#my two other wips are screaming at me at this point

[nonstoplover]

sleep without you ~ charles leclerc (cl16)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

song inspiration: sleep without you ~ brett young

summary: charles struggles to function properly without her by his side, or a story of a night without his girlfriend.

words: 2.1K

warnings: nothing, just fluff and a slightly clingy charles baby <3

a/n: idk why but this song honestly screams charles to me whenever i hear it, so i just had to make it happen. also this was supposed to be posted on my one year f1-aversary as celebration (well technically it should be more if counting my childhood f1 years but anyway), but i was so caught up in another wip that i couldn't do it. so happy anniversary to me and f1 (two weeks late) with this lil ficlet <3 thankful for all that f1 gave me.

big thanks to the amazing lovely silverstonesainz for helping me make this better and to the equally awesome monzabee for making me much less anxious with her words. love you sm queens!!

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

Charles spends a whole afternoon trying to convince her to have a night out with her friends. Just because they're in a relationship doesn't mean they can't have fun without the other as well from time to time. There are still a couple of weeks left of winter break, plenty of opportunity to spend time just the two of them before the season starts again. So the usual point of view, the usual reasoning doesn't stand a chance – that they should spend as much time together as they can, before he's back to travelling all around the world.

"Go to a club, grab some drinks, dance and laugh the night away", he tells her. The usual bestie coffee dates or walks in the park that she usually raises as argument are not the same as a night out, and she hasn't done that for so long now. Definitely not since he's been back home, and he knows just how much she enjoys dancing her heart out.

(y/n) agrees after a short while, accepting his reasons, knowing full well that he's right, and after a few phone calls she starts getting ready, soon walking out the front door, dressed all pretty and dolled up.

Doesn't take long before Charles realises what he's done. A feeling tingles in his chest, one he recognises swiftly. He's miserable. Solely because she's not there by his side, as he makes dinner, eats it – all by himself –, before settling on the couch to occupy himself with a movie. It doesn't matter though, he doesn't pay any attention to it. He doesn't even know what's going on, he hasn't heard a single line, too busy thinking about her.

When the credits start to roll, he switches the TV off with a surprised look in his eyes – how did it already end? He doesn't even remember the first scene ending. Then he moves into the bathroom to do his night routine, from taking a shower to putting on some skincare products, all the while wondering how long she will be out for? Will she come home soon? Hope tingles in his chest that the answer to his question is yes.

Having finished with everything, Charles lies down in bed, trying to read a book, then scrolling on social media, doing anything to keep his mind from straying over and over again back to her. He knows this is stupid, he was the one telling her to go out, why is he like this now? Lying awake on his side of the bed, the fingers on his right hand tracing figures onto the sheet where her body usually rests.

This is pathetic, Charles thinks. He never thought he would be like this, so miserable and impatient just because she's not at home, with him. He's tossing around, unable to find a comfortable position for himself – it seems like he forgot how to sleep without her. No matter how many times he's had to do just that, in hotel rooms all around the world. The past few weeks erased all those nights from his mind.

The delicious scent of her shampoo fills his lungs when his face lands just a bit too close to her pillow, and all of a sudden it's like he's burying his nose in her hair. It only makes him miss her more. Sleeping is impossible, he knows it now. He's only daydreaming, not actually dreaming, of her arriving home and being in his arms again.

Charles imagines the way she dances in the middle of the floor, her hands in the air, shouting the lyrics loudly to the song currently playing – most probably something she knows and loves –, and he can't help but smile fondly. Just the thought of her having fun is enough to make him happier, even in his misery.

He pictures a scene where a random guy tries to get too close to her, as it has happened so many times, whenever he leaves her alone for a few minutes at any club they've been to. It doesn't matter where they are, doesn't matter if they spent the night so far together, all over each other, someone comes into the picture immediately when he leaves, either to grab a drink for the two of them, or to go to the restrooms.

It's not like he doesn't understand those guys. She's simply gorgeous, and radiates such a vibrant aura that everyone is drawn to her. He honestly just finds it funny at this point. Nothing makes these men back off more effectively than her. Oh, the amount of times he bit back laughter watching the scene unfold from a distance. Seeing men crumble and disappear looking all ashamed, what a sight that is. And he doesn't have to do anything.

He wonders how many times she's had to fight off guys so far tonight, with him not even in the club, and he finds he can't wait to hear all her stories of the newest victims. Pierre never understood why Charles found it so amusing, he didn't seem to get it. The trust they have in each other. Knowing that it's him she'll come home to at the end of the night is enough to make him only feel entertained by each instance, and not irritated at the slightest bit.

But thinking about (y/n) fighting off men is only good enough entertainment for a limited amount of time, and soon the smile fades back into a miserable pout on his lips, as his thoughts turn back into ones of impatience, trying to make time move faster with short little prayers falling as mumbles from his lips.

With a sigh, he eventually sits up, looking around to find something he can do. At last he decides on grabbing a drink himself, maybe it will help stop the flow of thoughts racing in his head. A little welcomed dullness.

He takes a seat at the kitchen table, sipping on the liquid in his glass, enjoying the feeling of the light alcohol gently burning his throat on the way down, numbing his tongue along the way. His fingers stay restless, now drumming on the wooden surface. A few minutes later he realises they play a song, soundless except the soft thud of his fingertips with the occasional louder tap or little scratch of his nails when a finger finds a different angle to hit the table with.

A melody appears in his mind as he watches his fingers move, imagining how it would sound if it was his piano instead of the kitchen table. He would go sit at the beautiful, white instrument and try it, but he doesn't want to be so loud at such a late hour. And anyway, he's way too comfortable sitting where he is to stand up and go somewhere else.

He looks out the window, catching sight of the moon – almost full, just a tiny bit of it missing, and Charles examines the craters that are visible to the naked eye, though only as spots of a darker shade on the round shape.

Maybe he'll name this new musical piece that's being born in his head right now after her – well, if he ever finishes it. He'll keep the usual format, three letters of a city name and a date, only this time putting the time and place of when they first met. Or should it be the time and place of when he first asked her out? Or their first date? Or when she agreed to move in with him? God, there are way too many options to choose from. He decides to put this problem aside for now, he's not in a rush to name a song not even written yet.

As the clock on the oven changes all four numbers to display 2am, the action rouses his attention and makes him tear his eyes away from the moon and look at the numbers instead.

He would've never ever thought that he'd be like this.

Raising his glass he notices that there's only a small sip left in it, which he downs in a short moment. His tongue darts out to gather all the minuscule drops that might rest on his lips still, not wanting to waste even that much of the delicious drink. Then he stands up, placing the glass down into the sink, making a mental note to clean it in the morning before (y/n) wakes up.

Just as he ponders putting another movie on, maybe only as background noise if nothing else, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his pants. Taking his time, Charles pulls the device out, expecting nothing more than a useless notification from a social media app he shouldn't spend so much time on anyway.

Instead what he finds is a text. From her.

in a cab, be home soon &lt;3

Charles lets out a relieved sigh, his lips involuntarily curving into a smile, one that you could almost call giddy. It's not just the thought that she's going to be here soon, but the fact that she remembered to text him to let him know. He's in her mind, just like she's in his, even though she's been out with friends, having fun, drinking, while he's only been at home, all alone with his misery.

Now he can move back to bed happily, knowing that shortly she will join him.

