filled it with water, and gently placed the stem into it. I placed it on in the sunlight that hit the window sill. I turned around and reached over to my purse on the dining room table.

“Are you ready?” He asked, grabbing the apartment keys from the hook by the door.

“Let's go, I’m starving.” I grabbed his hand as we went out the door and waited for him to lock up. We walked down several blocks and finally came to a stop at my favorite small community Italian restaurant. We had been coming here since we were kids before mom had died. It held a special place in my heart, like everything that held her memory.

We ate and talked for an hour or two before leaving and just walking down the street. We came to one of the small parks scattered around close to the Brooklyn Bridge and stopped to take a seat on a bench.

“I know I tell you this all the time, but I love you so much,” Bucky let out.

“I love you too, Sweetheart.” I looked over at him. He was bouncing his left leg vigorously up and down, and he bit at his bottom lip nervously. “Is everything okay Buck?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, it’s more than fine actually, I just have to figure out how to say this.” He said then took a deep breath. I watched him curiously as he slipped off of the bench and onto one knee. When he started to reach into his pants pocket was when I realized what he was doing. “Doll, from the day Steve brought me home from school to meet you and your mom I knew I liked you, then that like grew into admiration, and quickly after that, it turned into love. The strongest love I have ever felt. I hope that you will allow me to experience this love for the rest of my life, and give me the greatest honor you could ever give by becoming my wife.” When he had finished he pulled a small golden heart locket attached to a tiny delicate chain from his closed hand. I let my hands snap up to my face before he could see me cry. All I could do was nod furiously, in fear that if I spoke now nothing would come out. He carefully pulled my hands from my face and peered into my eyes. He was giving me the biggest smile I had ever seen.

“Yes,” I croaked out finally. “I’ll marry you.” I wiped my tears off with the back of my hands and then held my hair up so he could fasten the necklace around my neck. When he had it secured his hands clasped around the back of my neck and head and I was pulled into the most heated yet loving kiss I had ever experienced.

That's when I felt a drop of something wet hit my forehead. Pulling away from the kiss, we both looked up into the sky. It had gotten cloudy suddenly and sprinkles of rain had started falling down steadily. I let out a hushed giggle before pitching myself up off the bench and helping Bucky back onto his feet.

“Come on, we need to find somewhere dry before it really starts pouring,” Bucky said, not even a second afterward, the bottom fell out and the rain came down in hard sheats.

“You were saying” I called out over the loud rain. He made a gesture to the sky to say ‘why now of all times, then he started running and pulling me along.

It didn’t take long for us to find shelter in a small photo booth. I was surprised to see one here, they were still so rare outside of Manhattan. We both stood in the small booth sopping wet and catching our breath.

“Bucky, do you have twenty-five cents?” I looked up at him.

“I think so, why do you need twenty-five cents?”

“Don’t you see where we are? I want to preserve one of the happiest moments of my life.” I put out my hand, palm up, he shook his head and reached into his pocket for his loose change. Once he found the two dimes and nickel he dropped them into my open palm. I gave him a quiet “Thank you,” in a sing-song voice before turning around to dispense them into the coin slot. “Now when the light in that square comes on you have to be still and look into it okay,” I instructed him while pointing to the large square in the center of the panel in front of us.

The light came on a second after and we both stood smiling. When the light went out Bucky let out a breath. “You do know you can breathe while taking these pictures right?” I asked, laughing.

“I know,” He gave me a dirty look. The light came back on for a second time and caught the moment. “Look now it's going to be messed up because you were moving”

I ignored him and leaned up close to his ear, “Smile big,” I said then pressed my lips to his cheek for the third picture. When I backed away he looked at me lovingly. He turned slightly and leaned down to my height to press his lips to my cheek. I smile the biggest smile I could for the camera. When the fourth light finally went off, we waited a minute for the photos to develop. When they were tossed out of the slot I grabbed them quickly to look at them. Bucky peered over my shoulder at them as well.

“I’m taking those two,'' he said, pointing at the one where I was laughing at him and the one where he was kissing my cheek.

“Good because I’m putting this one in the locket.”

I came from my daydream when Steve shook my shoulders. “Hey, kid, you okay?” I shrugged in response. “We’re fixing to head out, so I will get everything situated.” I turned from him and closed the locket then stuffed it back under the collar of my suit.

“I’m ready to go,” I said quietly as I straddled the back of Steve’s bike and waited for him to do the same.

The closer to the HYDRA base we got, the more my heart pounded. I could hear the rising of my blood in my ears over the loud hum of the bike and the wind. I was itching for a fight, and I knew I would get one very soon.

The vast woods kept us concealed for a while until we came upon an outpost a few miles away from the main entrance to the base. Steve drove the bike as close as he could to the building, hoping to attract as much attention as possible. It must have worked because not even a minute later a group of six men on high-tech bikes came speeding after us.

“Step on the gas Steve, they're on our tail,” I shouted out. Steve didn’t respond, he just hit the throttle harder. In order for me to sit on the back of the bike comfortably, I had his shield strapped to my back, and I was thankful for it when the HYDRA men started shooting at us. Several shots ricocheted off the shield before Steve maneuvered us out of their sights.

Looking back at the group of men, Steve pressed a button on the handlebar, allowing a long cable to shoot out and attach itself to two trees. When the line pulled taught, two of the men hit it and were thrown from their bikes. Soon after, Steve ignited a flame thrower from the back of the bike, which took two more men off our trail.

Speeding down the dirt road I watched as the last two men sped through a separate trail and came out in front of us. Steve hit the gas and we raced in between them. I took one of the unscrewed sections of my staff and gave the guard to my right a good hit to the head, knocking him off the bike. Steve reached over to the left guard’s bike and pulled out the pin to a grenade that was attached to the man's bike. We bolted forward to get out of range from the blast. I looked back to watch. Looking back in front of us, the entrance was there, tucked into the bottom of a mountain. A tank sat between the two ramped gunman stations.

“Hand me the shield.” Steve held out his hand and I unclasped the shield from around myself and gave it to him. He placed it on the front of the bike. The tank started shooting at us but missed us by several feet. As the bike carried us closer, Steve pressed another button and sent out two small missiles, which decimated the tank. Swerving around the debris, we headed up the left ramp. When the bike launched from the top into the air, I swiftly jumped off, doing a sort of backflip in the air before landing on slightly bent knees. I took out both sides of my staff and quickly joined them together.

I watched closely as I was flanked by three guards. I waited patiently, staring them down until a man on my right made the first move. I swung out the staff, striking him in the neck. Before he fell to the ground two more men with guns came at me from behind. Taking the staff I swung it around my neck, catching it with my opposite hand, and used the momentum to hit one of them in the chest. He stumbled backward into one of the trucks that surrounded us and hit his head, knocking him out. The second guard grabbed onto the outstretched part of my staff and yanked. I went with it, just enough to latch my other hand onto the end so I was holding it with both and then stood firmly. When he pulled again I let myself be moved. I followed the motion and continued going forward into him. He stumbled in surprise, which gave me the time to pull my arms back and swing them back again, hitting him in the side of the head.

I brushed the loose hairs out of my eyes before running to meet up with Steve. He had thrown his shield to hit a guard and it bounced off in my direction. I caught it and held it in front of myself to take oncoming fire. I backed my way up to Steve and I noticed the firing stopped. Handing him his shield back I noticed why. Two large men were standing on either side of us, encircling us with jets of fire. They let off the triggers and a whole unit of men closed in on us.

Two men came up and took my staff, guns, and Steve's shield. Then four more men came to hold each of our arms down. They began to walk us through the giant doors that Steve had managed to blow open with the bike, and up into the base. We ascended several flights of stairs before we were forced into a large open room with a desk in it. I could only assume it was Schmidt’s office.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. His bright red skull was hard to miss. He was saying something that I couldn't hear, I was so angry seeing him that I couldn't hear anything but a loud ringing. The ringing was made worse when I watched him strike Steve across the face and forced him to the floor by punching him in the stomach. If I wanted to I could have easily forced my way out of the grasp the two guards had on my arms, but even though all the anger I knew now wanting the time. We had a plan and I was going to stick to it if I was going to see this whole organization burn to the ground. As Schmidt pulled a gun from his belt, everyone suddenly looked to the large window at the other end of the room. Several small figures were ziplining towards us. I smiled, it was time. Schmidt was frozen in shock as Falsworth, Dugan, and Gabe came flashing in through the window.

Using the distraction I effortlessly ripped away from the two guards and tackled Schmidt. Even to his surprise, he was able to hit me hard in the nose with the grip of the gun. I flew backward, landing on a guard. I tried scrambling to my feet but the guard I landed on had a hold of my left leg. I started kicking at his hands with my free leg in hopes to loosen his hold. He quickly let go after I bent one of his fingers so far backward that it broke. I crawled up to where his head was and started punching until he was unconscious.

Coincidentally he was the guard that had taken both my staff and guns, so I reached around his back and grabbed the staff he had somehow attached to himself and retrieved my pistols from his belt. Standing up, I looked around to try and find Schmidt in the chaos.

“Where’d he go?” I shouted at Falsworth. He looked over to me and pointed down the hallway.

“That way, Steve already went after him.”

I started running, faster than I ever had before. I followed the sounds of gunshots through the twists and turns of the gray halls.

“Steve!” I yelled out, hoping he could hear me calling for him.

“I’m here!” I heard him loud and clear, he must be in the next corridor over. I kept my pace as I rounded two more corners then stopped as I saw Steve trapped in a corner by another one of those men with flamethrowers.

The flames were so big that the man hadn’t seen me sneak around him. I pounced on his back but he threw me off. I landed on the ground across from Steve, before I could get back up to try and take the man out again, he was shot down. Steve and I both turned around to see Peggy standing in the middle of the hallway. I picked myself up and jogged over to the door where the shield was stuck. I yanked it out and the doors slid open. Steve wasn’t far behind me. We ran down the hallway with several other soldiers into a large air hanger. The only aircraft in the place was whirring to life and starting to move.

“Steve, he’s in there. We have to stop him from getting away.” I started running through the chaos of the battle, no caring if anyone was in my way. I pushed them back and swung out my staff at a few before finally making it into the clear. I was running fast but the aircraft was faster. I slowed to a stop and a few seconds later Steve stopped beside me. We looked to one another in worry, but before we could think of another plan, Colonel Phillips and Peggy drove up beside us in a fancy car.

“Get in, we don’t have much time.” The Colonel orders. We both hopped in quickly, Steve in the front and me in the back with Peggy. I unscrewed the two ends of my staff and places them in their holsters so I could have my hands free to jump.

“We’re not gonna make it!” I said worriedly as the aircraft kept getting closer to the hangar door.

“Like hell we are,” Philips stated as he pressed a button next to the steering wheel. The car jolted and was propelled forward. We were gaining on the aircraft now. Steve started to stand up in his seat as we got closer and I did the same.

“Keep it steady,” Steve instructed.

“Wait.” Came Peggy’s voice. I watched as Steve turned to look and she grabbed onto one of the straps around his suit and pulled him in for a kiss. I smiled, happy for him. He turned shocked at me and I just shook my head.

“Don’t look at me, I'm not kissing you” Philips said as Steve gave him a look. I let out a laugh.

We were inching closer to the underside of the aircraft and Steve was slowly maneuvering his way to the front of the vehicle. I let out a gasp as one of the propellers scratched the shield on his back. Philips maneuvered the back end of the car between the propellers, allowing me to crouch up onto the trunk without being hit. We were nearing the end of the hanger when Steve jumped as the aircraft left the ground. When Philips drifted around in order to not fall off the side of the mountain, I jumped, using the force of the sharp turn to propel me forward and grab onto the tire right under Steve. I held on for dear life as Steve struggled to reach down and pull me up. When I was finally righted up on my feet atop the wheel, they started to be pulled back up into the hull of the aircraft. I carefully made my way off the wheels and onto the sturdy floor without any help and waited for Steve. Looking around I noticed we had a big problem.

“Steve, you’re gonna want to see this.”

“What is it?”

“Bombs. Labeled for different large cities in America. We have to stop him and fast.”

Just then a door slammed open and four men in gas masks ran in. Steve and I hurried to hide. They came jogging down the catwalk. When they got close to us Steve knocked one done by swinging into him. I stayed where I was, waiting for a moment to attack. Steve fought the men in unison before one of them ran off to get into one of the bombs. I quickly made my way over to the control panel, before he could get inside, I opened the shoot and both he and the bombing plane fell into the abyss. Steve threw another one of the men out the hole as well. I noticed another one going on one of the other planes, but before I could do anything I was tackled to the ground. I hit my head against a rail and blacked out for a moment. When I came to moments later, Steve, the guards, and the bombing plane were nowhere to be seen.

I looked out of the shoot to see if I could spot anything and I did. The plane was flying under me, but I saw Steve dangling onto the wings. Thankfully he hadn’t fallen to the ground. I left the railing and made my way to the door. There was no time to wait for Steve to make his way back inside the larger aircraft, I had to go.

It didn’t take me long to reach the cockpit. The inside of the plane was simple, the cargo hold and the cockpit were connected by just two doors. Before I entered the second door I reached for one of my guns and checked the ammo just in case. I took a deep breath and kicked the door in.

“It’s over Schmidt, I’m here to kill you.” I heard laughter coming from a dark corner to my left.

“Do you truly think you can beat me? You’re just a child, what could you possibly do to me?” HE walked out of the shadows holding a large gun. “If you know what's good for you, you’ll throw your gun down.”

“No, I won't.” I made a start to turn to him, but he shot the gun right from my hands and stalked towards me. He grabbed the back of my neck and shook me hard.

“You forget, I also have a version of your super-soldier serum running through my veins. I’m stronger than you think. If you struggle it will only end worse for you, now be quiet and stay still.” He commanded as he took his hand from my neck and wrapped it around my head to cover my mouth. He drug me with him back into the shadows.

I kept trying to wiggle out of his grasp, but he was right, he was strong, probably stronger than I was. Every time I moved his hand clamped down harder and he shook me more roughly. That was until Steve came through the door. I was walked back out of the shadows and watched as Schmidt raised the gun to shoot at Steve. Steve whirled around and when he caught sight of me he went wide-eyed.

“You don’t give up, do you?” asked Schmidt.

“No, I don’t. Now let her go” Steve replied.

“I don't think I will. She’s my leverage in this situation.”

I looked at Steve, hoping he could see what I was planning in my eyes. All I needed him to do was walk to Schmidt and I could use that to break free without being hurt. HE gave me a short nod before he started at us. Schmidt started shooting, but Steve blocked him with his shield. I used the distraction to grab Schmidt's hand with both of mine, I ducked under and twisted myself around, still holding his hand. I felt the bones in his arm fracture, this made him drop his gun in pain.

I backed off, gaining my breath back, and watched as Steve took over the fight. They were all over the place and before I knew it they had fallen into the control panel and the aircraft started to descend rapidly. I held on tightly to one of the beams closest to me. I looked over and Schmidt had gotten away from Steve and was fixing the flight path. I landed back down on the solid ground after that.

“You both could have so much power if you joined me. You are fighting for a flag, in what you think is a war of nations. Well, I have seen the future and there are no flags!” Schmidt walked around the platform, waving his gun around. He gave off two shots in Steve's direction. I hurriedly grabbed for my second gun, still in its holster. I held the gun up in my hands and pointed at his chest. I let my finger pull the trigger and the bullet missed his heart and hit his shoulder, thanks to Steve hitting him with his shield. Schmidt flew backward into some type of power converter directly in the center of the room. Blue wisps of light started to flow out from where he had crashed.

“What have you done!” he cried holding his bleeding shoulder with one hand and reaching from a glowing blue cube with the other. When he held it up in front of himself an image of the galaxy appeared out of thin air. All I could do was stare as the light of the cube started to consume Schmidt. As it reached his face, he started to scream until he was wholly encased in light. That same light was sent beaming into the space image and then quickly dissipated into nothing. All that was left behind was the cube, tumbling to the ground. It started belting through the floor before I could get a good look at it.

I looked to Steve, “What the hell was that?”

“I have no idea, but we have to stop this plane.” I followed him to the control panel, he sat down and looked at all the buttons and switches. “We’re headed straight to New York.”

“This plane is more advanced than anything I’ve ever seen, we may have to contact Stark, he might know what to do,” I said studying the panel. Steve took out his radio and brought it close to his mouth.

“This is Captain and Agent Rogers, do you read?” The line was quiet for a moment before Peggy’s voice came through.

“Steve? Is that you? Are you both alright?”

“We’re fine, Schmidt is dead.”

“What about the plane?”

“That one is a little harder to explain. It’s so advanced, neither of us knows how to safely land this thing.”

“Well, I can send you some coordinates for a safe place to crash land. We can bring in Stark to try and talk you through the landing.” Her voice sounded a little shaky.

“Peggy there isn’t going to be any safe landings, we don’t have the time. We have to put it in the water, that's the only way.” I looked wide-eyed in his direction.

“Steve, we have time to figure this out.” Peggy pleaded.

“We are in the middle of nowhere right now, but if we wait any longer a whole lot of people are gonna die.”

I butted in then, “If you’re going to do this, you need to put her down now. We have about twenty-five minutes before we make it to the States.

“Peggy this is my decision” He stated and she never gave a reply. He looked over his shoulder at me. I moved closer to him and placed my hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

“Don’t be sorry, this was my choice as well. I’d rather go down with you than live by myself without you and Bucky.” I felt him place his left hand on my right and squeeze before placing it back into the control column. I braced myself as the aircraft descended rapidly. The icy ground was getting closer every second, I couldn’t look away. The only thing that kept me calm was my grip on the locket around my neck. Memories flooded my mind as we descended farther and farther.

As the aircraft made contact with the ice, I was thrown back into the far wall behind me and then everything suddenly went black.

I woke up to the sound of a radio in the distance. My eyes fluttered open but I instantly shut them again because of the bright sun beaming in through the window. I brought my hands up to rub the sleep from around my eyes and tried to open them again, this time I kept them open. The room I was in was small, Steve was in the cot to my right and there was a window looking out at some buildings.

Getting up out of the small bed I stepped closer to the window to look down at the street below but found no street. The buildings just stopped at the floor. I looked side to side and the image stopped after a few feet. I held my breath as I turned and ran to Steve. I placed my hands on his upper body and shook violently.

“Steve, wake up,” I whisper yelled. He jumped slightly before springing into an upright position.

“What is it. Is everything okay?”

“I have no clue what is going on, but something isn’t right. Those buildings,” I pointed to the windows, “Those buildings aren't real, they’re being projected somehow onto a screen that ends just out of view.”

He took a second to think before looking over at the radio. “That game, isn’t that the one we went to in forty-one?”

I listened intently to the broadcaster calling the score; the Dodgers and Phillies were tied four to four. The whole thing sounded like I had heard it before. Suddenly the doorknob turned and a woman came in. Even if I hadn't seen the screen out the window or recognized the game on the radio, with one look at her outfit, I would have known something was up. Her skirt was too tight, too straight, and the look of her bra under her blouse was not something you should have been able to see. She was also wearing black tights in her uniform, we were only ever allowed light or dark tan. Any woman from the forties would have known she looked a little strange.

“Good afternoon you too. Glad to see you’re both awake.” She stepped further into the room.

“Where are we?” Steve and I said in unison.

“You’re in a recovery room in New York City.” Steve and I gave one another a skeptical look as she said this.

“Where are we really,” Steve interrogated further.

“I'm not sure I understand what you’re asking.”

“The game is from May of 1941. I know, because we were both there that day.” Steve informed me, standing up from the cot.

“Those buildings you have out the window aren't real either, so tell us where we are,” I added in. I watched as her face went into complete shock.

“Who are you?” Steve almost shouted at her. She backed away and immediately two large guards came through the door. One came at me and the other went for Steve. I barely had time to think before I was grabbing hold of the man's arm and throwing him through the wall to the left. I started running, leaping through the hole the man had created in the wall, I stopped in shock looking around me. We were in a large room, void from anything other than the screens and the room we had escaped from. Steve was beside me now, pulling my arm as we ran through the nearest doorway and into a crowded lobby. I spotted the front door and moved for it. We ran, barely escaping all the men that came running at us.

Outside the building, I was overwhelmed with noise. Steve pulled me out into the road where we were almost run over by what I could only assume was a weird model of a car I had never seen before. Sprinting further down the street, we made it to a larger area with more people. The buildings were tall and had lots of flashing and moving pictures all around. We stopped running, confused about where to go next. That’s when we were surrounded by more of the strange model cars.

“At ease Soldier, Agent.”

We turned sharply, looking to who had called out to us. A tall dark-skinned man with an eye patch covering his left eye stood a couple of feet away. He came strutting towards us at a fast pace.

“I'm sorry about that little show we put on, we thought it would be best to break this to you both slowly,” he said in a straight tone.

“Break what slowly?” I demanded.

“You both have been asleep for the past seventy years.” My eyes went wide at that, my breath caught in my throat. This couldn't be real. That was impossible, no one could sleep for that long. Steve looked like he had not aged a day. I assumed that was the same case for me as well. “Are you two gonna be okay?”

I nodded, looking all around me at whatever this future New York was. This was going to take a lot of getting used to.

Tag list: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #winter solider x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

[obeymeluv]

Um...Good Morning? [7 Bros Reaction]

I have so many ideas for this blog~ I didn’t expect to be found so soon but I’m grateful for the support! This reaction is NSFW (because the boys love you).

P.S: I don’t know if there’s any sun in the Devildom (I don’t think so?) but we’ll say there’s not.

Super long because there’s headcannons for all 7 brothers.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────» «────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────» 

Aww, the little human slept in! Time to wake them up! Never mind, now we’re ALL late to school!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────» «────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Lucifer

He fully expected you to sleep through your alarm and be late sometime during your first month in the Devildom. Humans are interesting little creatures that depend on routines and you’ve lost the sun.

Lucifer, trying to uphold Diavolo’s wish for humans, devils, and angels to build a bridge of understanding amongst themselves, gives you the benefit of the doubt and waits about ten minutes before deciding to wake you up

He’s very Type A. Probably didn’t even wait the ten minutes. Wants you to succeed and he’s responsible for you so you WILL get up.

When talking to you and light knocking (for him) don’t work, that door’s coming open!

And there you lay, perfectly asleep. Hugging your pillow with your tiny (to them) human body tangled in the sheets. Hair a mess and a...bottom scantily clad and just...in view

Lucifer doesn’t handle nudity well and you just make it all worse. His face heats up and he doesn’t know what face to make or where to put his hands

Forgets to shut the door, doesn’t say anything else. Turns away while trying to process what he just saw. Or...or not process (because that’s not right).

He absolutely CANNOT leave in this state so does he just stay home sick or...?

It’s not until Satan and Mammon come slinking up to poke at him and see what’s taking so long that he realizes they’re going to see you.

Lucifer hisses at them, little black diamond pulsing in his forehead as his horns threaten to spiral up into view.

Accidentally shuts the door on his hand because he tried to close it so quick

You get woken up by the small spat between Mammon and Lucifer--”Her FIRST MAN needs to see what’s up!”, “You won’t BE a man if you don’t SHUT UP and GO TO SCHOOL this INSTANT!”--and poke your sleepy head out the door to see Beel with Asmo and Mammon in a bear hug, lumbering towards the door.

Lucifer looks absolutely exhausted. “Please get dressed. It’s time for school.”

Mammon

He may give Lucifer a hard time but Mammon secretly enjoys waking you up

You know, FIRST MAN privileges and all!

Also, if he has to go, you’re going.

Has VERY little patience and doesn’t like to be ignored after putting all of that effort into his entrance/witty announcements.

“Yo, get--” Mammon threw the door open after running out of clever stuff to say and is totally awestruck by the sight of your ass just out there to see

He’s not up on human terms but he knows that’s a money-maker!

Seriously, that ass could make some cash! (he’d go into debt for that ass)

His ears, cheeks, and throat get super hot. Like, somewhere in the back of his mind Mammon knows his face is hurting

“Get up already!” he can’t even yell right now. His voice cracked. He’s dying inside. He jangles the door handle obnoxiously and hits his head on it really hard because this is a weird way to start the morning and he needs to think of ANYTHING ELSE.

Asmo’s skipping towards him none too innocently, practically glowing at the chance to see some drama

You open your eyes just in time to see Asmo get fucking clotheslined and dragged away from your door, the two brothers rolling away together in a ball of flailing, squealing, and biting.

“What’s going on?”

“NOTHING! STAY IN YOUR ROOM! SHUT UP AND GET READY FOR SCHOOL! THE GREAT MAMMON HAS WAITED LONG ENOUGH!”

He never tells you what he saw, and he’s weirdly protective of you the rest of the day

Leviathan 

Wouldn’t normally dream of waking you up. Touching a normie? Eww! He doesn’t even like going to school, himself, but somehow the duty’s fallen to him, so he must.

Should he say something funny? Something sweet? How would Henry do it?

OTOMES DID NOT PREPARE HIM FOR THIS!! (side note: buy more ‘slice of life otomes. They will surely have ‘wake up’ scenes).

Gets very shy, doesn’t knock loud enough, and grumbles out things you never hear (”Good morning! Time to get up! HEL-LOO!”)

Finally opens the door because if he doesn’t, you’ll never come out

Boy’s heart skipped a beat and probably stopped a minute. He makes The Noise™ (”WooOOOooW!”)

You’ll never be Ruri-chan but HOT DAMN!

That’s basically a free X-rated scene without all the dialogue and gifts!

Achievement unlocked? No, no. This doesn’t feel right! It’s not right!

Levi feels faint from excitement (is that a thing)?

He’s red in the face and right is left, he closed his eyes, and almost took himself out on your doorway trying to run away

Mammon’s coming to investigate and Levi’s demon form gets triggered because the thought of Mammon seeing you like this might make you guys closer, then you’ll get together, you won’t have time to be his friend (you dumb normie!), and just NO because Mammon took his figurine and his money!

Accidentally gets his tail stuck under the door

You guys are legitimately late and Levi may sound like he’s complaining but he doesn’t really mean any of it. Intimacy + 5, right?

Satan

He’s not as hardcore of a Type A as Lucifer, but he’s very orderly and wants to be on time. Life is easier when you put in effort.

Because he doesn’t want to hear Lucifer ramble on about how you need to get up and eat and generally detests the idea of him stealing anymore of his air, Satan goes to wake you up

It’s a moment of brief peace that he really values

Gives short, strong knocks and brief calls (mostly, ‘hey’)

Starts to get a little angry that you’re not up. Some questions and curiosities come into play, taking the edge off, but really, how long is this going to take?

Opens your door to give a tiny lecture (read: complain) and that ass throws him into stunned silence

Satan’s the one to get a nosebleed.

Forgets he’s supporting himself on the door, loses his grip, and almost gives himself a black eye

Beet red and trying not to get blood everywhere, Satan’s telling you to get up or you’ll be late

Coming from Lucifer has its perks, as he can do The Look ™ and chase his siblings off

When you show signs of getting up and moving for the day, he goes off to tend to his nosebleed

You’re awake and ready to go--backpack and all--when you realize he has blood on his bow tie.

Satan won’t admit he likes to keep up his appearance like Lucifer, but he insists on changing it out to save himself the annoyance of answering questions all day

You help, and it takes all his willpower not to get another nosebleed as you fix his bow tie

You’re both late and he doesn’t care. You talk about books on the way.

Asmodeus

Asmo’s an early bird because his routine is extensive and the world needs his perfection.

Wants to wake you up earlier--way earlier--and everyone craps on that idea instantly.

He wanted to bond, get you all dressed up! Maybe find a way for you guys to match or just do you hair. He has lots of ideas and he’d love to play with it!

But he waits to the point of it being painful, to where it feels like a century (read: until Lucifer tells him you need to get up).

Asmodeus bounds down the hall like a giddy puppy, throwing your door open like he’s the sun itself come to wake you up.

His eyes land on you and this boy basically explodes. YOU’RE SO CUTE OH MY GOD! It’s like an arrow to the heart, honestly

That bed head? Your little feet? And that ass, oh my!

As much as he wants to, he doesn’t take any pictures with his D.D.D because 1) you’re not dating and 2) he doesn’t have your consent.

The type to tease you and (accidentally, maybe) make you so mad you get up by yourself because he does not shut up!

When your feet hit the floor he’s trying to be in three different places at once. He wants to brush your hair and help you into your uniform and ALL THE THINGS!

You may break his heart by locking him out long enough to get dressed, but he pulls the charm and puppy eyes to convince you to let him do your hair. Or your makeup. Or your nails (maybe all three).

You’re late (not because you didn’t try to leave on time) but Asmo gets the punishment tossed because “perfection cannot be punished, and we are flawless.”

Beelzebub

Despite his many midnight snacks, this boy gets up early because he wants to be the first at breakfast

Eats his food, packs a few snacks for school, and tries to sneak your portion for himself. Doesn’t mean to, but the siren call is too strong!

Besides, you’re sleeping. You can’t eat if you’re sleeping. He doesn’t want it to go to waste!

When the family clears the table, it’s time to wake you up.

This boy hopes you get up because if you get up early enough, you can stop by a restaurant and get something to eat! Or you can get a good spot at the cafeteria!

Very kind and patient with waking you up, but his stomach wins out with a loud grumble.

When the grumble doesn’t wake you up, he pokes his head in to check on you.

He has PLENTY of experience with this because of Belphie and--Beel realizes you’re partially naked and his face catches on fire.

For a minute, he’s not hungry. Just looks, then doesn’t realize he’s looking and gets more embarrassed.

This boy’s probably eaten ass at least once in his long life and he’d DEFINITELY eat yours. Or eat something off of yours. Cake would be good. Is that cake still in the fridge? Mmmm...cake...

Beel may have tried to take a bite out of you when you first arrived (because you smelled so good and humans are basically a delicacy among delicacies) but he would never without your consent, so he settles for one of his freshly-packed snacks

Wakes you up with eating/package sounds. Tries to feed you.

Is pretty content to wait for you to get ready, seeing as how he has food

You guys end up being late because he stopped to get you a coffee and that turned into coffee and lots of sweets

Belphegor

He doesn’t like being woken up so why the hell would he want to wake you up?!