It truly doesn't take long until Charles hears the front door creak as it opens, then the familiar jingle of her keys hitting the drawer in the hall, and his heart flutters with happiness. Finally. The high heels she chose to wear hit the floor with a soft thud as she presumably removes them, and the growing anticipation in his body seems to eat him whole.

Her steps grow louder and louder as she moves closer to the bedroom, and time slows for Charles. He watches in slow motion as she appears in the doorframe, being propped up on his elbows to have a better view, a lazy smile curling onto his face, and his eyes lidded with drowsiness.

"You're still awake?" (y/n) giggles, pausing in her steps for a second as her eyes take in the view he provides lying there. His lack of reply to her text made her think he's already fallen asleep.

"Of course," he mumbles. "Come to bed."

His voice is whiny and he behaves like an actual child, he knows, but he can't help it. He wants to sleep, and he wants to sleep beside her, feeling her warmth against his skin. That's the only way he can.

"Let me get changed first," she starts towards the closet, when a grunt of pure displeasure sounds from him along with the thump of his back as he falls into a lying position once more, making her glance back at her boyfriend. "What, can't wait a single minute?"

"No," he protests, pouting . "I've been waiting for hours."

His accent comes forth stronger when he's sleepy, and she can't help but smile adoringly upon hearing it. He's just so cute.

"Okay, fine, you'll get one kiss," she gives in. Charles resembles a lost puppy and she's sure he knows that's her weakness. She can't ever say no to anything when he looks like that.

So that's how she finds herself crawling into bed, trying to get as close as possible to the boy without causing damage to her dress. He grins, as much as his tired facial muscles allow, awaiting her lips touching his own. His pout becomes even more apparent, right until the moment he finally gets what he wants. His goodnight kiss. It's soft, slow and just so full of love it makes both their hearts flutter.

Then she caresses his cheek gently, whispering a barely audible good night, sleep tight to him, before moving back off the bed to disappear in the closet, leaving Charles to think about how he'd happily convince her again of going out if it means she'll come home to him, looking so radiant, properly buzzing with energy, eyes shining, hair messy but still looking so breathtaking. It's obvious how much it meant to her that she had this night out. He made her happy with telling her to go out with her friends, and he didn't regret it, despite all the miserable hours.

By the time she finishes her night routine and walks back into the bedroom once more, he's fast asleep, quiet snores filling the silence of the room. She bites into her bottom lip to keep in the giggle threatening to burst out, and with a heart full of adoration and a head slightly dizzy from the drinks she's had, she gets in bed beside him, snuggling up close to him, revelling in the feeling of his arms instinctively finding their way around her body even when he's sleeping.

He truly only waited for her to come home and give him a goodnight kiss to finally be able to fall asleep.

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[mayolive-writes]

The Love Plaza | Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x AFAB Reader

Summary: Needing to take a break from the long trip to college, you and Jungkook are forced to stay at the only lodging available within 70 miles, a love motel. And much to Jungkook’s dismay, there’s only one bed.

Wordcount: 4102

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Smut, Best Friends to lovers, Oneshot(?)

Warnings: Dry humping, mild awkwardness (these poor virgins), no penetration (this time), They’re so cute and down bad

Minors DNI

A/N: thought this would be a fun writing prompt to exercise my humor muscle. I often feel that my writing lacks comedic relief, so this was good practice! I wanted this to be goofy as shit, because friends to lovers is just that much sweeter when it’s goofy. I do have a couple other WIPs with this couple though!! One that’s fluffy and another that is significantly spicier.

Enjoy!!

The Love Plaza | Moonlight Trampoline Adventure | Labret

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

You must be shitting me.

Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. Jungkook reads the sign in disbelief. The only lodging in 70 miles was a damned love motel. The bright red neon “18+” sign mocks him.

Unbelievable.

"Hell no, I can keep driving," Jungkook turns to you, there's no way you'd be okay with this.

"Jeon Jungkook, we've been driving on and off for 14 hours in a cramped truck with enough leg room for a toddler. We're both exhausted." You flash him a stern look, "we were honked at five times because we were going off the road!" With a light smack of his chest, you giggle, "besides, maybe they have a room with separate beds!" Your voice drips with sarcasm, calm about the entire situation.

Except you weren't.  Inside, you were screaming. A fucking love hotel in the middle of nowhere? This is a sick joke. But despite your inner turmoil, you keep a humored face.

"You're sure?" Jungkook asks again, just to make sure.

Cocking your eyebrow, you give him an incredulous look, "the other option is getting into a crash. I don’t think coffee and 5-hour-energy can't help us now, bun."

He sighs. With every passing second, he can feel his heart losing years of life. This definitely isn’t healthy.

A bell sounds as you and Jungkook enter, catching the eye of a desk clerk. The shabby motel is surprisingly chic inside, with modern hardwood tile, and wallpaper patterned with soft wisteria, giving the space a fresh feeling.

"Hey there! Do you have a reservation?" The smile on the clerk's face is practiced, but falters when he sees the both of you in sweatpants and t-shirts. 

He concludes on his own, no, you don't have a reservation.

As you both walk awkwardly up to the desk, the clerk continues, "just the two of you?"

Jungkook answers, "uh--yeah." You spot a basket on the counter and tap Jungkook on the shoulder, pointing.

It's full of different sized condoms in every bright color imaginable. Pink, blue, orange, yellow, purple, green.

You both hold back silly smiles, doing your utmost to keep cool. 

"And do you perhaps--" you pick up a condom out of the basket and Jungkook chokes. He takes a moment before looking at the smiley clerk again, "have a room with separate beds?"

The clerk simply stares at Jungkook. Separate beds? In a love motel?

There's been very few moments in Jungkook's life when he was truly Flustered.

1. Confessing to Sandy Morrison in second grade. 

2. His first kiss in 11th grade.

3. Figuring out that maybe he wasn’t totally straight.

4. Seeing you, his best friend and crush of at least 6 years,  pick up a large condom, neatly packed in bright neon orange wrapping, and pocketing it for some ungodly reason.

Shit.

What are you doing?

You yourself don't know what the hell you're doing. There’s zero intention in your mind of using the condom, of course--not that you wouldn't like to. But you're just trying to have fun. What else do you do in a love hotel? With this thought, you promptly lose your shit when you sight a shelf near the clerk desk that displays a variety of items.

Lube, lace garters (neatly packed in plastic packaging, fancy!), satin blindfolds, fuzzy handcuffs (red, pink, blue, black, and orange!), and the cherry on top--a brochure of "The Best Positions For A Night of Passion!"

The cackle you hold in makes you shake. You hop over to the shelf and ask the clerk, "how much for these?" Pointing to the handcuffs.

The clerk is now thoroughly confused at the contrasting interests in both you and Jungkook, who is flushed in the face--both from embarrassment and holding his laughter in. "Um... They're all a dollar, the pamphlet is free."

The clerk looks back to Jungkook, "and, sir, I'm sorry, but we don't have rooms with separate beds," leaning forward to whisper, he continues, "if you guys are fighting, take the couch." 

Well, it was worth a shot.

Once you're both checked in, Jungkook is about to walk away. That is, before he sees you go up to the desk clerk with one of each item that was displayed on the shelf. 

Oh. 

My.

God.

The clerk looks at Jungkook, his expression screaming, "dude, I can't believe you wanted separate beds!"