It’s just wrong, him stealing another person’s sleep!

Wants to do it even less because Lucifer asked him to (the asshole)

Can’t even justify it by ‘suffering together’

Belphegor knocks on your door a few times and resists the urge to lean his head against it. This boy can sleep standing up!

He finally opens it because if he keeps closing his eyes, they’re going to stay closed

It takes him a few minutes to realize you have a nice ass because he’s hating on how asleep you are.

Like, that’s a nappin’ ass. He bets it’s comfortable and soft. Would probably make a good pillow...

Belphie likes to nap, so he knows how to gently wake a sleeping person

You don’t even open your eyes as you talk to him, your voice deep and slurred with sleep. It’s so damn cute it’s almost disgusting and Belphegor’s happy you’re not looking at his face.

Makes the dangerous mistake of sitting on your bed to annoy you (shake your shoulders, etc.) and starts to get sucked into the idea of another nap

The two of you make a compromise--he’ll say he thinks you’re sick/just needed rest, and YOU let him sleep in your room. Belphie doesn’t outright say he misses sleeping with people, and probably won’t sleep with you in the bed. It’s just the idea of having another person around.

The plan works, and Lucifer and the others think he left your room to give you privacy.

Belphie makes sure everyone’s gone as he grabs a pillow and blanket. This boy’s changed out of his uniform and into pajamas in 0.03 seconds.

Falls asleep on your floor

Lucifer comes home to yell at you guys later in the day but you’ve just catnapped in different spots of the House of Lamentation and the others shush him. Apparently he’s not allowed to wake up the human (you do look kind of cute though)

Belphie is taken off of wake-up duty.

It was long but I hope you liked it!

#Obey Me! x Reader #Obey Me x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Lucifer x Reader #Satan x Reader #Asmodeus x Reader #Beelzebub x Reader #Belphegor x Reader #Leviathan x Reader

[sirius]

Heatwave (The Mandalorian x Reader) SMUT

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, rough sex, light choking, dom/sub (Mandalorian dom, Reader sub)

Word count: 🤷🏽‍♀️

Summary: You’re a thief with sexy fire powers. He’s a sexy bounty hunter who you’ve been playing cat and mouse with. When he catches you, Baby Yoda decides to play match-maker. It works. For once.

A/N: I found this baby after scrolling through my notes and had to post it. I wrote this when I was drunk so forgive the spelling errors. Baby Yoda is literally that one criminal dude from tangled (I think?) who bangs the two tiny wooden horses together. lol. 

Also, am I wrong in saying that I think everyone wants to fuck the Mandalorian in his sexy Mandalorian armour?

(Not my gif)

***

You can’t deny that there’s something sexy about being handcuffed and taken prisoner by the Mandalorian.

While inconvenient to say the least, there’s still an undercurrent of sexual tension that demands to be felt, charging the air between the two of you as he straps you into the seat beside him. It’s why he always chases you, why you always allow yourself to get caught, and why he lets you escape into the night. It’s the longest, most amusing, most sexy game of chess you’ve ever played.

“Every time you handcuff me, I always imagine it in an entirely different context,” you purr, smirking up at him as he tightens your handcuffs.

As usual, he doesn’t say anything at first. Its becoming all too predictable.

The fancy, expensive, definitely-not-a-sex-toy handcuffs dig into the skin of your wrists, though not enough to make it arousing. He’s done it deliberately; he’s surmised you like it rough from your previous encounters with him. It’s a type of torture he’s managed to master exceedingly well. Which is arousing in itself. What a paradox the two of you are.

“Jokes on you, y’know,” you tease, tilting your head up at him, “I’m very much into the idea of you torturing me.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he warns, his voice tinny and deliciously husky.

“So he speaks.”

The Mandalorian remains silent, though you can somehow tell he’s glaring at you from behind his helmet.

“You’re not the first Mandalorian to come after me,” you say as he kneels to bind your ankles, “And you won’t be the last. I’ve killed your predecessors and I won’t hesitate to kill whoever they decide to send after you. You’re lucky I’m into you otherwise I’d have my legs around your neck right now — and not in a good way.”

The Mandalorian is silent at first. Then, when you think he isn’t going to grace you with a response—

“So you’re just going to keep running? What kind of life is that?”

You chew your bottom lip, considering his question thoughtfully, “It’s a life and it’s far better than the alternative.”

The Mandalorian rises, straightens the broad line of his shoulders, “Is it really a life? If you can’t settle down to enjoy it?”

You gracefully arch an eyebrow at him, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mandalorian.”

He doesn’t say anything after that.

****

The strange, tiny child gazes up at you with large, innocent inky-black eyes and blinks owlishly.

He’s managed to scramble into your lap, blocking your means of escape while the Mandalorian hastily fixes the engine of his ship. You can’t help but smile at his innocence, contrasting the weight of your criminal ways.

Regardless, you focus on funnelling the spluttering ball of energy in your core to your ankle cuffs. The heated metal bites into your skin as it begins to glow bright orange, but you can take it. You’re one of the last Phoenixs — or Nixes, for short —  in the universe; cosmic fire and heat is what you are, what you’re made of.

The child, however, doesn’t seem afraid of the heat rising from your skin, turning your hair a bright, fiery red.

“Look, little guy — or girl — I need you to get off my lap so I can bust out of here!” You hiss, imploringly, “My distraction will only last so lo—“

The Mandalorian’s heavy footsteps echo into the cockpit of his ship. You immediately stop melting the metal, allowing your natural hair colour to bleed over the reds and oranges, disguising your true heritage.

He stops, spotting the child now stroking your hair.

“He’s cute,” you remark, beaming down at the child, “Didn’t realise you had a kid.”

The Mandalorian marches forward and snatches the child from your lap. He cradles him protectively, eying you with what you suspect is suspicion as he safely places the child on the far side of the room.

“Don’t touch him.”

“He was touching me first.”

“I don’t care, don’t touch him.”

“My god, you’d think I’m infected with some hideous, flesh-eating disease.”

“No, you’re a criminal—“

“—Thief—“

“—you’re a criminal and I don’t trust you.”

Something about that stings. Your expression shutters, schooling into apathy.

“So why keep me around?” You ask, coolly, “Why don’t you just carbon freeze me?”

You have a feeling you know the answer. He doesn’t carbon freeze you for the same reason why he doesn’t bother stopping you as you escape the slippery clutches of the ego-bruised men you’ve stolen from. It’s the same reason you haven’t burned him to a crisp as soon as you’ve seen him, the same reason you allow him to drag you back to his ship, cash you in for his bounty, and disappear.

There’s tension, but it’s more than tension. It’s something you can’t articulate because you’ve never quite felt it before. You doubt he has either.

The Mandalorian doesn’t answer. He seems to be staring down at the ankle cuffs, the metal twisted and deformed from where you’ve been heating it. He steps forward—

Suddenly, an invisible force loop around your waist and hoists you up, pulling you toward The Mandalorian. His arms are forced around your waist in jerky movements almost like an invisible puppeteer is pushing and plucking the strings. His helmet is yanked up over his neck, past his chin, stopping just above his nose, revealing plush lips and stubble and—

Your lips are forced together in the most awkward kiss you’ve ever had.

Both of you have your lips pressed tight, and the Mandalorian is rigid and tense, unsure of what to do. Still, energy blinks to life inside of you and you open your mouth just a little, embracing the kiss.

It lingers. It’s still awkward.

But then, he begins to kiss you back, his lips moving slightly, carefully, enough to taste hints of fine whiskey and your head begins to spin, embers sparking your lower belly, travelling up your spine, across your chest, down your arms—

It ends all too soon.

“Stop it, let us go,” The Mandalorian orders over his shoulder. You allow your eyes to follow his line of sight, snagging on the kid.

His tiny, pudgy hand is raised, his round eyes closed and you realise with a shock that he’s controlling you, bending the air around you both and forcing you into this kiss.

At the sound of his voice, the child stops, releasing his hold on you. He staggers a little, exhaustion seemingly crashing over him, dragging him under into unconsciousness. He collapses and the Mandalorian rushes forward to catch him, holding the child to his chest.

The Mandalorian disappears for a moment, giving you time to recover from your bewilderment. You’ve never seen anything quite like that before, and you’ve seen a lot of things. You have a feeling that in your past life, you may have witnessed a similar phenomenon, but you’re not giving enough time to dwell on it, however, because the Mandalorian comes storming back.

“So, you gonna tell me what that was all about?”

The Mandalorian ignores you, hunting around the cockpit for something.

“You’re not going to make me beg, are you?”

The Mandalorian stops, slants a look over his shoulder, “Maybe I will.”

You roll your eyes, “Please, Mando. Please tell me what the fuck just happened.”

The Mandalorian grasps a black bandage and whips it, stalking toward you, “Not what I meant.”

“What—?”

“—I’m sick of chasing you,” he growls, manoeuvring you around so he can fasten the bandage around your head; a makeshift blindfold, “It’s time you got what you deserve.”

Your stomach curdles, blood roaring in your ears. Carbon freezing. Your worst fear. You try to swallow, but it gets knotted somewhere in your throat.

“Kinky,” you rasp, trying your best to recover your slipping facade, “I hope my punishment involves whips and chains.”

The Mandalorians voice is in the shell of your ear, Mississippi hot and molasses thick, “Oh, you have no idea.”

Suddenly, he spins you around, and you barely have time to recover from the whiplash before his lips are on yours.

He’s ferocious, unforgiving. Just the way you like it.

He kisses you with a fiery passion, tongue darting into your mouth, tasting, teasing, his teeth digging into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. You moan, arching against him, wishing he’d free you so you could tug him closer but the Mandalorian keeps you bound and at his mercy.

You pull away, panting, as the Mandalorian trails kisses down your neck, sucking and biting and bruising the tender flesh. He’s obviously taken his helmet off while you were blindfolded. Curiosity strikes you but is dissolved when he finds the spot on your neck that makes you gasp.

“If—if I had known this would happen, I would’ve allowed myself to get caught a lot sooner,” you tease, a little breathlessly.

The Mandalorians fingers grasp your waist, pulling you closer, gripping you with bruising strength that dampens your panties. He chuckles against your skin, breath hot, tongue wet as he licks along your jugular.

“God I hate that mouth of yours,” he breathes, scraping his teeth across your skin, “It gets you into so much trouble.”

“It’s good for other things, too.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he grasps your waist with strong hands and spins you around, breath fanning across the back of your neck.

Your spine shudders and melts. He makes quick work of your clothes, starting with your sleeveless turtleneck top. He pulls it over your head and tosses it aside and unclasping your bra. With one hand pawing at your breast, he uses the other to tug on the zip of your skirt, pulling it down until the fabric pools at your feet. He helps you out of your thigh-high boots and undoes the holsters strapped to your thigh. Next, he uncuffs your wrists and ankles until you’re wearing nothing but skin. His breath audibly tangles in his throat.

You snicker, biting your bottom lip, “My, my. Have I rendered the great Mandalorian speechless?”

A sharp stab of pain ripples across your ass cheek, followed by the rough ministrations of a strong, calloused hand. You gasp, relishing in the sting of pain and burst of arousal.

You moan. Your darkest fantasies have spilt from your daydreams and splashed themselves against the backdrop of reality. Finally, after three years of chasing and catching, the sexual tension sizzling between the two of you is resolved.

He steals the breath from your lungs as he kisses you deeply, your moans melting on his tongue. His fingers grip your breasts and you gasp, head lulling back as he rolls them in the palm of his hands.

“God,” you sigh, “You’re good at this.”

Suddenly, his lips are biting into your nipple and you arch into his mouth, fingers combing through his hair as he slurps and sucks on your nipple. Your thighs quiver as you tug on the roots of his hair and he groans. You can feel him poking into your thigh and your excitement builds quickly, your fingers pulling at his cape.

He steps away from your grasp with a low, drawling chuckle, rich with husk and desire and pure sex appeal.

“I’m in control,” he snarls, “You obey me. You hear?”

“Yes, master,” you whimper, skin crawling.

“Good.”

You hear the rasping of fabric and the whirr of zipper teeth being pulled apart. His footsteps, heavy with purpose, move around you; there's a clang of metal and then he’s behind you again, loosening your blindfold until it falls away.

The Mandalorian whirls you around, pushing you up against the control board. He’s still fully clothed and his helmet is now fixed onto his neck and while you had been curious about the face that hides behind that helmet, you can’t deny that the thought of him fucking you in his bounty armour is unbelievably sexy.

The only thing that’s missing is — of course — the codpiece. Your shiver completely rattles your entire frame, anticipation bubbling deliciously in your veins.

The Mandalorian steps forward and reaches into his pants, pulling out his cock.

You salivate.

He’s...huge. Probably the biggest and thickest cock you’ve seen (and you’ve seen a lot in your lifetime — part of the job). It makes you wonder how he jams that beast into his pants without damaging something. You slide your tongue over your lips as you watch him stroke himself, smearing precum over the bulging, purple helmet.

“Touch yourself.”

You obey, spreading your legs far apart so he can watch your fingers dance. Behind his mask, you can feel his eyes smouldering as you tease your clit, rubbing the pearl of nerves with your index and middle finger. You moan, tossing your head back, building up quite the rhythm while the Mandalorian watches.

You startled slightly when the Mandalorian runs his hands over your smooth thighs, mapping you out with his fingers. He’s gentle, appreciating the warmth of your skin, how you glow with desire and emit a natural, golden aura common among Nixes.

“It’s been a while since...” he trails off, shaking his head.

With a sudden burst of strength, he grips your legs and hoists them around his waist. And, impatiently, unceremoniously, he slides inside of you.

“Fuck,” you curse, gripping his broad shoulders.

Moans spill into the air as the Mandalorian begins to move, rolling his hips against you. The cool metal of his armour shocks your hot skin but the contrast of steaming heat and icy cold makes your eyes roll back and your heart hammer impossibly fast.

“Yes, yes, oh Jesus yes!”

The Mandalorian’s pace begins to build as he slams into you. He’s rough and unapologetic and reaching depths inside of you that you didn’t know existed. He pounded with frenzied, sharp movements, his hand snaking up your side to your neck where his fingers hugged and tightened. His other hand stays secured on your hip, bruised already starting to form from where his grip burns into you.

Your fingers skim across your damp skin, trailing down to your clit where your fingers circle and pinch. The Mandalorian — silent until now — groans as he watches you, his pace speeding up ruthlessly.

“I’m close,” he grunts, giving your neck a squeeze.

“So am I,” you hiss, locking your legs around him.

The friction of his armour against your hot skin, the pressure of his strong hand gripping your begging neck, his cock ploughing into you with incredible strength; it’s an overwhelming indulgence to the senses and you feel your hot core begin to glow, crackling with cosmic energy.

The air, thick with sex and insatiable heat, shimmers and ignites with tiny tongues of fire like hovering fireflies. The Mandalorian hasn’t noticed yet, but it doesn’t take him long until he does.

“(Y/N)––“

He’s cut off by the cry that issues from your swollen lips. Your pussy clenches and quivers around his cock as you tumble over the edge, crashing into a release that completely drowns your body in mind-numbing pleasure. The Mandalorian is right behind you, grinding out pieces of your name as he meets his own release.

Panting, you sit up and he rests his head on your shoulder. Around you, the small flames have exploded into tiny fireworks, lighting up the air with vibrant light.

You slide off the control board, climb back into your clothes and pull on your boot. You reach for the other boot but the Mandalorian grabs it first, kneeling to slide the boot onto your foot. You watch, mesmerised, as he pulls the inner zip up your leg and along your thigh.

Moments later, the electronic doors to the cockpit slide open and the child waddles forward, gazing innocently up at you. You step forward and give the Mandalorian a questioning look. He nods.

You bend down and scoop the child into your arms and he snuggles against your chest.

“I really love this kid,” you murmur, beaming down at him.

“Yeah, he’s alright,” The Mandalorian shrugs, approaching you so he can tug at the child’s cloak. He pulls it over the child’s face, keeping his neck warm.

“We have to name him,” you decide, “I can’t keep referring to him as the kid.”

You say it like you’re staying with them, trapesing across the universe together.

The Mandalorian, however, doesn’t disagree.

The handcuffs and ankle cuffs stay in their place on the floor.

#the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #baby yoda #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian imagines #smut #star wars imagine #mandalorian #dad!mandalorian #dom/sub #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian spoilers #star wars smut #star wars fluff #georgie writes

[locktobre]

bcbd thoughts

right away I see that this is only an hour long, so... it’s not a movie, then. it’s a one hour special, again. I feel like I’m already gonna miss the extra 20 minutes just like dolphin magic but we’ll see I guess. maybe it’ll be a mercy that it’s shorter.

the opening credits/dream sequence was nice. the animation on the city is decent, and the monochrome thing was kind of cool.

her being on stage reminded me a little of Eden, and then immediately I missed Eden so much. they would never let a version of Babs be a bitch now and that’s such a shame.

so now we’re joking about George tracking Barbie’s cell phone? bc that’s fine and not at all an invasion of privacy or anything. also, you can check flight statuses on the internet so that’s really not necessary. also, why the fuck didn’t Barbie call them once she got off the plane? or at least text? I always text or call my mom when I land, and frankly I’m not even as close to my mom as Barbie claims to be to her parents. and I did that when I was 17 traveling alone, too, so it’s not just something I do as an adult. it’s part of the responsibility of traveling to let ppl know that you got somewhere safe so they don’t worry about you. what the fuck Babs.

was that honking supposed to be like censoring the cabbie swearing bc I would love that. let the cabbie say fuck.

I still maintain that this “summer program” thing is bullshit and Babs should have been going off to college. I know they won’t let her grow up but it makes more sense than this does. also, you’re telling me there’s no summer programs for acting/whatever in LA? seriously? she HAD to go across the country for this? and her parents let her? they don’t even trust her! they said that 2 seconds ago! or is tracking her cell phone the reason she’s allowed to travel across the country (to Willows and Florida and Hawaii) by herself in the first place? I hate this I hate it so much already

The Handler Arts Academy... oh I’m feeling emotions

“luck’s got nothing to do with it. you worked your tail off for this” SHOW ME FOR WHEN, PLEASE. this could have been an actual arc of the show, a goal Barbie was working towards that could thread thru multiple episodes... but no. this came out of nowhere. I’m STILL saying that Amelia bought Barbie’s place here bc FUCK YOU SHOW

“I hope I’m good enough” you’re a mediocre rich white woman, you can do literally anything you want.

why is her guitar shoved in a cardboard box and not, idk, in a guitar case? that’s stupid. also, that’s an open cardboard box, so how did that travel on the plane? a closed cardboard box, fine. should be a suitcase, but fine. but this just makes no sense and I am not going to let it slide bc I hate this continuity and everything about it.

however, I will give Brooklyn a pass for the open cardboard box bc she literally lives in NYC and didn’t have to take a fucking plane to get here. she can carry it like that if she wants.

“as long as you don’t break [my leg], we’re good” I’ve already seen Brooklyn in a cast, so... does Malibu literally break her leg later on? even on accident... jesus christ.

is this Russian(?) custodian lady gonna be the antagonist/villain? bc I’m already not vibing with that. not at fucking all.

how the FUCK could they show up a day early? why would they not show up on the day they’re supposed to? that doesn’t make any sense! and if they’re NOT supposed to be there yet, then there would be no staff there to watch them, so they should have to come back tomorrow! they shouldn’t be allowed to be by themselves in a school like this! I’m assuming this is to facilitate a day of bonding without stupid things like classes in the way, but they could have written an orientation day or something in that would have made more sense, and as I said, I am not inclined to give them a pass on anything these days. fuck you all.

so, room assignments are alphabetical... I guess that kind of explains them being in the same room, altho it does feel coincidental that they wouldn’t be, like, in neighboring rooms. also they didn’t animate little signs on the other doors, even with nonsense text if they didn’t want to put other names up, so their door really sticks out for no reason. also, shouldn’t it say “Barbie Roberts & Barbie Roberts” or some other way of having both names on the door? also, if the school knows they have the same name, couldn’t they put middle initials or something? we know Malibu is Barbie M. Roberts, and I will generously assume that Brooklyn’s middle name is something else, so that would have been fine. this really feels like the administrators don’t give a fuck, and in a supposedly prestigious school, I don’t buy that.

so, Brooklyn has been training every summer in different programs, very intensely, to get in here... and Malibu trained on the internet. what have I been saying about Malibu’s white mediocrity? hmm?

even after that (lackluster) montage, it feels way too soon for “Before Us.” I don’t believe they’re best friends who warrant a song about their friendship. I don’t believe that at all.

I like the bald fashionista being on the billboard, that’s a nice touch.

Malibu bringing up her vlog like that gives me hives. she has already stated multiple times that she does that to help ppl, not for clout, and yet. here she is. being a fake ass bitch once again.

Brooklyn and Emmie’s story is already way more interesting than this and I’m pissed that’s just backstory.

LOVE that green-haired dude. idk where you’re going with that drum but godspeed my dude.

I’m assuming that’s Emmie incognito in the back, but... what’s she doing here if she’s already famous? pulling an Erika Juno?

Dean Morrison seems cool

(is it too early to ship Brooklyn x Emmie?)

if pets are allowed in this school, I’m SHOCKED Malibu didn’t bring Taffy. truly fucking shocked.

Rafa reminds me so much of Jacques Rousseau

“the only labels we believe in are designer” so Rafa’s gay, right? Barbie’s first gay character? I can only assume

the ballet thing still doesn’t make sense to me, if their goal is to be on Broadway. ballet is an entire art and discipline in itself.

fencing makes more sense, bc stage fighting is a thing.

‘work it’ is even funnier than I imagined. Malibu you’re such a fuck up. and I can’t even cut you some slack bc earlier you said your training was “internet.” you didn’t work for this and you don’t belong here. die.

if this was PCS, Malibu would have been kicked out already. YOU WERE NOT PREPARED FOR THIS. WHAT HAVE I BEEN SAYING FOR MONTHS.

so, the ‘work it’ montage clearly showed the passage of time, it’s been at least a week, and... Malibu hasn’t talked to Ken at all during that time? this is the first time she’s telling him about Brooklyn?

ok, confirmed to be a week. and she hasn’t talked to Ken. of course. they are so close of course she hasn’t talked to him in a week, especially when she’s been struggling so much and would need to vent to a friend about it. of course.

so, Emmie is pulling an Erika Juno. at least she’s in disguise.

jesus christ, they’re really having Emmie be exploited by her own father??? JESUS.

ok Brooklyn x Emmie is sailing.

Brooklyn’s mom is an airline pilot, that sounds cool.

so the dresses are powered by the magic of friendship? cool. that’s stupid.

of COURSE Emmie’s dad is the board member. jesus christ I hate this dude.

okay, so she DIDN’T break her leg, it’s only a sprain. thank god. poor green-haired drum dude.

saying “epic fail” in 2021 unironically is not cool, mattel. unless I’m even more out of touch with the youth than I thought, but I’m pretty sure about that.

wait, so Brooklyn was dancing... and now she’s on crutches again? what is this montage? they fucked up here.

of all things to kick Malibu out for, they’re saying she pushed Brooklyn? why not all the fuck ups in her first week?

also, Rafa was taping that class so how do they not bring that up immediately? that’s the whole reason they were dancing over there in the first place! (so he might not have caught anything, but still, I have to assume that’s going to fix this bc that’s what these movies do.)

I really like Malibu’s leather jacket look, but she does look a little bit old I think. Brooklyn’s leggings look is nice, too.

okay, so Brooklyn suddenly believes the unnamed witness over the girl she sang ‘before us’ with? okay. I told you this friendship was a crock of shit. they don’t trust each other at all! Brooklyn should have been angry when she first fell, and it builds to thinking that she was sabotaged, but she brushed it off... and now she’s pissed. that makes no sense.

this friendship breakup song also means nothing to me bc their friendship fell apart for such a stupid reason. fate didn’t tear you apart, you tore yourselves apart by not trusting each other. stupid little children.

if Brooklyn’s ankle isn’t completely healed aka still painful, she should not be dancing on it, she could injure herself more or at least prolong the healing process.

ok, so NOW, after Malibu has already been expelled and sent back home, they remembered the video. these kids are so fucking stupid. and of COURSE the unnamed witness is Mr Miller! Emmie, you ALREADY KNOW that your dad is shady as shit and wants you to get the Spotlight Solo! HOW DID YOU NOT PUT THIS TOGETHER IN 5 SECONDS? I DID

so, Mr Miller thought Malibu was Emmie’s biggest competition for the solo? Malibu, the spectacular fuck up? not Brooklyn? or any of the background extras? I refuse to fucking believe that. I REFUSE.

how did George and Margaret just let Malibu get expelled without flying out there to fight the charge? seriously?

how is is Brooklyn singing ‘before us’ in-universe such that Malibu recognizes it? you’re breaking the conventions of musicals! I don’t get this!

I like Brooklyn’s mom being a pilot less after it’s been used to facilitate this bullshit part of the plot.

again, just “Barbie Roberts” makes no sense. where’s a middle initial to differentiate them! SOMETHING! I know they’re doing the finale together, but still, it’s STUPID.

shipping Rafa x green-haired drummer dude bc I can

where’s the Emmie doll for this movie?????? I’m so disappointed. also the other outfits, the leather jacket and leggings ones, I swear those weren’t dolls either. what the fuck

I see more fashionistas on billboards at the end! I really like that

so the custodian wasn’t a villain... then why that introduction for her? that went nowhere

is “Big City Big Dreams” supposed to be Emmie’s song? that Malibu lips-synced to on her vlog (apparently)? I can’t tell by the voice and they don’t list the voices for the songs in the credits

overall, once again it largely made no sense. idk if it would have benefitted from 20 extra minutes of screentime bc nothing really happened.

also, what the fuck happened to Mr Miller? he just keeps on exploiting his daughter? and for that matter, what happened to Emmie’s mom? bc she lived with her, and then all of the sudden her dad was in her life again and exploiting her, so... what did mom die? did he kill her? what am I supposed to think? and Emmie’s STILL stuck in that situation? girl. what the fuck

also of course they were too cowardly to confirm anything about Rafa. of course.

#mel irl #barbie babbles #bcbd #barbie spoilers

[thinkingimmensely]

Okay. IV

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

A/N: I have a sudden burst in inspiration and finally finished this chapter! Here’s to the hope this streak continues *crosses fingers*. I know it’s been forever and IDK if you guys still read this but I’m still trying my best to update as soon as I can, haha. I have also been reading fanfics again, thus a boost in creative juice.

Stay safe in these trying times everyone!

MATERLIST

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything from the Potterverse!

___________________

“Are you mental? What in the world were you doing back there?” You yelled as your friend laid in the sofa nonchalantly, throwing a ball up in the air and catching it as it fell back down, as if without a care in the world. You flicked your wand at the ball and it catapulted itself to the other side of the room before Sirius could even catch it again.  “Listen to me!”

“What’s the point?” He groaned and turned his back to you.  

You flicked your wand towards him and made him roll over and fall off the couch. “That was extremely rash. Careless and impatient of you.” You scolded as your friend rubbed his back in pain. “They changed the portrait,” you informed him as you ran a hand through your hair, “that annoying Sir Cadogan, still ranting on and on about knighthood I reckon.”  

“Well, you didn’t have any other brilliant idea, did you? Besides, what were you doing there in the first place?” He finally asked. When he entered the house hours ago after his failed attempt on getting inside the Gryffindor common room, he was welcomed by darkness and a letter from Dumbledore in the counter you left. It was nearly 4AM and you just arrived a few minutes ago.

“You read the letter, didn’t you? Dumbledore invited me, plus, I wanted to see Harry.” You mumbled the last part.  

Sirius smirked and approached you as you took a seat. “Did they all have their knickers in a twist?” He asked, his voice laced with mischief, as if he was actually proud with the reckless stunt he pulled.  

You couldn’t help but let out a snort, typical Black and his love to get into different heart-stopping situations. That was where he and Remus differed- Remus was your calm, and Sirius was like a whirlwind bent on destroying everything he passed through. Speaking of Remus, you still couldn’t get your meeting off of your mind, and your heart still picked up its pace every time you thought about it even though it started off the wrong foot.  

You kind of felt guilty with lying, even though what you said wasn’t technically a lie. Kind of. “Next time you try to go in, maybe try learning the password first, yeah? There’s a brilliant idea for you.” You murmured, not caring if your friend heard you or not.  

Talk around town was filled with nothing but Sirius Black the next few days. The theories on how he got in into Hogwarts became wilder and wilder that you heard a young Hufflepuff student babble on to anyone who would listen that Sirius could turn into a flowering shrub. Sirius had laughed for ten minutes straight at that. You became busier as well- McGonagall strode in one day asking to speak to you privately.

“Dumbledore has requested your presence in his office any time you are available.”  

You wiped your hands on your apron, giving your old professor a questioning look. “Um, you can tell him that I’ll be there in a few minutes then, just let me tell Madam Rosmerta-” You were about to head back inside before McGonagall cut you off.

“Actually,” She started and you stopped on your tracks and turned back to her, “I also have a request if it wouldn’t be too much for you.”

“Yes?”

She let out a sigh, “Well, I believe you are aware that Harry Potter is a Seeker in the Quidditch team?” You nodded dumbly, having no idea where this conversation was going. “Well, their first match is on Saturday and the students want to train during the evening. I have already asked Madam Hooch to oversee their sessions, but it would put me more at ease if you were there as well. For extra protection, especially since there is no sign of Black yet.”  

You blinked, processing everything she just said. She was basically asking you to keep an eye on your godson- You broke out into a smile, bobbing your head immediately, “Of course!” You stopped and regained your composure when McGonagall raised a brow at you, “I mean, yes, it’s no problem at all Professor; I’ll head to the Quidditch field every time I finish here then.”

McGonagall let out one of her rare smiles and nodded at you, she then told you she would be waiting for you so you could go to the castle together. Luckily for you, Madam Rosmerta had no qualms about you leaving early today so you left without much hassle and you and McGonagall headed to Hogwarts, making small talk here and there.