You happily stride beside Jungkook through the motel hallway, kinky bag in hand while he carries the luggage. You must be insane. Having finally reached room 40, you both realize that Jungkook’s hands are full of your bags. Awkwardly, you dig into his front pocket, feeling for the card.

"Um..." you look up when he speaks up, "it's in the other pocket.”

Oh. Oops.

You dig through his other pocket. 

why are these damn things so dee--

What. Was. That.

Jungkook gasps.

You gasp.

Realizing what you’ve just done, you flinch away, “Oh my god! I’m so fucking sorry--" Jungkook is utterly speechless. This night just keeps getting more and more inconceivable. He says nothing as you dig more cautiously and finally yank out the godforsaken key.

One minute later you're finally in the room, with yours and Jungkook’s cheeks throbbing red.

Nice one, y/n.

As you both walk further in, you gasp. All other thoughts vanish at the sight.

Jesus Christ, what a night.

"Oh my god, Koo!" You drag him in faster and he sees you fall into a burst of laughter, and once he sees it too, promptly loses his composure at the ridiculous sight.

The bed is obviously heart-shaped, the sheets are red satin, and the blankets are pink velvet. The mattress is adorned with frilly heart pillows and lacy detailing, with a black headboard screwed into the wall (which is probably for the best).

You both share gazes of utter astonishment, only to fall over yourselves once more. The sheer ridiculousness of it all hitting you full force. Jungkook’s laughter only falters when he notices that there isn't a couch.

This leaves him with two options. Share the bed with you and sacrifice a sleepless night resulting in another 10 hours of hell tomorrow, or sleep on the plush black carpeted floor and spend the next week with achy muscles and a crick in the neck.

He's gonna have to sleep on the fucking floor.

Quietly, Jungkook goes into the bathroom, leaving you to your own devices.

One bed. God, what a cliché. Jeon Jungkook will not be brought down by some fanfic writer’s wet dream.

Despite the inconvenience of the motel, Jungkook is relieved as the hot water spews from the showerhead. He’s needed this all day. Each muscle becomes looser, and Jungkook finds himself relaxing as the sound of water hitting the floor puddles in his mind.

6 long years.

Jungkook was twelve when he realized he had a big, fat, disgusting crush on you. But he knew it wasn’t a big deal. Crushes pass and fade. It’s impossible not to have a crush at that age.

Jungkook was 16 when he realized it wasn’t just a crush anymore. The poor bastard was head over heels. Down for the count. Your smile made his heart burn—he’d do anything to see it. He’d pull up pictures of you on his phone on the rare occasion he couldn’t see you, just to make sure he could at least see your smile every day. He recalls feeling stupid for feeling so fuzzy about you all the time, but what’s shameful about wanting to see someone you love happy and smiling? Nothing.

At some point, it turned physical. Absolute hell. He felt complete and utter shame the first time he touched himself while thinking about you. It was deplorable how badly and how often he yearned for your lips on his body.  

Throughout high school, Jungkook could barely look at anyone else other than you. Others could tell, most didn’t even try making a move on him. Except for his first kiss, taking place after prom in the parking lot. He remembers apologizing profusely to his date the next day, admitting that he just didn’t feel that way about them.

During graduation, he almost slipped. Almost confessed that he wanted to give it a shot. The longing was becoming too much. But no matter how close he came to finally spitting it out he’d always chicken out. You meant too much. And it felt… wrong to spring it on you.

But this? He might break in two. He’s insane, he knows, but that millisecond where you accidentally touched him through his pants almost made him hydroplane, losing all traction on reality.

A knock on the door yanks Jungkook out of his murky thoughts. “If you use up all the hot water, I’ll personally annihilate you, Kookie.”

He can’t hold back a smirk, “yeah, yeah, I’m almost done.”

If hot showers were personified, you’d marry them. Specifically, the ones taken after your best friend, with his scent still lingering. This night has been one hell of a rollercoaster, and you take your time washing away the 14 hours of uncomfortable driving and cleanse your airways. Jungkook has always smelled like home to you. Years of friendship will do that to a person. Not even your own family can make you feel at ease like he does, with the way he shines. Bright enough to feel warm, but not so bright as to scare anyone away.

7 long years.

You were 11 when you realized you had a big, fat, disgusting crush on Jungkook. But you’d had countless meaningless crushes at that age, he was just a crush out of convenience, right?

Wrong.

You were 16 when you realized it wasn’t just a crush anymore. Something about Jungkook’s demeanor with you changed. He was always nice to you, but as Jungkook matured, his rough-and-tumble attitude crumbled away into something softer, cushier, and sweeter. It was unbearable. Whenever he put a secure arm around your shoulder, your heart would squeeze, and then release. First yearning, then comfort.

You wanted him. In more than one way. Never in a million years would you live down the shame from the first time you let him invade your thoughts alone at night. It wasn’t that long ago, really. Jungkook had turned 18, and He wasted little to no time in getting a lip piercing. You nonchalantly said it looked cool, but it kept you up that night.

It was becoming too much, but with graduation fast approaching you thought you’d finally have your out. You’d go off to college, and as much as you’d miss your best friend, you knew you needed to get away, and hopefully the love would fade with time.

Well, that was before you found out that Jungkook was going to the same college as you.

It was pure coincidence.

So here you are. Desperately trying to wash away your increasing desire on both fronts, romantically and sexually.

Regretfully, you step out of the shower into the cold bathroom air. In an instant you’re pulling Jungkook’s stolen hoodie over your head.

The room is dead silent when you leave the bathroom, and you spot Jungkook resting peacefully on the heart-shaped bed. His eyes are closed. It’s moments like these that make you want to give in and just tell him. So what if he doesn’t feel the same way? So what if he doesn’t fight back the urge to kiss you every day? So. Fucking. What.

He’s your best friend. That’s fucking what.

Losing him is not an option.

“Gook?” Jungkook is lightly startled, and you almost feel bad for waking him. “Hey, can you move over?”

“Huh?” He groggily looks around, then realizes, “Oh—yeah, yeah, just a sec.”

With sloth-like movements, Jungkook grabs a pillow and a blanket from the bed and lays them on the floor, but before he can slip down onto the carpet you stop him, “woah, woah, woah. What’re you doing?”

“Uhhh, going to sleep?”

“On the floor? We’ve shared a bed before, doofus.”

“yeah, when we were like, nine.” Jungkook retorts. Please, God. Don’t do this to him.

You know it’ll be hell sharing a bed with him, but you’d feel like shit making him sleep on the floor. “What’re you afraid of, catching cooties? Come on, bun, it’s not a big deal.” It is a big deal. It is such a stupidly big deal.

Jungkook takes a moment to read your eyes, only a feeling a twinge of awkwardness. With reluctance, he moves the blanket and pillow back onto the bed and climbs in first. He can do this.

You climb in behind him, settling in quickly. His back is to you, thank God, but warmth is radiating from his body. You can’t do this.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Focus.

Focus on the patter of the rain outside. Focus on the whirring of the ceiling fan above. Focus on the softness of the sheets. Focus on the warmth of the blankets. Focus on the smell of the detergent. Focus on the smell of Jungkook’s shampoo.

Wait, no. Don’t focus on that.

Hell freezes over in the time it takes for you to get comfortable.

It feels like infinity has passed by as Jungkook lays deathly still. One movement and he’ll shatter. The bed feels smaller than it looks. The proximity is too much. He can hear your deep breaths, can feel them in how your back lightly hits his with every intake of air. His body feels like it’ll start vibrating. His chest feels like it might implode. His thoughts are spiraling. He just wants you.

Eyes. Closed. Mouth. Closed. Mind. A work in progress. Sheep, count sheep.

1…

2…

3…

Just fall asleep. Please. You tell yourself.

Closing your eyes, you count the seconds as they pass by into minutes. You’re on minute 28 when a haze finally begins to ease you. But some prick outside of your room drops something heavy and you hear them giggling and walking away. You hope they have a terrible night’s sleep. Even if they weren’t planning on sleeping anyway.

Being conscious again, it’s impossible to ignore it. You can’t take it. You can’t. His warmth, his smell. His smile, his laugh.

Him.

Something possesses you. Chest aching painfully, heart beating mercilessly.

You whisper.

“Jungkook,”

“Yeah?” He curses the waver in his voice as your body shifts around to face his back. It takes him a moment before he has enough courage to turn around.

Your eyes.

Your eyes are big and wide, you look scared and excited all at once. “Jungkook, I…”

What are you doing?

You must be insane.

Just forget it.

But there’s no going back.

Do it.

Just say it.

Say it.

Fucking say it.

You like—

No.

He gently reaches for your hand beneath the blanket. The mingling of your fingers calms your mind, eases your breathing. “Thanks,” a whisper is sent across the small distance that separates the two of you. “How do you feel about me?”

Jungkook stares. Huh? That’s all? He chuckles, “We’ve been friends since we were like, four. It’s a good bet that I like you.”

You blink. What an absolute dunce. “No, you stupid asshat, how do you feel about me?” All this courage makes your mouth keep moving, “I mean… I feel something, and sometimes it seems like you feel something too. Can you like, tell me if it’s just me?”

Jungkook’s eyes go wide, his warm hand slipping away.

Oh. You’ve made a huge mistake.

Or so you think before he’s crawling to hover over you, hands beside your head. “You like me?”

It’s your turn for your eyes to bulge, your face burning at the position, one that you’ve imagined at least a million times. Head turning away, you reiterate, “Unfortunately.”

His head falls to your shoulder, “Oh my god. Holy shit, oh my God. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this shit, holy fucking shit.” You patiently wait for his rambling to stop, but you’re confused now. He’s on top of you. This man is on top of you but hasn’t said anything about how he feels yet.

The only natural response is to flick his forehead, of course.

“Hey, ouch!”

You exaggerate the clearing of your throat, “’holy shit, I can’t believe this shit.’ Isn’t a super direct answer, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re mean?”

“Aww did I hurt you fee—” His lips touch yours softly, but it doesn’t last long enough before he falls back to his side of the bed.

“It’s not just you,” Your hands find each other again.

A thick silence rests over you, despite your staggering heart. You want him to kiss you again, desperately. You push yourself to ask, “kiss me again? Maybe longer this time?”

Jungkook obliges wordlessly, leaning over to press his lips against yours once more. It’s slow, cautious, unsure. Your body feels tense, making it difficult to feel excited. Not sure what to do, you pull him closer by his sweatshirt, forcing your bodies to touch.

It feels like he’s melting into you. His lips are still shaky, but he pushes forward, placing his hand on your hip as you wrap a leg over his body. Creating even less distance between you. There’s a heavy breath.

“Um… okay, pause.” Your eyes meet. He nods and his fingers brush through your hair, playing with it casually and awaiting your next request. In this wide expanse of time, the tingle of him playing with your hair lulls your mind and heart.  

“Again?”

Third time’s the charm, right?

With less hesitance than before, Jungkook finds your lips again, keeping his hand buried in your hair. This time, it’s more comfortable, and your lips tingle. Unsure of what to do with yourself, your hands grip his sweatshirt even tighter, and you find it in yourself to lean in closer, breath quickening less from nerves and more from pleasure.

How many times had you thought of this? Each scenario being different, passionate and fiery. And yet of the hundreds of daydreams, none of them were accurate. Despite the underlying awkwardness, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

All thoughts drift away when Jungkook’s lips leave your own, and before you can protest, they fall upon your neck. Far more astonishing is when he drags you on top of him, changing your positions.

A quiet gasp escapes. Woah, woah woah, buddy.

But your surprise doesn’t stop him from dragging his lips to the other side of your neck. You feel your legs go numb. With his stupid lips on your neck still, he asks, “Is this okay?”

There’s a lot of fumbling in your brain before you can answer, “mhm… I’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Oh really? How much of it?” This stupid bitch.

“Shut up before you ruin it, just keep going.” You have no clue, but to Jungkook, the breathlessness in your voice feels like kryptonite.

Slipping a hand beneath your hoodie, you jolt at his touch. “How far do you want me to go?”

You squirm, “Um… I don’t know yet, is that okay?”

“Good, cuz’ I don’t know either. We can stop at any point.” Becoming impatient, you only give him a nod before you guide his hand to slip further into your hoodie. The trail of his touch his tingly, unpredictable, exciting. The gentle nature in the way he feels you causes your body to take on a mind of its own as your hips sink into Jungkook, forcing a groan from his lips. “Fuck, do that again.” You follow his instruction, and he lets out another noise of pleasure. It sends a spark coursing through you, leaning in to kiss him again. It’s messier this time, the caress of his hand on your skin making the simple task of breathing complicated. Your hips push down again, and the bulge you feel beneath you makes you gasp. In quick succession, Jungkook’s fingers brush over the tip of your breast, and to your utter shock a whine flows out of your lips. Your legs lose more strength, and you follow instinct. One hand slips beneath Jungkook’s shirt, and the jerk has the audacity to cup your breast in retaliation, dragging another whine out of you. Your head falls to his neck, partially because you feel like jelly, and partially because you want to leave a string of kisses to match what he so generously left on you prior.

With each kiss your hands keep exploring his torso and chest. If he can play dirty, so can you.

Or so you thought.

He pulls the neckline of your hoodie down to gain access to your collarbone before leaning up and licking a bold stripe from your clavicle up to your neck, dragging your body closer all the while. And when he latches on to the crook of your neck, sucking hard and meeting your hips as they subconsciously grind into him, you release a moan.

“There you go.”

You see through hazy vision the smirk on his face. Different from any that you’ve seen in your countless years of friendship.

He does it again, latching onto a spot along your collarbone and sucking, harsh but loving. Easing the sting with another swipe of his tongue.

The room is soon a quiet orchestra of heavy breaths and stifled groans, whines, and moans.

Time feels nonexistent.

“I think I want you to touch me, koo--”

“You think?”

You whine, “God, I don’t know—I just need more.”

He groans, “Fuck, babe.”

His hands securely grip your hips, and guide them to grind down onto him, hard. His sweatpants barely getting in the way.

You gasp at first, but as he keeps guiding your hips you let out a moan, louder than the one before. You cover your lips, not wanting to be heard by anyone outside.

“shit babe, please don’t be quiet, please—”

As the rhythm of your hips continue, you lean down, resting your head beside Jungkook’s ear, hoping that the muffle of the pillows will prevent anyone other than Jungkook hearing you. You let go, letting your moans flow, as his hips meet yours. Each sound you let out into his ear brings Jungkook closer to his breaking point.