When you came here with Sirius, you didn’t expect to be going in and out of the school so much; especially since you’ve been laying low for the past ten years, leaving the Ministry and all that. “I believe you know your way from here.” McGonagall told you as you entered the castle, you nodded absentmindedly so she left you in the hall. 

The students stole glances at you as they passed by, some surely recognizing you from the Halloween feast. You stuffed your hands inside the pockets of your coat and made your way up the numerous staircases until you reached the familiar corridor that led to the Headmaster’s office.

You stood outside entrance covered by the large and ugly stone gargoyle. You were at a lost since McGonagall never mentioned the password to you. So how were you going to go inside now? Just before you turned on your heels to find someone who could get you in, the pathway opened as Remus came out looking rather under the weather. He stopped on his tracks when he saw you; he cleared his throat and fixed his tie. “Y/N” He tiredly greeted.

“Remus.” You answered with a nod. The both of you stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to talk about. You glanced behind him, at the stairway to the office, “Um, is Dumbledore available?”  

Remus turned and glanced at stairs as well, then looked at you again, “Uh- yes, yes he is, we just finished our discussion and he doesn’t have an audience now so...” He trailed off.

“Okay, I guess I should head in then.” You mumbled and walked past him before turning back, “Take care of yourself okay?” You told him. He gave you a curt nod before walking away, so you went on to your business.  

Sirius paced back and forth in the little house you shared. “Honestly, please sit down. You’re making me dizzy with all the pacing. It’s not good for the floorboards.” You snapped. He sat down next to you in the sofa and looked at you seriously. Despite the rather upbeat music that played from the radio in the corner, the room had a rather glum atmosphere.  

“Dumbledore wants you to-”  

“To patrol Hogsmeade and Hogwarts a couple of times in a week. Report to him if I find anything suspicious, or I see any clues where you might be.” You finished.

Sirius furrowed his brows, “But why? You’re not an Auror anymore, you don’t have to do shit for them.” He snarled. Because what ever did Dumbledore did for any of them when the Potters died? He gave Harry to those god-awful Muggles and hadn’t even tried to give a fair trial to Sirius.  

You looked up to your Headmaster, you always had, but sometimes... sometimes his actions frustrated the hell out of you. Sirius took your hands in his when he noticed your visibly upset face. “I shouldn’t have brought you here with me. I think they’re trying to get you back into their fold.”  

“Sirius, you must be forgetting something,” You gave him a bitter smile, “They’re not the enemy here.” Sirius sighed and dropped his head to your joined hands. You freed one and ran it through his black locks. “Besides, this just means I get to see Harry more often, and maybe help you if the situation requires it.” You smiled at the thought.  

“You’ll get to see Moony-” he mentioned, “You’re bloody miserable every time you see him again, I know you, when you came back after the feast and today, after that meeting with Dumbledore, you’ve been lost in thought. You still love him, don’t you?” He sat straight again and looked at you straight in the eye. “I don’t want to see you die a little inside every single time.”

Your smile faltered; you hadn’t realized that Sirius noticed. You thought you were being discreet about it. “I...” You inhaled sharply, “I never stopped.” You admitted for the first time, letting out a defeated breath. Your eyes watered as you tried to keep your emotions in check whenever Remus was the topic of your conversation. Sirius placed a warm hand on your cheek and wiped a stray tear away.  

“Moony’s a total git for letting you go.” He commented, you let out a dry laugh at that and he grinned. “C’mere” He pulled you up from the couch and held your hands, a playful glint in his eyes as he swayed to a different, but still upbeat song from the radio. He looked rather idiotic as he moved left to right in what could be called an impromptu dance. You laughed as he pulled you close and twirled you around at random moments, it was as if your worries and your hurt was being washed away and the once gloomy house was filled with laughter for the first time since you’ve been there. Remus, Peter, Dumbledore and the Dementors were faraway thoughts at that very moment because all you could focus on was your best friend who was swaying with you clumsily to a Muggle song the both of you didn’t even know the title of.  

As the song neared its end, your head leaned on his neck as he held you close, slowly turning with your hands still clasped together, relishing in the company and comfort the two of you gave to each other, but reality was slowly seeping back in by then and you stopped when the song ended. You pulled away from him; the two of you shared a look as static played in the background before you retreated to your bedroom, shutting the door softly behind you.  

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Permanent Taglist:

@coffeeismylife28 , @oreofrappiewithblueberry

#sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #marauders x reader #sirius black imagine #remus lupin imagine #x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Harry Potter #the prisioner of azkaban #hogwarts #peter pettigrew #the marauders

[r-redex]

If you are still doing fic request, AWO , Vincent/Leo Adopting a rescue dog( can be any breed)

Me, sobbing: please just let me write some short fluff This prompt, holding a gun to my head: plot or perish.

I’m sorry for making this so long ^^’ Anyways, this prompt killed me in every conceivable way, so thank you! It was genuinely fun to write, and I hope you like it!!

CW: (Very brief) description of animal neglect

“Leo, what the hell is this?”

Leo blinked at him, for all the world looking like an innocent man—despite the sopping wet, blanket-wrapped retriever he had just returned home with.

“I know it’s been like eighty years since you were in school,” he said, “but this, Vincent, is what they call a dog.”

“Funny,” Vincent deadpanned. He closed the door behind Leo to keep out the nearly torrential rain, grimacing when Leo knelt to place the shivering dog on the ground.

“May I ask why you thought it would be a good idea to bring a stranger’s dog into our house in the middle of a record-breaking rainstorm?”

Leo was already discarding the filthy blue blanket, tossing it to the side; it landed with a wet plop by Vincent’s feet, and he cringed.

“I don’t think she belongs to anyone,” he said, carefully running his fingers through the matted fur around the dog’s neck. “No collar. Besides, just look at her.”

Vincent had to admit that the dog did look rather worse for wear; its fur was tangled and muddy, and it was definitely quite thin. It looked up at him with big brown eyes, as if it were agreeing with Leo.

“Still,” he said, eyeing it warily, “you don’t know where it’s been. It could have fleas, or rabies, or god knows what else.”

Leo looked up at him, and Vincent was caught off guard by the intensity of his glare.

“So what, you wanna just kick her back out on the street into the rain?”

“Christ--no, Leo.” Vincent frowned, feeling a bit like he was being scolded. “But you need to think about stuff like this before you do it. We should take it to the shelter.”

Leo gave him an incredulous look.

“Are you kidding? Vince, half the city’s shut down from this rain; even if the shelter was open, there’s no way we’d be able to get there in this weather.”

“Well, we can’t just keep it here!”

“Why not?”

Vincent grit his teeth, resisting the urge to snap at him.

“Well, number one, we’re renting this house. Do you even know what the policy is on pets?”

“Do you?” Leo countered. Vincent took a deep breath.

“Number two: if it was a stray, there’s no telling what it could’ve picked up out there.”

“I’m not asking you to stick your head in her mouth,” Leo snapped. “We wash our hands regularly and make sure she doesn’t get into any of the food.”

Vincent pointed at him.

“Three: what will we feed it? It’s not like we keep dog food laying around.”

Leo huffed.

“Dogs can eat other stuff too, you know. And as soon as the rain dies down, I can run to the store and pick something up.”

“As soon as the rain dies down, we’re taking it to a shelter,” Vincent said firmly.

They stood in tense silence for a few moments, glaring. Finally, Leo sighed.

“Fine. But until then, she stays here.”

Vincent pursed his lips. It wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t like there was much of a choice.

“Fine.”

-

Leo insisted on giving the dog a bath that night, which Vincent didn’t protest--if they were going to be keeping it in the house, it might as well not be dripping mud everywhere.

Deciding to make himself useful, he opened the linen closet and started rifling through it to find some old towels or sheets they could use for a makeshift bed. Once he’d gathered a suitable pile, he made his way back down the hall. Passing the partly-open bathroom door, the sound of laughter caught his attention, and he peeked inside.

The bathroom was positively soaked--the floor, the towels, and Leo himself. He was kneeling next to the bathtub, holding a bottle of dish soap in one hand and trying to keep the dog at bay with the other. It had obviously perked up since coming into the warm house, trying to lick at Leo’s face while he scrubbed it down.

“C’mon, cut it out,” Vincent heard him chuckle. “Gotta get you all nice and clean, then you can have a little something to eat. That sound good to you?”

As if it could understand him, the dog’s tail gave a happy little wag. Leo grinned.

“Thought so.”

Vincent eased the door shut, a strange warmth in his chest.

-

To Vincent’s dismay, the rain hadn’t let up by the next morning. If anything it had gotten worse, dark clouds hanging low in the sky and the almost constant sound of rain against the windows echoing through the house.

“Said on the news that lots of roads are flooded,” Leo told him as he sat down with his toast and coffee. Vincent grimaced.

“No doubt. At this rate, even when it clears up it’s going to be a few days before everything’s dry again; not to mention how many basements have flooded, too.”

“At least we don’t have a basement to flood,” Leo joked. Vincent rolled his eyes, hiding his fond smile behind his cup of coffee.

He nearly jumped out of his seat when he felt something furry brush against his bare foot. He looked under the table to see the dog laying curled against Leo’s feet, sleeping quietly.

“Leo, why is it under the table?”

Leo shrugged.

“She wandered in while I was making breakfast. I think the storm’s scaring her; she hasn’t let me out of her sight since I got up.”

Vincent sighed, taking another look under the table. The dog definitely looked better since Leo gave it a good clean up the night before, and he figured that with some proper food and rest it would start to look like itself again.

Once they got it to the shelter, of course.

As if reading his mind, Leo piped up.

“She’s brightened up a bit since I found her. And she’s housetrained, which means someone did own her at one point.”

Vincent hummed, frowning.

“Wonder why they’d just abandon it like that.”

Leo huffed.

“I don’t know, but if I ever find them I’m going to kick their ass so hard they’ll be shitting out of their ears.”

Vincent snorted, failing to hide his grin.

“Classy.”

“I’m just saying,” Leo defended, raising his hands, “anyone who does that shit deserves to be put in their goddamn place.”

“Agreed.” While Vincent may not have been thrilled about their unexpected house guest, he wasn’t a monster.

The dog snuffled in its sleep, its tail flopping against Vincent’s foot.

-

“Vincent!”

Leo’s call rang out from the living room. Startled, Vincent poked his head inside.

“What?”

He was sitting on the couch, grinning excitedly and holding the old banjo they’d fixed up some months prior. The dog was sitting a few feet away, and it cocked its head curiously as Vincent entered the room.

“Watch this.”

Leo began to strum the banjo, playing a simple tune. As Vincent watched, the dog cautiously started walking towards the couch. Leo paused, and the dog stopped, then started again when he continued to play. He did that a few times, playing some sort of musical ‘red light, green light’ with the dog, until it was right at his feet. It laid its head on Leo’s knees, looking up at him as he finished the tune with a mellow strum.

Vincent couldn’t deny the way his heart warmed at the sight, but he still clapped sarcastically.

“Congratulations. You’re the pied piper of stray dogs.”

Leo didn’t react to the teasing as he scratched behind both of the dog’s ears, grinning at the happy thump of its tail against the carpet.

“Y’know, she looks like a Banjo.”

Vincent stared at him. “Leo, we’ve been rained in for less than a day. It’s way too early for you to be confusing animals with musical instruments.”

Leo gave him a look. It took a moment for his meaning to sink in, but when it did, Vincent’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, no. No, no no no. Leo, you are not naming it.”

“Why?” Leo ruffled the dog’s ears.

“Because we’re not keeping it.”

Tension thickened the air, the only sound the rain pounding against the window. Leo set his jaw.

“Yeah, you’ve made that plenty clear by now.”

Something in his voice made Vincent falter, but before he could analyze it, Leo was standing and brushing past him out of the room, leaving him alone with the dog.

Vincent sighed. The dog looked up at him, and Vincent had the distinct feeling he was being judged.

“Shut up,” he muttered to no one in particular.

-

Leo avoided him the rest of the day. By the time Vincent was able to get him to stay in the same room, he had already fallen asleep on the couch. The dog was, of course, laying on the floor next to him; it looked up when Vincent walked over.

He sighed, sinking down to the floor and leaning against the couch. Leo’s hand was hanging down by his face, and he gently lifted it and placed it on the cushion beside his head, giving it a fond pat.

A weight in his lap startled him. He looked down to see the dog looking up at him with big brown eyes, and he gave a reluctant smile.

“It’s not your fault,” he muttered, giving the dog a few gentle pats. “I’m...not used to dogs.”

The dog, of course, just stared. Vincent laughed under his breath.

“He loves you already, though. You must not be so bad.”

His smile fell, and he sighed.

“Though, maybe I’m not the best example.”

As if she could sense his sadness, the dog nuzzled closer to him and closed her eyes. With a soft hum, Vincent scratched her behind the ear as he leaned back against the couch.

“Not so bad at all.”

-

Despite Vincent being the one who fell asleep on the floor, Leo looked like the walking dead as he dragged himself into the kitchen the next morning. Vincent looked up at him from where he leaned against the counter, giving him an amused once-over.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Leo grumbled. Vincent chuckled into his cup of coffee--at least he didn’t seem upset anymore.

“I hope you’re planning on changing your clothes before we go.”

Leo frowned at him, blearily rubbing his eyes.

“What?”

Vincent gestured to the window, where the heavy rainclouds had been replaced by a bright blue sky.

“Rain’s let up, and I called ahead to the shelter.”

Leo seemed to deflate.

“Oh. Right.”

“...They redirected me to the veterinarian, but luckily they’re open too.”

Vincent had to work to keep his straight face as he watched Leo process the words.

“What? Why?”

Vincent took a sip of his coffee.

“Well, they don’t do vaccinations at the shelter, and she should get a checkup and maybe some vitamins.” He nodded to the dog, who had padded into the room to sniff at Leo’s socked feet when she’d heard him walk in.

Leo looked at him suspiciously, but Vincent could see the faintest trace of hope in his eyes.

“Why do we need all that?”

Vincent let himself break into a grin then.

“As much as I love you, I think we could both do with the help of a trained professional to take care of our dog.”

Leo stared at him for a few long moments, face blank. Then he crossed the floor in three big steps, grabbed Vincent’s face, and kissed him hard.

“You mean it?” he asked breathlessly, a brilliant grin on his face. “We’re keeping her?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Fucking--yes, of course! Oh my god--”

Vincent laughed as Leo kissed him again.

“Go change,” he said, gently pushing him back. “Don’t want the vet mistaking you for the stray.”

“Fuck off,” Leo laughed. He gave Vincent one last peck on the lips before hurrying off to their bedroom.

Vincent set his coffee down on the counter, still smiling. A gentle nudge at his leg made him look down.

“Don’t worry, Banjo,” he said softly, reaching down to ruffle her ears. “You’re home now.”

#a way out fanfic #a way out oneshot #vincent x leo #vincent/leo #reqs

[stxvercgersslut]

Promises 1/2

[Gif Not Mine]

Pairing: Dad! Ransom x Daughter! Reader

Description: During your sophomore year your father discovers that you are coming home with more and more bruises everyday. Once he finds out where those bruises are coming from he won’t be accountable from his actions.