“Keep going Koo, I’m close.” You whisper, and the sounds Jungkook lets out sound almost painful.

“Fuck, I love you.” He whines. And with barley another thrust of his hips, he comes undone beneath you. He keeps his grip on your hips, continuing to bring your hips down onto him.

You can barely manage “I love you too, Koo” before you find release.

The butterflies haven’t subsided yet. You’re clean and warm in bed again with Jungkook, hands and hearts intertwined. This time sleep feels more possible, but you can’t help but want to talk.

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“some of that felt awkward, right?”

“Well, I don’t think anything is more awkward than when we were forced to take a bath together when we were toddlers just cuz’ we got all muddy in the rain.”

You giggle as Jungkook pulls you in closer against his chest. “Yeah, sex ain’t shit compared to that.”

The warmth lulled you into a comfortable silence. You can’t remember the last time you felt this content, and you never want it to end. Every night this is what you want. Hands fit together loosely, blanket tangled between your bodies.

Jungkook will process with time that this is his new reality. His new reality in which you fall asleep in his arms, in which he can pull you closer, hold you tighter, and play with your fingers as he drifts off into a dreamland that couldn’t possibly match what he has with you. No one knows what the future holds, but Jungkook sure as hell hopes that you’re a part of it.

This shaggy love motel did more good than he thought it would.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#bts smut #bts fanfic #bangtan sonyeondan #bts #Jungkook smut #jungook fanfic #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts scenarios #Jungkook #Jungkook imagine #Jungkook x reader #Jungkook fic #Jungkook x y/n #smut #kpop smut #female reader #Jungkook fluff #bts fics #jeon Jungkook

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Happy New Year!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

Bucky feels along the iron bars of the grated door. The metal beneath his leather glove could twist it easily. He doesn’t want to scare her so he won’t. She can’t know he was there. Not yet.

He made up his mind when he saw her leave. He doesn’t have the courage to introduce himself but he can make himself known in other ways. Even in those she doesn’t even notice. He’s going to give her what she needs most; safety.

He slides the file from his sleeve and sets to fiddling with the key slot above the handle. His frustration almost has him breaking the mechanism. No, he can’t. He can pick a damn lock, he’s done it before, it just so happens it’s always easier and faster to just punch a hole through it.

Finally, he gets the door open but there’s another. He sighs and lets the heavier door lean on his arm. Good, she’s not entirely helpless. The double barrier reassures him but you can never be too safe. Especially someone like her. He’s not stupid, he’s definitely not the only one to notice her and her warm eyes or soft lips.

The second lock is much quicker than the last. He closes both as he enters and stops to listen. There’s a thumping above followed by a scream. The churlish wail of a misbehaving child.

He looks around. There isn’t much to the apartment. A single room; a couch with a pull out mattress with its back to the kitchenette set against the far wall. In the corner, just to the left of the counter, there’s another door. He peeks inside; the bathroom stands dark and slightly dingy.

A pang plucks in his chest. She shouldn’t live like this. One room. Like a cage for a mouse. She deserves a lot more than this. If only he could give it to her. He will, when she’s ready to let him.

He paces around, taking in every inch. Her scent lingers. He thinks of sitting on the mattress, of smelling the pillows, but he doesn’t want to disturb too much. Instead, he sets to work.

First, the photos. He takes pictures of every inch. As reference, as fodder for the fantasies that build themselves in his head. Then comes the most important step.

He scratches his chest, his tags sticking to his skin. He didn't realise how he was sweating. He's all worked up, his mind laser focused but his nerves entirely scattered.

He unslings the bag from his shoulder and takes out the small lens. It sits on his fingertip, barely visible against the leather of his glove. One of the few perks that come with his work. A rare benefit between the sleepless nights and bruised ribs.

He puts one in each corner, making certain with the app on his phone that he has all vantage points. He adjusts the one nearest the door. He’ll add one outside as well. Should he put one in the bathroom too?

He crosses the front room and flips on the light for the second room. There’s no window in there. He shouldn’t need to put a lens there but…

He stares at the shower stall. That’s wrong. That’s too far. No, when he sees her like that, he wants it to be special.

He turns off the light and backs out. He does a final lap around the space and stops by the small drawers in the corner. The transparent plastic gives a view of the contents. Her clothing is rolled inside to fit. Even if the drawers are stuffed tight, she doesn’t have much. She deserves more than the gray cotton and faded denim.

He adds that to the list in his phone. He pulls open a drawer and snaps photos of the tags. He’s no good at guessing sizes. Even for himself. It’s why he owns a t-shirt that Sam calls his Hooters shirt. He doesn’t know what that means he just knows it isn't funny.

He glances around one last time. He needs to go. If she comes back, there’s nowhere to hide. If she caught him there, she’d never trust him.

He goes back outside and locks the doors, one a time, with the file and pick. He’s happy to be done with it but forlorn to leave her again. He has no choice, he has a mission. At least, he’ll be able to keep an eye on her.

He tucks his chin down as he heads down the alley. He shoves his hands in his pockets. He should’ve taken something. Just something that smells like her. She wore a bandana the other day, a pretty yellow one with little flowers on it. It was tied around her hairline to sop up her sweat as she cleaned. He saw her wiping the windows but she didn’t see him. She never does.

As he gets to the street, he nearly jumps. She has an armful of bags and doesn’t see him above the grocery peeking out the top. He wants to help her but he finds himself paralysed. He sidles out of her way as she continues on her path, completely unaware of the ghost watching her.

He watches her as she limps down the alley. The bags crinkle noisily and she grunts as she lowers them down to the cracked pavement. She rubs her hips before she finds her keys from her purse. He can hear how she shudders, almost whimpering in pain. He hates that she suffers. He wants to take that from her too.

It’s too early. He doesn’t want to blow this. Sam told him to play it cool. He said girls these days don’t like to be smothered.

He has to make himself walk away as he door opens. Suddenly, he’s very paranoid that she’s going to know he was there. That she’ll sense the intrusion, maybe even find the cameras. As if she’d be inspecting the plaster that closely.

His heart is pumping in his ears. He’s so nervous. And a little guilty. He had no choice. She hadn’t come back to the restaurant. He would’ve tried to be cool. Maybe ask about her book, then introduce himself, she might even give him her name. He knows it but he’d love to hear her say it. To him. And she could say his name too. 

He tries to imagine that and he shivers. One day, he hopes, it won’t all be in his head. But until then, it will have to be. Or at least, nestled in his pocket. He slides out his phone and finds the app still open. There she is, under his eye, under his protection. Safe and sound.

Her

You put the bags on the bed, barely getting that far before the burning turns intolerable. You hiss and sit beside your grocery, holding your hip with one hand, and the armrest with the other. It’s not very far to the store but enough to make it a task.

You take a moment and a breath. You stand and bring one bag to the counter. You unpack the budget staples; a bag of cheap rice, some quick oats, a small bottle of dish soap. Nothing very exciting but enough.

You sit again before you fetch the second bag. Frozen fruit that won’t spoil too fast in the crisper and a loaf of whole wheat. You get everything away and fold up the paper bags.

The pull out frame groans loudly as you lay down. You have your book hugged close but you’re too tired to open it. You try not to bemoan your lack of help. The ministry approved you for a check, but didn’t see the need for more than that. It wouldn’t be much, you barter with yourself, just once a week to help with the big chores.

Maybe they were right though. You get it done. Even if it takes a little time and a lot of pain.

You close your eyes and sink into a half doze. The sort that makes your eyes itchy but can’t soothe your racing mind. You relent, not wanting to sleep so early, and sit up again. You should eat, you forgot to do that before you left.

You drag yourself to your feet and hobble around to the kitchen. You lean on the counter as you flip on the kettle. Quick oats will do, a bit of brown sugar and cinnamon, a dash of milk.

You pause as something catches your eye. Just beside your foot. You grip the laminate and get to your knee. You lift the slender chain from the floorboards, the silver catching the stray sunlight from the window. It’s only a chain. No charm or ornament. You know for certain, it isn’t yours.

You don’t have jewelry. You never really had the need or the money. Aside from the braided bracelet a friend once made for you, you’d never even owned one of those pretty silver lockets you wanted so badly as a girl.

You examine it. The tiny metal balls threaded together. The military sort that snaps off easily. You wonder if maybe you dragged it in. You could see it snagging on your pant leg or even your jacket. Whoever it belongs to, you can’t know. You feel slightly bad that you won’t then be able to give it back.

You clutch the chain as you struggle back to your feet. You coil it up and put it on the kitchen shelf beside the tin of tea bags. It may be a sign that you should pay better attention. Sometimes it feels as if time is just blowing past you like wind.

Bucky

He watches her kneel and retrieve something from the floor. He tilts his head, his thumb at his lips as he sits on a bench, brow furrowed at his phone. What is it?

He uses his fingers to zoom in and notices the slight gleam of something dangling from her hand. His chest thumps as he flattens his palm against it. He drags his touch up to feel around his neck. His tags.

Shit. How did that happen? He was diligent and careful. It looks to be just the chain though…

He stands and slides his phone into his pocket. He tugs at his tee shirt, finding a shape caught where one side is tucked into the top of his jeans. He sighs a breath of relief as he fishes out the metal tag. He can replace the chain. Better yet, she won’t have his name. He’s not ready for that and he knows she isn’t either.

Now he knows he needs to be careful. He’s been careless and so soon. He’s not the soldier he once was. He’s getting complacent. That’s why he needs her. To keep him going.

And she needs him. He watches her limp back to the fold out bed. He had to fight to keep from running back to her apartment. Watching her struggle alone is the hardest part. He feels as if he’s torturing her, just sitting there as she whimpers in agony.

That bed is the biggest issue. Sleeping on that can’t be good for her. The shower is another. She should have a hot tub to soak in when she feels especially bad. And the bags. She shouldn’t be carrying all that alone. She couldn’t even see him over the load. What if he had been some villain?

He can’t fix any of that right now. He has to go. There’s a plane waiting for him, some bad men too. He takes a breath. He has to do this for her. The less evil there is in the world, the safer she is.

He sets his shoulders and begins his march down the street. His steps are certain, his posture is straight, and there’s more than a stone in his heart. There’s a little flutter there. He didn’t realise before what was missing; a purpose. 

Before, he fought, he killed because it’s all he ever knew. Because it’s what they told him to do. Now he has a better reason. The only reason. Her.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #the lonely souls club #falcon and the winter soldiers #avengers #mcu #marvel #captain america #winter soldier

[ilovepedro]

Deja Vú | javier peña x f!reader

Summary: You and Javier, your best friend and neighbor, have been hooking up for a while now. He’s infiltrated your daily life, lingering in your thoughts, seeing him everywhere - you’re unable to function without him crossing your mind. However, nothing has been exclusively established by you two. At least not until shit hits the fan when the two of you go on dates with other people. Will things between you and Javier turn into something more?

Word count: tbd (it’ll probs be long i can’t control myself)

Rating: 18+ MDNI (All ageless blogs will be blocked.)

Series warnings: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, lil bit of enemies to lovers at some point, idiots in love, miscommunication trope, flirting, mutual pining, some angst, Javi is a fucking idiot bc he is a man, jealous!Javi, possessive!Javi, protected and unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), fingering, oral (f receiving), spanking, some ass play, creampie, aftercare, reader speaks and understands Spanish, reader is female and has hair you can pull but has no other physical descriptions, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, translations will be available at the end of each chapter.

A/N: Mood board does not depict reader, she is completely faceless through and through. This is loosely based off Deja Vú by Beyoncé because how could i, Nini, not write a fic based off of a Bey song??? if y’all don’t know me, i am Beyhive 4L 🤞🏼i was listening to B’day and it’s so Javi coded to me, it’s crazy

Divider by @saradika

Full series here! 🫶🏼

As promised, my lil 200 followers celebration (and my WIP Wednesday) so, snippet under the cut!

You shut the door before he can answer, huffing out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in, and lean against it. What a long fucking night. Padding into the bathroom, you remove your makeup and sigh into your towel. You stare at yourself in the mirror and bite back tears.

Shaking your head, you will yourself not to cry - refusing to shed tears for him. You walk out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from one of the cabinets. Opening the fridge, you reach for the open bottle of wine. Sighing, as you’re reminded of Javi, having shared the bottle with him after a hookup a few days ago. 

You fill your glass to the brim and chug half of it, slamming down the glass on the countertop. You drag your feet towards the living room, plopping down on the couch. Your head hangs in your hands as you curl into a ball.

“Javi!” You perk up at the sound of a woman calling his name. Rising from the couch, you press your ear against the thin wall that separates yours and Javi’s apartments. “Sí, Javi, sí!” Your brain is short-circuiting as you hear her moan Javi’s name. You can’t help but let your jaw fall open, shocked that he’d be so bold to rub this in your face. Tears of anger and heartache well in your eyes. You attempt to storm off until you hear your name.

A man screaming your name - Javi screaming your name. Everything goes silent. Your ears are ringing and your body is hot, flooding with emotions as your head spins. There’s no way any of this is happening.

Suddenly, you hear shuffling and shouting from outside. Running to peer out of the small peephole at the top of your front door, your jaw drops again at the scene playing out in front of you. Cassandra, the woman from earlier in the night, is fixing her clothes while screaming at a shirtless Javi in the hallway.

i’m excited for this one! it’s like seeing the novelas in my head come to life on the page lol this is very self-indulgent for me

some moot/npt tags: @joelsgreys @nostalxgic @party-hearses @daydreamingmiller @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @javierpena-inatacvest @amanitacowboy @undrthelights @gracieheartsspedro 🩷

ty @mandoisapunk @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @jenispunk for the wip wednesday tags <333

#fic: deja vú #javier peña narcos #javier peña #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javi peña #javier peña fic #javier peña smut #wip wednesday

[slowandsteddie]

Claudia Henderson and Her (Two) Boys

Link to Part One

Link to AO3

I don’t really have a preamble here. Just know that I am incredibly happy to have this one off my WIP list. I’ll probably do a part three at some point where I focus more on her story, but I need to knock some other stuff out first. I never realized how much we are starved for Claudia content until I started trying to write some.

Steve talks about the night that his mother died in this one. Tread carefully if that’s sensitive content for you but you want to read anyway.

2,242 words.

“You never really explained how you got those scars.” Claudia said softly.