Warnings: Mentions of bruises, mentione of scars,

A/n: this is my first series like this that I’ve ever made so I hope that you guys enjoy this. If you do enjoy this and it doesn’t flop then I may start a Mini series with Chris Evans characters and Daughter! Reader in different scenarios. Let me know what you think. Sorry it’s short 🥺

A/n: For this particular part the reader is 16 and in 10th Grade (year 11 in England but this is based in America) and Ransom is 37 meaning that he was 21 when y/n was born. In case anyone cares 😂 (when it’s just speech bold italics means Ransom and normal means you

Tag list: @jtargaryen18 @et-lesailes @evansxxx @stargazingfangirl18 @navybrat817 @chuckbass-love @t-stark35

When someone thinks of the perfect father they most certainly would never let the first person they think of be Hugh Ransom Drysdale. In fact no one would ever picture the trustfund Playboy to be the perfect father in anyway shape or form. Let alone love a child at all or even be a father in the first place. To many, even his family, Ransom was nothing but an arrogant prick who cared little about anyone else and more about himself. Which for the most part unfortunately had been extremely true, especially due to the god awful way that his mother and father had neglected him leaving him to be raised by his grandfather. Although, that unfortunately ended with the trustfund baby growing up to recsent every last one of his family members including his mother and father.

However, all of that changed when you, a new born baby, was left on his doorstep almost 17 years ago today. Of course at first he’d been reluctant to take care of you, thinking you were nothing other then a god awful result to a stupid one night stand that he most certainly didn’t want to look after you. Especially since you were a chubby baby who did nothing but scream, poop and cry whenever you needed something.

You weren’t his, not in his mind. You may have been made from half of him but as far as Ransom has been concerned you were nothing a pest that he wanted to get rid of. Being a father was never something that he wanted, but being a single father was even worse. After less than a week the Male had grown tired of the constant sleepless nights that you brought. Always either needing feeding , changed or plated with and Ransom just couldn’t do it. That wasn’t the life that he wanted but it was the life that he got. And no matter how many times he tried to get rid of you he just couldn’t go through with it. At one point he’d even attempted to call child services after a particular rough night where you had kept him up all night the day before a very important at meal with his family , he’d gotten so close to calling but then...oh then you did the most adorable thing. You just had to go and grab his finger whilst he was feeding you. That in itself was enough to melt the playboys usually hollow heart. From that day forward Ransom had vowed to protect you from all demons. No matter the cost.

Sadly that promise was one that he had failed to keep. For weeks now you’ve been arriving home to your fathers huge house, on the outskirts of New York, with either new bruisee or new scars covering your body and Ransom had just about had enough of seeing his teenage daughter coming home everyday in pain.Seeing you, his daughter, in pain or even just covered in bruises every single time you csme home from school was beginning to anger the Male even more then he had expected. Especially since he could hear you crying yourself to sleep each night, resulting in him practically begging you to open your door to let him. But you never did. Too afraid that he would judge you for crying so much over some stupid teenagers who had taken a joke way too far for way too long. Although Ransom adored you in every single way that one could ever love their child, he could still be quite stern when he needed to. Sometimes he didn’t no that he was being unreasonable to his own flesh and blood, but that was just unfortunately the part of Drysdale’s personality that he couldn’t change no matter how hard he tried. One particular thing Ransom couldn’t handle was tears, even when you were baby he seemed to just shut himself off when you cried. Not knowing how to deal with you. But now you were a 16 year old teenager who was crying every night and coming home covered in battle scars and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

Which was why, currently, Ransom was sitting in his Beamer, parked right outside your extremely expensive private school that Ransom had of course preferred you going to, as he waited not so patiently for you to exit the school. Yeah he hadn’t actually told you that he was coming to pick you up since it was a last minute decision but he wasn’t really expecting you to turn down a quick and easy lift home. Besides, he wasn’t just there to pick you up. No he was really there to get to the bottom of what the hell was happening and why on Earth you kept getting hurt.

Meanwhile, you were currently none the wiser about your father waiting impatiently outside the schools gates in his Beamer whilst you sat in the nurses office for the millionth time this year. Today a couple seniors had cornered you during lunch, teasing you and talking about your father as well as the rest of your family like they were a piece of meat. It wasn’t fair. But unfortunately the comment “Your dads probably disgusted by you! He’ll never be proud of you so you might as well just give up now” made by Darcy, the ‘popular girl’ had been enough to hit a nerve with you. Causing you to, for the first time, punch Darcy square in the face as an attempt to defend yourself. But, like anyone could imagine, that just didn’t end well. In fact, it ended so badly that you were currently sporting a incredibly painful black eye, a split lip and a couple scratch marks from Darcys razor sharp nails. Things like this had been happening for months, even longer then Ransom had ever known. Why was t the school doing anything? Well that was easy. Darcys father was the principle and in his eyes his daughter could do no wrong. Even if she did break your nose several times. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call your father Y/n?” The nurse spoke, pulling you out of your nightmare of a trance as she handed up a clean paper towel to wrap around the ice pack. This was by far the worst incident so far and yet no one was doing anything about it. Clearly the school wasn’t as good as Ransom thought. “N.... no...I don’t want to worry him...thank you though” you stuttered whilst wiping the stray tears from your eyes as you finally stood up on shaky legs as the bell rang, signalling the end of yet another horrific day.

Ransom was stood directly outside the school gates by the time you had finally managed to convince the school nurse that you’d be fine, of course not expected to see him there but also equally delighted that he was. Maybe with Ransom there you’d be able to escape any last minute torture from Darcy right? “Hey d—“ you began before being interrupted by your fathers worried words “Y/n what the hell happened to you? Who did this?” The anger evident in his voice no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. And believe me he really did try to conceal it. This question in itself was enough to startle you. Oh no...this wasn’t good at all. If your father found out about what Darcy and her friends had been doing to you for the last few months then it would 100% end badly. Which would most likely result in you being pulled from the school. Not that you’d mind that. But despite the bullying you did have friends here. Whom of which you did not want to leave. “N..no one I....I just fell” you lied. And not very creatively at that since Ransom seemed to pick up on your attempt to conceal the truth because without another word you were slung over your fathers shoulder and taken into the school kicking and screaming. This time Ransom wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Y/n don’t lie to me! We have rules for a reason. Come on what’s going on?! Who did this? Who hurt you? The quicker we fix this the quicker whoever did this to you gets punished and the quicker I can get you out of this school for good” Ransom explained as he finally put you down in your normal classroom. God he really did sound like a father now which was enough to make even the 37 year old himself cringe. Never had he ever sounded so weak. But at least he had a good reason.

“Dad I told you No on—“

“I know what you told me y/n but I’m not buying it! So tell me the truth!”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why y/n?!?”

“Why do you want to know so bad?”

Okay now he was starting to lose his patience. Judging by your stubbornness, which you had most certainly inherited from him, this wasn’t going to end anytime soon. In fact if you had it your way you’d most likely be answering him with the same damn response of hours. “Because you’re my daughter? Believe it or not I actually care about you y/n and seeing you come home from school covered in bruises or hearing you crying every single night isn’t nice okay!?? Please just tell me who hurt you? You’re not in trouble right now but if you don’t tell me who hurt you then you will be!” Now he really did sound like a worried father, something that he’d never been shown as a child. No worry was ever emitted from either of his parents so of course he had no idea where all of this was coming from.

You froze, hearing your own father admit that he had heard you crying each night and saw the new bruises that you seemed to come home with seemed to break your heart. Which was of course when you realised just how much Ransom really did care about you. How the he’ll had you not know this all along? Were you just blind? Maybe you were. “You promise I’m not in trouble?” “I promise now who did this to you?”

It took you almost 2 whole hours to finally admit everything to your father about how Darcy had been tormenting you for months on end, even going as far as saying cruel things about him you really anger you just to get a response. You even admitted to why you’d been crying each night. Trying to keep yourself as calm as physically possible since you didn’t want to worry him too much.

But unfortunately the ship had sadly sailed since Ransom was currently seeing red. How had he been so dumb? How on earth had he not thought that you could have been getting bullied? But most importantly why wasn’t Darcy being punished if she had her. Caught several times abusing his daughter? She hose questions continued to swim in his mind as he tried to listen to you. His mind completely filled with range once you’d finally finished speaking. “You’re leaving this school! And I’m calling the police. Clearly school isn’t doing anything about this. So we’re suing!” He spoke unexpectedly. Giving you no other choice but to just go with it. And that’s exactly what he did. Yes it was extremely drastic and most certainly not the right way to go around this situation but if it meant that you would be safe and that Darcy would get fairly punished then Ransom would try anything.

Of course what he really wanted to do was kill that Bitch Darcy, or just brutally injure her for ever even laying a finger on you. But she was only a teenager. If He did that then of course he’d go to prison and you’d have no one, resulting in you either ending up with his parents or in care. Neither of which he wanted for you. So, in order to make sure that he stuck around to make up for his failed promise he just kept his word and sued the school for all it was worth.

#chris evans #chris evans cute #chris evans hot #daddy! chris evans #his laugh though 🥺 #chris evans characters #chris evans x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x you #Dad! Ransom Drysdale x daughter! reader #chris evans x daughter! reader #chris evans x you

[melissanovels]

♡ Here they are!! Chapters 1 & 2 of TRANSIENT TIME TRAVELLER are out! ♡

○ Read on my Website ○ Read on Tumblr (below) ○ Read on Ao3 ○ 

TTT  is an LGBTQ+ historical fantasy novel about Aida, a time traveller hellbent on proving the innocence of a 1,200-year-old dead queen, and Lorian, an escaped princess-turned-officer who wants to drain the royal blood from their body, & the two coming together with the help of their mischievous future selves.

♡ Reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Read Chapter 1 + 2 Below:

Chapter 1: Six Weeks Before

Aida’s life was forever changed when she received a letter in the mail.

She never got letters. Being adopted into a small family in a smaller farm in Bělico didn’t bless her with birthday gifts or congratulatory mail. She estimated that no one other than her stepmother and her stepsisters knew of her existence, so Aida ghosted through life without much interference.

But she knew this letter, had been anticipating it for weeks since she’d sent in her application under her mother’s nose. It was handwritten on high-quality paper, the feeling new to her, foreign, and was branded with the seal of the Roman lion. She’d dreamt of getting these royal letters in the mail, wishful hope turning into dread come nighttime, but she hadn’t thought she'd receive a reply, let alone a letter of acceptance.

She’d been tending to the farm, or the cows, mainly. The chickens, pigs, sheep, and goats had been taken care of and her stepmother and stepsisters had their two horses out on a carriage ride to the village, so all that was left to handle was their five highland cows. Big, burly creatures more fur than hide. It took Aida more time to heave the heavy bales of hay into their stables, to groom them, wash them, clean out their troughs. She’d hadn’t even heard the post carrier arrive, she’d been on the other side of the property. When she realized her family would be home soon, she hurried to get everything done so her stepmother would be in a better mood.  Well, a less shit one.

There was one piece of mail that day, and it’d been addressed to Aida.

When her mother and sister finally came home and found Aida on the floor, frantically rereading the letter with the envelope torn with her teeth, they must’ve assumed she’d had jumped and was writhing in pain as a result.

She was writhing, but not because she’d travelled backwards in time. Her brain was spinning, eyes watering due to some type of emotion she couldn’t name. After fighting for years, she’d finally earned this damned six-year scholarship to Durante Academy.

Not that wanting to dorm at a school named after King Durante’s lineage was something she was excited about. She detested almost everything the royal family did, and she didn’t even live in Roma. Roma, or Roma City, was 1,500 kilometers away, across the sea and doing far better for itself than her home country of snow-covered farmlands. She should’ve loathed becoming a student in the country with the bloodiest warpath, the worst, most prejudiced ruler, and the shittiest armed forces since the time of gladiators.

But how she’d dreamed of walking through those academic halls, taking in the prestigious lessons in fervor and staying up late to perfect a soon-to-be perfectly marked test. Schools in Bělico, you were expected to drop out of after primary school to work your family’s farms. It made sense for some people. Agriculture was the biggest export for the country, so families expected many hands to tend to the fields.

But that wasn’t Aida’s path. Ever since she’d been adopted, Aida Mirko had set her sights on becoming a historian, and that path was only attainable in the sparkling, problematic country of Roma.

It was only after Aida heard her mother slam the door did she realize her mistake: being indulgent.

“What’re y’all doing?” one of her stepsisters, Ekaterina, asked.

“You tracked in mud,” her other sister, Olga, said. She had her upper lip curled as she looked over where Aida had run in from the fields.

Her mother looked over the mess Aida had made, then at the letter still in her hand.

Then she slapped her across the cheek and sent her glasses across the living room.

She should’ve expected it. How dare her. Here she was, trying to better herself in a world where most people wanted her kind dead, and she’d just been accepted into one of the world’s most prestigious academies known in Roma. It had only a seven percent acceptance rate. To any parent, that would’ve been cause for celebration.

Her mother grabbed Aida by the collar and dragged her upstairs to her room. Her mother and sisters lived downstairs near the warm fireplaces, while Aida had the joy of taking the stairs she struggled with and lived in the cold attic at the top of the steps. She had a fucking cane and a limp, and these people couldn’t care less.

“Mo’mma, wait—”

Her mother slammed the bedroom door behind her. “How dare you?”

Aida fell backwards into her bed.

“You ain’t going,” she decided. “You have obligations here. You work the farm, you care for us. How selfish can you be, leaving all of that to become a damned academic?”

“I want…to be a historian,”  Aida said, trying so hard to carefully explain something she’d wanted for years. With her limp, it was difficult to do any sort of manual labor. She got tired easily, her dizzy spells were becoming more frequent. Her sisters, they weren’t expected to do half the chores she was forced to do, yet she did them. She hated herself, but she did as she was told because it gave her a roof over her head and food on the table and a bed to dream about a life better than this. In the rare hours she had for sleep, she studied and overworked her abilities to prove that a Visatorre deserved to learn, something that’d been barred from her people for centuries.

She didn’t expect praise, or admiration. She couldn’t dream like that. All she wished was for her mother to stop hitting her. She didn’t know why she was selfish asking that. 

Her mother stood tall over her. “You ain’t going.”

Aida fixed her broken glasses over her nose. “I was accepted.”

“I ain’t paying for it.”

“I know that.”

“What do you mean ‘I know that’? You won’t be able to afford it. The journey ’cross the sea alone is ten gold.”

To her mother, it’d seem that way, but Aida had been saving up. For years, she’d been putting away her childhood allowance underneath the broken floorboard next to her bed. After turning fifteen, her mother had stopped paying her for her work. Aida had thought it was because her mother had finally seen her as a daughter more than a servant. Then she found out Ekaterina’s and Olga’s allowance had doubled.

So, she’d taken to writing school papers for the local village kids. Those who were able to write had trouble forming their thoughts in persuasive essays, so Aida wrote them top-grade papers about history, war, massacres of her own people and the rise of these dictatorships she hated, all behind her mother’s back. If her mother had found that out, she would’ve thrown Aida into the village stockades for lying because “Visatorre folk weren’t smart like normal folk.”