She walked into the kitchen and set her bags down on the counter. While that wasn’t the most correct greeting with Eddie sitting across the table from Steve, it did go to show that she saw the guy with matching scars as part of the family. She had been dating his uncle long enough, in any case, to have claimed him as one of her boys.

“Protecting Dustin.” Steve said after a moment.

She ignored the fact that his face went through a lot of emotions over that one, like he couldn’t decide what he was allowed to say to her. She knew there was a cover up of sorts and lots of NDA’s that he had to sign. But surely he could tell her something.

“And, who was protecting you?”

His eyes flicked to Eddie and she noticed the way that both of them blushed. It warmed her heart to know that they were safe with each other, but she’d let them admit what she already figured out in their own time.

—

“She, uh. She caught him cheating on her.” Steve said suddenly.

She sat down the plate that she had been washing, and turned off the faucet after rinsing the soap off her gloves. Claudia turned around to look at Steve. It had been years, and this was the first time that he had talked about it. That night. She didn’t say a word, just watched him as he watched the table.

“She was so calm about it until the other lady left, you know?” His voice caught. “She was calm when she told him that she was going to file for divorce in the morning and that she was going to take everything. Including me. And I was so happy, you know? Because I realized that she did love me…”

Claudia felt tears well in her eyes, but made no move to wipe them. She didn’t even dare to sniffle, in fear that it would get him to clam up.

“Then there was screaming. So much screaming. A bang, and then silence.” He shuddered. “I called Hop when the screaming started. Let him hear it over the phone, even as I… I couldn’t even breathe, mom.”

The word that slipped out made her heart squeeze painfully. He had never called her that so sincerely before. She wanted to wrap him up in her arms, but refused to move. Not until he was ready to look at her. Now wasn’t the time to potentially startle him.

She wanted to go to him, desperately. Wanted to wrap him up tightly in her arms and remind him that he was safe now. But, Claudia knew that if she made a move before he was ready, Steve would react like a cornered animal. And he deserved to feel safe in his own home, damn it.

“My dad tried to find me. Got more pissed when he couldn’t. I think… I think he would have killed me if he found me.” A humorless laugh passed his lips. “Hop found me, first. Knew the room I liked to hide in from finding me there on previous, uh, house calls.”

Claudia’s heart broke. How many times had Steve needed to call Hop before? How many times had her poor boy had to endure knowing that his mother was hurting and he was too young to do anything but hide and call for help and pray?

Her hand went to her throat because she needed to hold something and she wasn’t about to move right now. Steve needed to talk about that night. It was good for him to let it out instead of keeping it bottled inside. She wasn’t going to do anything to make him clam back up. Not unless he asked her too.

“Hop got me out of there so fast. So fast, mom. I was in his car and he was peeling out before the on duty cops even got there.” His voice cracked. “I heard a gunshot and I swear he just drove faster. I never really knew what it was like to feel safe with an adult before, you know?”

Steve had to stop to breathe. To gather himself. Neither one of them acknowledged the tears sliding down his face.

“I was twelve and terrified. I knew that Hop would come when I called. Kind of his job, you know? But I never would have thought that he would…you know, uh… Get me out of there himself and promise me a safe place to stay.” A shuddery breath passed his lips. “He was right, by the way. You are safe. And I’d really love for you to hug me right now, mom. Please.”

That was all Claudia needed to hear. She closed the distance between them and wrapped her boy up in her arms so tight that she could feel his heart pounding as he hugged her just as tight. He was shaking so badly as she whispered soothing words against his ear. He was taller than her, but it was easy to get those gentle words right where they needed to be with the way he curled into her.

“You are mine, Steve Henderson. As long as I have air in my lungs, you are safe and have nothing to worry about. Ever.”

“H-Henderson?” He pulled back, then. Not a lot, but enough.

“Yes. You’ve been a Henderson to me since the day you stepped foot in my house.”

“Can… Can we make that my legal last name?”

“We’ll go Monday.”

—

“Five years and you’re finally a Henderson,” Dustin said with the biggest grin that she had ever seen.

That really did say something because he had this habit of somehow smiling with his entire face when he was genuinely excited. And that happened a lot.

“Ew. The same last name as you? What was I thinking?” Steve teased while pulling him closer. He yanked off his hat and messed up his curls, his fingers not tangling for once. “Nice! You actually brushed it this time.”

“I’ll have you know I did no such thing. This is from when I tricked you into brushing my hair for me last night.”

Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re telling me that you didn’t brush your hair this morning? You woke up in plenty of time, I heard Lukas on your walkie-talkie.”

“Why were you eavesdropping?”

“One. Your friends are loud. Two, don’t change the subject on me.”

That was when Claudia decided to clear her throat. Both boys stopped and looked at her, eyes wide, and she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped.

“Hi, mom,” they said sheepishly.

She held up the envelope. “Steve, you want to do the honors of opening your new documents?”

Steve walked toward her and reached out, delicately taking the envelope from between her fingers before sitting down. Dustin was trying to crowd around him, wanting to be the first to see them with him. She couldn’t help but to smile. Her two boys, brothers in all the ways that mattered.

“Can… Can I wait until Wayne and Eddie get here, too? Want my whole family here for this.”

Her heart swelled with pride and adoration for the teen she had taken in all those nights ago.

“Of course we can wait, baby. Whenever you’re ready.”

Claudia listened as Steve and Dustin went back to the importance of taking care of their hair. She smiled, shook her head, and started putting away the groceries. Usually, she’d ask her boys to help her out. But, Steve seemed to be making headway and she really would love for Dustin to actually brush his hair more than once a week.

She waited for a lull in the heated discussion. “Spaghetti or meatloaf?”

Steve said meatloaf at the same time that Dustin said spaghetti and she was prepared for another argument. But then she heard a cheery “meatloaf!” coming out of Eddie’s mouth as he walked in the front door like he owned the place. Her face broke into a grin, but only because she knew that Wayne wasn’t far behind.

Wayne’s face immediately lit up the second he saw her and it had her blushing like she was still just a school girl. She was almost tempted to try and hide behind her hair, but then she remembered the effort that she had put into the updo and left it alone.

Dusty grumbled and it made her pout at him playfully. “Sorry, baby. You were outvoted, but I’ll make spaghetti when all the leftovers are gone.”

That seemed to appease him for the moment and that was enough for her to start getting all the ingredients together for dinner instead of fretting over her boy. Wayne easily found his way into her space in a helpful way. He did kiss the side of her head when the opportunity arose and Claudia almost squealed over it. Nearly five years and she still got excited over the affection he had to offer.

“Hey, uh. Everyone’s here,” Steve said suddenly.

Claudia nudged Wayne to go take a seat at the table with their boys. She washed her hands before doing the same as she had been messing with raw meat before.

“What’s up?” Eddie asked after a few seconds.

Steve was just staring at the envelope that he had sat on the table after his statement. He cleared his throat.

“I wanted all of my family to be here when I opened it, so I had to wait for Dingus and his uncle to get here.” He cracked a smile.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin. Dingus.” Eddie joking mocked that last word before shuddering.

“Shut up, Ed’s. This is a big moment.” Steve said without any heat. He was too busy grinning.

Claudia smiled, watching the boys bicker.

“Open it, Steve!” Dustin demanded, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m tired of waiting.”

Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly before opening the envelope so carefully. Dustin opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it over the pointed look that Wayne gave him. This was Steve’s moment, Claudia thought, and she was glad that the other adult in the house agreed with her.