“I have the money,” Aida summarized.

“I don’t care if you got a fortune! Y’all ain’t gonna throw away your life and waste it on an academy when you’re needed here.”

“I’ll be gone, isn’t that what you’d want?” she shot back, the fear of speaking back pitching her voice. “I’ll be gone for six whole years, and I swear, whatever money I make—”

“‘Money I make’, she says. What money you gonna make there? You know Roma don’t take well to you folk as well as Bělico people do. You’ll be ridiculed. You’ll be ostracized.”

“So how different would it be from here?” Aida wanted to ask. Circa, how she wished she was brave enough to say that. If she’d been high, that defiance would’ve come out, but it would’ve only resulted in her being hit harder.

Aida lowered her head, feigning a defeat.

Her mother harrumphed and tied up her brown hair in a messy bun. “That’s what I thought. Now.” She held out her hand. Aida flinched. “Give me that letter.”

“No,” Aida said. “Please, just…let me keep it. For memory’s sake.”

Her mother rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on her apron. “Get up and help with the groceries, since you didn’t want to help when we came in. The rest are in the carriage.”

Aida nodded and went for her cane. It was a dark, simple thing made from a tree branch in the woods around them.

Her mother kicked it and knocked it into the wall. The force made it tip and spill Aida’s half-filled drinking glass to the ground.

Aida froze.

“Realize your stance in this house,” her mother warned, “and stop making such foolish decisions behind my back.”

“I will,” Aida said, and waited for her mother to leave down the stairs, where she heard her sisters whispering about what their mother had just told their servant daughter.

She gripped her cane as tightly as she could. The one thing about being in your twenties was that, while you might’ve been afraid of your parents and they’d wrecked your self-confidence and self-worth beyond recognition for more than a decade, if you had the money and the drive to defy the Gods, you could change your future for the better.

After hearing her mother leave, Aida went for her travel bags.

---------------------------

Nights at the Mirko household came early, as they—she—had to get up at four in the morning to take care of the livestock. Feed them, gather the eggs, change the hay, sweep out both barns, weed out the gardens. Aida half-expected her mother to put more energy into their own livelihood instead of working on how to destroy her own daughter’s confidence, but she couldn’t expect much of anything from them anymore.

Aida knew she was smart. She wouldn’t have gotten her scholarship if she hadn’t been. All the years of extra-credit and letter after letter of recommendations had paid off. It didn’t matter what her mother thought of her. She would reclaim her dignity without her.

The night she received her letter, Aida woke up at three and began packing. It’d taken a chunk of her savings to leave now, as she’d planned to leave later towards the school year where travel costs decreased, but she’d manage. She always did. She currently had seventy pieces of gold lyria to her name. It wasn’t much—it barely covered a month’s worth of groceries for her family—but if she used it right, it’d get her a life without them in it.

Because, in all her twenty-three years of living, she knew that “family” could go fuck themselves with how much good they did for her.

She dressed in a black dress fit for the night and braided her hair in her favorite way, down her front in two braids that never seemed even. She was bigger than most girls: both of her sisters’ weights combined. She hoped the school uniforms could accommodate her, and that they weren’t tacky. She needed a self-esteem boost, not a downgrade from what clothes she’d been given.

After packing her non-essentials, she got to work packing the more important items: her journals, thick with cut-outs and pictures from used books she’d pasted into it; her history texts on the once luxurious country of Siina and its murdered queen; the first book in the En Tempore Rose sextet, Pinnacle Isle; and the signed playbooks from the opera-ballet adaptation she’d bartered for in exchange for an eight-page essay.

She’d gone to see the opera once, and by “seen,” she meant she’d snuck away into the theatre for ten minutes during a family trip to Roma City when she was six. It’d been during a trading festival where they earned their summer wealth. She’d snuck into the massive theater constructed within the colosseum and caught the last few minutes of the performance before being discovered.

She’d been beaten so hard that she didn’t remember much of the opera, but she remembered loving it. Those few minutes near the stage that made her heart stop and restart with the love of her favorite stories, both real and imaginary. The ballerinas dressed in snow-white lace, the glitter that danced from the rafters.  It’d sparked her desire to be a ballerina before she found out that Visatorre were neither allowed to be performers on the stage nor were they allowed to even watch a costly opera to begin with. They were a “risk” to those around them if they travelled backwards into time.

At least she had her journals. She had a dozen or so hand-bound journals she’d made herself because God knew her mother wouldn’t have bought them for her. They detailed her favorite moments in history. Nothing of wars or tyrannical, egotistical kings she couldn’t stand learning about. She was interested in the people, the interpersonal relationships between the royal families and their citizens. Their dresses, the food they ate, the ways they lived their menial lives a millennia ago.

And Eve, a magnificent, tolerant queen to a dead city-state that once held 100,000 Visatorre within its peaceful walls. Aida loved her, knew everything about her life from the minute she was born to the day she was executed. Her city-state, Siina, had once been a well-established community within Roma that could’ve rivaled the country in time.

History said Eve had murdered the Roman king’s wife, so in retaliation, he’d killed her, her lineage, and all 100,000 Visatorre of Siina, burying them within the Catacombs underneath Roma City.

Aida knew for a fact that that part of history was wrong. She’d written papers and thesis on Eve for years, and she couldn’t see the dead queen dipping so far as to murder someone she should’ve seen as an ally. She’d been a young, proud, dedicated Visatorre that housed and raised and loved the biggest population of Visatorre the world had ever seen. Yes, she was rash with some of her decision-making, and she might’ve been labeled “eccentric” in today’s terms, but to murder someone so powerful for no reason, it didn’t add up. It didn’t make sense.

So, Aida was bent on becoming a historian, to rewrite the history books with the truth rather than the propagated schlock crammed down their throats.

After zipping up her final bag, she readied her three-kilometer-long walk to the village. It was mostly leveled terrain, but still, it always burdened her legs. One bad jump six years ago had fucked up her hips, or her back, or her spine, or all three, given her exceptionally bad luck. No doctor had a concrete reason as to why Visatorre were injured when they jumped into the past, they only knew the farther back you went, the worse you came back. Some Visatorre who’d jump 100, 200 years back would come back burning from the inside or with missing limbs, screaming in pain until they needed to take something to their skull to mask the pain. Aida, with all that was stacked up against her, always considered herself lucky that she only needed a cane to get around.

She closed the garden gates slowly, taking the back entrance so she didn’t wake the easily spooked ducks. No more farmlands, no more chores done by six and being hit behind closed doors. Despite years of fucking up, making her think she was useless, too slow, too stupid to be anything more than a servant in her own home, Aida was to mentally burn this place to the ground with her accomplishments.

Or physically, if she became so bold and dire for actual jail time.

She paused at the start of the cow field, eyes darting left and right. While she wouldn’t burn down the farm—she couldn’t hurt the animals—she could do something else. Something more.

She crept into the chicken coop and burgled twenty-four of the largest eggs, enough to keep her fed for a few days, and another six for the carriage. Not hers, but her mother’s, or the one she’d already promised for Olga when she eventually married. Keeping her movements quiet, Aida smashed her extra eggs into the seats and dug the yolk deep into the hides. Then she took charcoal she always kept in her dress pockets and ruined one side of the barn in graffiti. She dumped the milk she’d gotten for that day, she let the chickens loose from the coop. Dumped the drinking water over the hay, overturned the trough. Everything she could do to make her family’s life horrible, but not enough to send an officer after her.

If they connected it to a Visatorre’s doing, she might’ve had one on her tail. Luckily, she wasn’t planning on ever coming back.

She paced herself as she made her way into the village. Idti, a racist outcropping of 500 farmers who’d sell their own daughters for a lick of gold. She kept a knife in her pocket when walking down the dirt roads, waiting to hear someone run up behind her and rob her. Luckily, the carriage house she was planning on using was close to the main road. Beyond the village stretched out a long path to the sea. She could almost smell the cold, salty air.

One driver was smoking near his carriage and reading the paper with his boots kicked up. As Aida neared with lantern and cane in hand, he gave her a look. He made no attempt to hide his ogling at her Visatorre marking: a white circle engraved in the middle of her forehead. Every Visatorre obtained one the first time they travelled, but that didn’t stop non-Visatorre from staring like she had three legs.

“I need a ride to the harbor,” Aida said, keeping her face devoid of emotion.

“Now?” the driver asked.

“Not yesterday,” she said, and gave him three of her gold lyria coins. “The quicker, the better.”

At the sight of priceless gold, the driver instantly folded his paper and sat up. “You’re the Visatorre girl who works up at that farm, ain’t you?”

“Aye.” She took out one of her own cigarettes and had him light it for her. She needed one after this week, and her mother hated the smell in the house. “Let’s say I got fired.”

“Didn’t you live there?”

“Didn’t you need to bring me to the harbor?”

The man clicked his tongue and helped her with her bags.

She took one long inhale as she surveyed the land. The morning birds had yet to begin their songs, and the lack of light let the Moon and stars shine over the country, painting it a deep blue.

“Did you hear the news?” the driver asked, making unneeded small talk. “The princess of Roma, Lucia, she just went missing. Paper’s sayin’ she vanished from her own wedding. Say she got kidnapped or something.”

“Wouldn’t be a change from what we see,” Aida said. While the royal family now was in charge of what she did, she didn’t care for them nearly as much as she cared for the dead ones. The dead ones had more of a history to them that always intrigued her. Plus, she never saw the two twin princesses. One had been married off to the shitstain of Bělico’s King Dmitri as a kid, the other barely left the palace. What was the difference if she went missing?

“Do you think they’ll find her?” asked the driver.

In the distance, Aida saw the faint outline of her home. Her mother’s home—it had never belonged to her. Her mother had tried to be a good mother when she’d first adopted Aida, but the years had tainted her into a villain Aida couldn’t wait to see get their comeuppance.

She gave her home the finger and hopped into the carriage. “Who cares about some dumb princess?”

----------------------------------

Chapter 2: Six Weeks Before, Continued

Lorian had dreamed about escaping her bedroom through the window. She never thought it would be her last-ditch effort to save her life.

She wasn’t in life-threatening danger. She wasn’t going to die if she stayed the night. Acted proper. Went back downstairs and apologized to her wedding guests, and let Prince Zaahir take her hand like she’d been proclaimed to do since she was six.

That wouldn’t kill her per se, but if it came to that, she’d kill herself. No remorse, no second thoughts. She’d warned her parents that if they followed through with the marriage, it would’ve been the final straw out of the many that they’d already broken for her.

Well, her father had. Everyone knew that despite being the reigning queen, it was Lorian’s father who controlled the country.

That night, after tearing up the wedding dress and ruining every last piece of notable art she had left in her bedroom, Lorian had collapsed into her bed and sobbed so hard, she’d thrown up. Out of everything her parents forced her through, this marriage was the one constant. Let her ruin her dresses, let her throw her infamous temper tantrums hidden from the country. But this marriage, just like her sister’s, would happen. Alliances needed to be formed between the three major countries of the world to keep war at bay, and it’d happen whether she liked it or not. Country before individual. Alliances before children.

The only way out was death.

She’d contemplated it, then kicked herself and fought for another way out. She couldn’t end it here. She had to show her parents that she did have aspirations, just ones outside of royal duties.

The giant clock just outside of Lorian’s room chimed for eleven. Per Roman customs, the wedding kiss would occur at the stroke of midnight, and so far, Lorian hadn’t let any of her maids or officers near her. Not even her own family had come into her room, though they’d tried.

First, her mother, whose frail knocks almost made her heart break. Then her twin sister, Beatrice, born only twelve minutes earlier and thus married off first to a man older than their father. Her methodical, emotionless explanation as to why this needed to marry Zaahir made Lorian break a vase to get her to stop talking.

Carmine was the last person to come. He was the queen’s right-hand man—a Constable, the highest rank given to officers—and childhood friend of the queen. He was the most sympathetic about Lorian’s plight, she’d give him that, but he, like the rest of them, told her to come downstairs and finish what was destined for her. He used to be better, back when he was more a family friend who wasn’t weighed down my medals of honor, but those days were gone, as was Carmine’s carefree nature. It’d been replaced with duties that outweighed Lorian’s happiness.

Her father didn’t come up to check on her.

But she didn’t need any more of his anger tonight. Nobody could talk her into this. She had her mind set, and it was anywhere else but this godforsaken palace.

The only one she’d let come near was Missus Sharma. She’d been Lorian’s and Beatrice’s nursemaid since they were in the womb. She’d taught Lorian mathematics, both the piano and violin, and had guided Lorian through speech therapy to get rid of her lisp yet failed. She also knew almost all of Lorian’s secrets, all of her hidden passions without the threads of marriage and princesshood dragging her down.

Lorian had told her, last year, that she didn’t want to be a princess any longer.

“I know your frustrations, Your Highness,” she’d said, this sixty-year-old maid who deserved so much more than what Lorian gave her.

She didn’t know, however, so when Lorian explained more, that she didn’t want to be a princess, or Lucia, or only a woman but something more, something different, that’d puzzled her. Her generation still lived in the mindset that’d fizzled out during this ruling—people could be who they wanted to be, whether they were a boy, girl, neither, or something in-between.

Those rights weren’t given to royal heirs, especially when it involved the procreation of royal children.

Lorian held her stomach as she thought of a way out of this. Even though she was still figuring out her identity, she was sure as fuck not marrying Zaahir for the sole purpose of bearing children. That thought was so far out of her comfort zone, it was off her radar.

Frustrated by her dwindling time limit, Lorian groaned, took the last of her pillows she hadn’t torn, and threw it against her writing desk. It scattered the letters she’d tried to write to her parents only for her to rip them up because, while his mother might hear her out, her father wouldn’t listen. He never did.

A letter fell to her ornate rug. It was hidden behind one of her jewelry boxes and slipped out when the box fell. It didn’t have a name on it, but it’d been stamped with her family’s seal.

Curious, Lorian picked it up.

Out the window & down to the forest.

Good luck.

She flipped over the note to read the rest, but that was it. It wasn’t even signed, meaning the person didn’t want to be traced back. She examined the handwriting, but that didn’t click either. It looked like the person, whoever had written it, had concealed their own personhood to make the letter untraceable.

She looked back at her door. It was locked, as well as barricaded with her wardrobe. Nobody was coming in any time soon.

She crept towards the window that faced the outer walls. In the past, they were meant to keep enemies out, like the fallen city-state of Siina. It’d once been a wealthy state where most of the Visatorre population lived some 1,200 years back. Tensions back then had been high, she was taught. Visatorre were seen as part-God, part-monster, these people who could travel, or “jump,” back in time for hours to witness a single moment in history. Stories had been created around them, painting them as the voyeuristic, nosy ghosts that deserved all the pain their jumps caused them.

Her father despised time travellers for their unpredictable powers, but he never brought it up to the public. They were a reminder of a bloody history most Romans wanted to forget, but Lorian hadn’t forgotten. She knew that the queen of Siina had murdered the Roman king due to some type of disagreement, and as punishment, she, her lineage, and all 100,000 Siinans had been brutally slaughtered in an unfair and unjust bloodbath.

Lorian grit her teeth. She hated it. She’d hated it ever since it was taught to her by her scholars and meant to sound like a victory. It wasn’t. It was the royal family’s insatiable bloodlust, and it was all the more reason why she wanted nothing more to do with the crown trying to be placed over her head.

The orchestra music from her own wedding ceremony echoed from outside. Six hundred people had been invited and were likely all dining and eating and placing bets as to whether or not Lorian would come down by midnight.

So it was odd that out of all of these guests and bustling maids and officers in the palace tonight, nobody saw Lorian’s horse, Ether, nibbling on the flowers next to the palace walls. She was bridled and had on her saddle, but it wasn’t the official, royally-sanctioned one with all the gold and rubies stitched into it, it was Lorian’s personal riding one that was worn and made of coarse leather.

And attached to Lorian’s windowsill, weighted down so as not to blow in the summer night air, was a silk bedsheet tied into other bedsheets: a less than perfect escape ladder.

Lorian pressed her lips together. Who’d set this up for her? She’d dreamed of this day for years, and it only became more real that week.

She touched the start of the makeshift ladder. It’d been tied several times behind her window and secured behind the jewelry box. Not even Missus’ Sharma would’ve seen anything awry.

Lorian turned so quickly on her heel, she tripped on the rug given to her by her mother’s mother. She pulled out the drawers of her second wardrobe not currently holding back the only door to the room and packed what she considered to be her real clothes. No dresses, nothing that was too uncomfortable to wear. She did pack her corsets to bind her chest and hide her hips. She didn’t hate her body; her boobs were fun to play with when she was in the bath or getting ready for bed. They just meant too much to her past self, and she didn’t want to remember that.

She would no longer be Lucia Maria Carolus Durante di Romano, future princess to the country of Roma and Aldaí.

She would be Lorian. Lorian…

Something. If she was going to run away, she’d have to change her surname, but she’d only landed on “Lorian” when she was a child, a nonsense name that meshed her name with Carmine’s father’s name. That was back when she respected him.

Despite living here all her life, she had nothing of real importance. Clothing she felt comfortable in, 350 pieces of gold lyria she kept in case she ever decided to really run away, utensils—she ate quite a lot in her room. She grabbed documents with her father’s and Carmine’s signatures in case she needed to forge them for her new life, and she kept her signet ring and skeleton key because she was sentimental like that. She had her dagger because her rapiers would be too long and too distracting on the run. She wouldn’t need a map because she knew the whole layout of the kingdom by heart. As for her underwear…

She looked at the dagger in her hand, then at herself in the mirror. The blond hair she’d tied up in a ponytail to get it out of her face still curled to the middle of her back. She liked her hair; it was a staple for Roman women to keep it long. Her mother’s must’ve been worth something for how beautiful it was, reaching her thighs in elegant waves, and her sister’s must’ve taken hours to prepare every day with all the braids and swoops she kept it in.

Lorian gripped the handle of her blade. She didn’t think it over because she knew she’d regret it. Nobody in the kingdom could know she was Lucia. If she were to live as Lorian, Lucia needed to die.

Her locks fell around her in spirals. Her head instantly felt lighter than it had in years, but she knew it didn’t look right. One part was uneven, the next cut too close to her scalp. She didn’t touch her bangs, as Missus Sharma had just styled them the day before, and when she was done, she didn’t look back in the mirror. She retied it into a small ponytail. Her neck felt cold yet free, another chain broken.

Someone knocked on her door.

She nestled her knife against her thigh.

“Your Highness, are you alright?”

The voice, so sweet and motherly, Lorian knew it better than her own mother’s.

“Yes, Missus Sharma,” she called out, and slowly opened her window all the way. Her curtains fluttered. It kissed her cheeks, her newly uncovered neck.

“I don’t want you to feel alone right now. I know this’s terrifying for you, and unfair. Oh, sweetheart, I know. Can you talk to me? Have you eaten?”

Lorian lifted one leg over the windowsill. She’d once climbed out of this window as a child to the giant clock tower above. When they’d found her, her father had slashed her palms. It seemed so much easier as a thirteen-year-old. “I have, and I’m alright now.” She dared a peek down the four stories and closed her eyes. It wasn’t high up. It wasn’t that high. “I’ll be okay.”

“Do you need anything from me right now?”

She swung the rest of her body out of the window. Vertigo hit her like a crashing wave. She wrapped both arms around the blanket and gave a firm tug. “No. You’ve done enough for me this week, and I do appreciate all that you’ve done.” She put more of her weight on the bedsheet ladder, then more. “G-go tell my mother and father that…I’m contemplating coming down soon.”

“Oh, you are?” Missus Sharma asked. “How wonderful! Let me bring them up.”

“I-I’ll just need a minute,” she called out, hoping her voice wouldn’t travel. “Do give me that, okay, Missus Sharma?”

“Of course, Your Highness. Oh, their Majesties will be so thrilled.”

“I’ll bet,” Lorian muttered under her breath, and looked down. What was four stories, really, other than a two-second drop to your crushing, painful death?

She bit her lower lip, said a prayer to any God that would hear her, and let gravity take her down.

Her boot snagged on a jutting brick  and, while it might’ve been a two-second controlled fall, it felt longer. She anticipated hitting the ground but didn’t expect to feel the dizziness that accompanied her once she hit the earth. Her feet gave out from underneath her and she rolled over like a turtle. Ether looked down at her, chuffing.

Lorian stayed on the ground, fingers curling into the cold grass. She counted the eerie seconds of silence. Someone always noticed when she acted out. She’d be caught, subdued, reformed into what her father wanted.

Nobody came. Missus Sharma didn’t run to her bedroom window and call out for her. No patrolling officer asked what she was doing.

She breathed in a gulp of fresh air, then slowly lifted herself up with her horse. She pulled on her reins and waited. She climbed onto Ether’s back and waited.

Nobody was coming.

Nobody knew she was here.

Lucia had been killed, and Lorian had taken her first step.

She blinked back the tears. She didn’t know what had brought them on. Her cutting her hair, her knowing that this one decision might strip her away from everyone she loved for months, years. If this worked, if she really pulled everything off, she might never see them again. Beatrice, Carmine, her mother, Missus Sharma, the maids and officers who treated her far better than she deserved, her father…

She violently turned her head away and broke Ether into a gallop. She tore through the gardens, through the first gate. A lone officer on duty hadn’t been expecting anyone to pass through here and certainly wasn’t prepared to stop a galloping mare running past him. He also probably hadn’t been expecting Lorian to be crying.

She knew she hadn’t. Isn’t this what she’d wanted? To be free from a marriage to a man she’d met three, possibly four times in her life? To be free from her father’s expectations of being a subservient princess and to finally do what she wanted to do?

She ran her horse as fast as she could into the Roman night. Tonight, she was Lorian. And tonight, she was unshackled.

#Transient Time Traveller #art #original character #lgbtq #cottagecore #queer #aida #lorian #original art #oc #novel #writing #ttt #royal road #ao3 #archive of our own

[thequibblah]

Fic prompt 27 in fluff or 20 in angst. 😘

lmao sorry this is 3853847 years late but i wrote #20 here. no more prompts please!

“Don’t fuck up the plan,” are the first words James hears when he walks into the room. 

“Hello to you too,” he tells Trevor, taking his seat on the far side of the table, fourth from the head. 

Trevor shrugs. “Just passing on the message.”

“The message came from me. It was my bloody message.”

Trevor obviously doesn’t believe it. “You?”

“This is a comic relief venture,” Sirius informs him, one seat down from James. (God, he really did oversleep, if Sirius made it in before him. Start of term tends to do that to James, though he’s otherwise very much a morning person.)

“It’s a comic relief venture to throw the president a surprise welcome-back party?” says Trevor, still incredulous. “I thought this was Dorcas’s doing.”

“If it goes well, I helped,” Dorcas chirps. “If not, it was all them.”

To be fair, James understands, even though Trevor must be the only one complaining about a surprise party in the first week of the new term. He and Sirius are the comic relief on their student council, so their schemes tend to be dubious.

That’s not a metaphor or anything. While others were elected to specific positions, such as Dorcas the freshers liaison or Trevor the secretary, the two of them were specifically elected to keep things fun. In James’s opinion, though, this is one of the most beautiful time-honoured traditions of Gryffindor College, and he would never, ever violate it. Most importantly he would never, ever violate it and fuck with Lily Evans, Gryffindor College JCR president, at the same time. 

Truthfully, the point is just to have a day-drinking event, but that’s far too simple for James and Sirius. Also, James might be twenty years old, but he’s well aware that he hasn’t outgrown his desire to impress Lily. Remus calls it near-pathological.

Whatever. It’s a character flaw he’s working on.

So they’ve staged this elaborate tableau: a meeting called not by Lily but by the vice president, the alcohol hidden underneath the famed JCR table (with the Gryffindor lion carved onto its surface, allegedly so that students can’t use it for beer pong), the other students told to stand by for the sound of confetti cannons.

The confetti cannons were James’s idea. He’s proud of that.

“Abigail, did you bring the food?” Peter’s asking, frowning down the length of the table.

“Shit, I forgot them in the kitchen—”

“The food, of all things,” says Dorcas, exasperated. She jumps to her feet. “Right, come on, all hands on deck. I’m not ferrying trays back and forth.”

“I believe in one-trip shopping bag runs,” says Sirius, following her out the door.

“Don’t start without us,” says Remus.

“I’ll hold down the fort,” James says belatedly. Everyone’s already left. 

Restless, he too stands and paces around the table. He picks up a stray confetti cannon, juggling it between his hands as he walks. Shopping for the cannons was a trip — they’re advertised bizarrely, with the most detailed descriptions of what the confetti within them will be like. Perfectly-shaped strips of fine crepe paper, weird shit like that. James can’t pinpoint why they make him vaguely uncomfortable. These cannons are called glitter bombs. That’s weird in and of itself, but he’s too preoccupied to consider it. 

It’s their final year at Hogwarts, which means he and his mates have a to-do list longer than his tutorial syllabi. But between all the Gryffindor College bucketlist items is one that’s a touch more personal. This is the year he’ll finally untangle his feelings for Lily Evans.

 It’s not as though he’s ever been particularly subtle. Subtle isn’t really in his vocabulary. But, well, Lily doesn’t really pick up what he puts down, so to speak. Whether that’s because of what’s happened in the past, he can’t say.

Then again, he doesn’t want to be that guy — the guy who awkwardly comes on to a girl he saw in school, years later, only to discover that she cares not a whit for him after all and any residual awkwardness is from the fact that she cares not a whit for him after all rather than lingering romantic tension.

He really hopes it’s lingering romantic tension, though. 

James is never uncertain. He’s not a second-guesser; rarely does he even think before he speaks or acts. But given his history with Lily, overthinking is absolutely the play.

“Am I early?”

He whirls around, the confetti cannon still in hands. It’s Lily in the doorway, because of course, and he is holding the confetti cannon. James is certain he looks like he’s been caught red-handed mid-heist, not just because that’s fairly accurate, but because a small, amused smile is playing at her lips.

“Er,” James says, “Dorcas wanted everyone’s help bringing in meeting snacks.”

“That’d be a lot of meeting snacks,” says Lily, walking over to the throne-like chair at the head of the table and taking her seat. “James?”

He turns to face her, his heart thumping as wildly and as stupidly as though he’s seventeen again. “Yep?”

“Why do you have a confetti cannon?”

“Oh, this.” James looks down at it like he hadn’t realised he had it at all. “It’s a glitter bomb, actually.”

Her smile widens. That has been the best thing about this week, in his opinion. It’s her first week as JCR president, and she’s so bloody thrilled, the sort of upbeat envied by cartoon princesses everywhere. It’s impossible not to be buoyed just by her presence.

“Why do you have a glitter bomb?” Lily says.

“We’ve got a big prank planned,” says James. He sits down in the chair next to her, which is several seats closer to her than he usually is at meetings. 

“Oh?”

“Oh, yes. We’ll set off this...glitter bomb.” 

This is it, James thinks. This is the day he finally tells his mother she’s right for saying he ought to have learned impulse control and how to filter his thoughts.

Lily motions for him to hand it over. “Give it here.”

“What? No. It’s my glitter bomb.” 

“Come on, you’ve got a whole stash over there.” She motions to the mantel, on which some absolutely idiotic motherfucker has left the entire bag of confetti cannons and-or glitter bombs. That definitely was not James’s doing. (It was.)

“It’s very important that the glitter bombs only go off when, er, when everyone’s in the room,” James says. There, he’s fixed his own derailment of the plan.

“Well, why not?” And to his dismay — but, simultaneously, his delight — Lily skips over to the mantel and grabs a confetti cannon of her own.

She’s just retaken her seat when the others troop back in, party snacks in hand. If James was worried that his own poker face was too transparent, theirs are a thousand times worse. Everyone freezes at the sight of Lily. Peter’s mouth falls open as though he’s never seen her before. Abigail looks as though she might cry at the spoiled surprise.

Sirius strolls through the lot of them and collapses into his seat, setting down his tray of crisps. 

“You don’t have to wait for my invitation,” Lily says to the rest.

James doesn’t move, because surely there’s some way to salvage the situation. That is, he can salvage it from right here, with Lily leaning forward next to him, her flowery perfume filling the air. Apparently everyone else is so unsure how to act that he’s allowed to keep this seat.

“Dorcas is on the way,” says Trevor, which James takes to mean Dorcas is on the way and will kill you if this goes wrong.

“Is she,” says Lily mildly, shooting James a conspiratorial look.

Oh, no.

Awkward conversation finally breaks out among the others. Lily kicks him under the table. “Count us down when she walks in,” she whispers.

“That’s...not a very...” But his voice dries up. How can he say it’s a bad idea, when she’s obviously so excited by something as small as a confetti cannon? Lily Evans loves being JCR president. And James Potter, as elected comic relief, isn’t there to spoil anyone’s fun.

Dorcas arrives carrying an entire stack of trays. What, James wonders, was the point of taking the whole room with her if she was going to haul all of that herself? Her eyes go wide as saucers as soon as she spots her friend.

When Lily kicks James under the table again, it’s less of a kick and more of a nudge. His resolve, worn down as it is, vanishes altogether. 

She nudges him again. He sets off the glitter bomb perfectly on cue. The sound of both cannons going off at once is deafening.

“Surprise!” says Lily.

Dorcas shrieks. The JCR doors — which she’s left open — are suddenly full of whooping students, speakers already blasting music. James is honestly impressed. The council members are on their feet at once, Trevor included.

Well, that might be because of the glitter just as much as the music. 

“So they weren’t confetti cannons,” says James, frowning. “Bloody Amazon scammers.”

Over the sound of a thrumming aughties hit, he vaguely hears Dorcas wail, “Why the hell is there glitter everywhere?!” 

But James isn’t paying attention at all, because Lily — speckled with said glitter — is laughing beside him, one hand on his arm (how and when did that happen?). Emboldened by this bizarre turn of events, he ducks his head to shout in her ear, “Save me a dance for later, will you?”

Her grin turns sly. “Why not right now?”

#jily #jily fanfiction #jily fanfic #jily fic #constancezin #me: why write a drabble when you can write exposition with a side of fluff instead #i hope this is remotely enjoyable #ask me