He pulled the letter out, carefully unfolding the paper and his eyes scanned the page quickly. His smile just kept getting wider and wider. He turned it around so that everyone could see it when he was finished.

“Officially a Henderson!” He exclaimed and it was met by cheers.

Claudia’s were the loudest of all. While she couldn’t officially adopt the boy who showed up on her doorstep all those years ago, she could give him a family name that doesn’t make him flinch when he hears it. She got up and closed the distance before pulling him into a tight hug that he was quick to return.

It was kind of funny, in a sad sort of way, that Steve couldn’t be adopted because his father, who was in prison, refused to relinquish parental rights — but, they could get his last name changed and it was more or less the same to them.

“I’m so happy,” Claudia murmured against his temple, which she promptly kissed.

That was when the rest of her boys came in to join the hug, effectively squishing Steve into a pile of love and affection that she knew he’d never have to doubt again.

—

Dustin, Steve, and Eddie were all in Steve’s room with some of Dusty’s other friends. They were playing that dice game that she couldn’t seem to understand no matter how much they tried to explain it. What mattered was that there was math and science involved somehow and that they were having fun.

She leaned into Wayne who was sitting beside her on the couch. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she smiled as she settled into him. He placed a kiss on top of her head that left her blushing pretty badly.

He was watching the game with a beer in his other hand. Claudia, meanwhile, had a glass of wine. She was more than content to just sit close and spend time together. Sports was another thing she didn’t know much about. Wayne had tried to explain this game to her and she did get the general idea, but she was never going to be able to remember all of those stats.

“I’m happy for ‘em,” Wayne said at the start of the commercial. “Steve, I mean. He seems so much lighter now that he has your name.”

“I feel like I can breathe easier, now. Like I have some sort of legal claim to him now that we share a last name.” Claudia took a sip of her wine.

Wayne hummed his agreement before taking a drink of his own beer. Apparently it was the last drink because he sat the can on the coffee table and it sounded pretty empty. When he leaned back against the couch, she leaned back into him and rested her hand over his chest.

“I think you should stay tonight,” she said.

Almost like it wasn’t the first time that she invited Wayne into her room while the kids were home. If it shocked him, he didn’t let it show.

“Then I will.”

#stranger things #Claudia Henderson POV #Claudia Henderson and Her Two Boys #Claudia Henderson #Steve Harrington #Steve Henderson #Dustin Henderson #Wayne Munson #Eddie Munson #cw: mentions of death #cw: mentions of cheating #cw: mentions of abuse #let me know if I missed anything #claudia is a good mom

[nottapossum]

@kingofdarkness00 tagged me again. So, I must provide.

WIP Wednesday

Here ya go...

Finally able to give Angel the attention he needs, he sits down with the spider who's holding up a book.

Husk takes it and Angel cuddles up close to him.

The book was ‘If you give a pig a pancake.’ One of Angel's favorite books.

Husk started to read quietly to him as Angel pointed at the pictures and kindly explained to Husk where the pig was in every picture…and everything else he can find.

“Pooh bear!” Angel pointed at a stuffed bear that was on a shelf in the book.

Husk nods. “Mhm. Yup.”

“An Eeyre!”

“And Eeyore.” Husk confirms.

“Duck!” Angel shouts.

“Where!?” Lucifer shouts.

“Yup, the pig has a rubber duck.” Husk tells Angel.

Lucifer nods, understanding now. He's read that book before, too many pig, not enough duck.

He lost all interest and he continued watching TV with Vaggie.

Husk reads on:

“When she's under your bed, she'll find your old tap shoes. She'll try them on, she'll probably need something special to wear with them.”

“Piggy put on shoes!” Angel tells Husk.

“Yes, she did.” Husk confirms.

“Silly.” Angel says.

“Very silly.” Husk nods.

“Piggies don welly wear shoes.” Angel says.

“Not normally.” Husk agrees.

Husk continues reading: “When she's all dressed, she'll ask for some music. You'll play your very best piano piece, and she'll start dancing.”

Angel gasps. “Kitty! Kitty!” Angel pulled a little on Husk's fur, not enough to hurt him, just enough to get his attention.

“It's Husk, Angel. Not kitty. Husk.” He corrects. “Can you say Husk?” He asks. “Or Husker?”

Angel blinks twice and decides to ignore the question. “...Kitty, sunflower!” He shouts.

Husk sighs. “Yes, there's a sunflower on her sweater. Good job.” sounding a bit annoyed with the spider, but he didn't notice.

Angel only giggles happily, so proud of himself.

After the book was done, Angel wanted to play with blocks, so Husk pulled some out for him to play with under the condition that he doesn't make a mess and that he plays carefully.

Probably expecting too much from him, but he can try.

It started to rain outside, so Husk called the girls back in.

And they ran inside…

Covered in mud, which they got all over the floor.

“How- how did you three get so muddy!? How long has it been raining?!” Husk asks in shock.

The three of them are covered head to foot in mud, it only began raining two seconds ago.

Charlie responds enthusiastically. “Oh, it's not from the rain, we made our own mud using the hose!”

Husk takes a deep breath.

It's fine. He can handle this…

Then suddenly, Husk hears a loud 'crash!'

Lucifer defends himself. “It wasn't me!”

The loud noise upsets poor Vaggie who starts bawling her little eyes out.

Husk walks over to try and comfort Vaggie when he sees Angel is not with his blocks anymore. “Where's Angel?”

Lucifer shrugs.

Niffty giggles happily as she starts climbing up on the couch-

Husk snaps. “Niffty, off the couch!”

Niffty's eyes fill up with tears now…

“Niffty, wait. Please don-”

Niffty starts crying loudly, which upsets Alastor, who starts making his loud buzzing-static-y sound.

Shit.

All the other littles scream while covering their ears- completely unhelpful!

“Okay- fuck- Stop!” Husk shouts, which happily shuts most of them up. He tried to keep his composure and not shout at the kids but-

It was just too much!

Possum: This one shouldn't take too long to come out, I don't think. It'll be a fun one for sure.

I tag: whoever wants to do this!

Taglist:

@todayimfour @ask-dusty-boy @im-not-paying-my-taxes @abby5577 @trophyxtissues2

#ittybittysinners #ittybittysinnersq&h #hazbin hotel agere #hazbin hotel age regression #little!alastor #pet!niffty #little!Vaggie #little!angel dust #little!lucifer morningstar #cg!Husk

[bidisasterevankinard]

Wip Wednesday

We are back with angst of and here is two part from "please, stop twisting knife(never wanted to cause your pain)" the chapter 1 where Buck and Eddie tries to choose the ring + pictures of the rings tagged by @diazsdimples @tizniz @wikiangela thank you <3333

“Do you look for something in particular?” the woman, who’s name badge has “Chris” on it, smiles warmly at them and then sends her full attention to Buck. “We have a fantastic blue ring with the Gibeon Meteorite,” she shows them a gray ring with a beautiful blue line between two gray.  “I’m sure it would look perfect with your finance’s eyes. They are so blue and this ring has exactly the same color. Don’t you think so?” she again looks at Eddie, still smiling but now with question in her eyes.

They both are silent for a minute. Buck’s brain is completely gone and he wants to scream from the mixed feeling of excitement that someone decided that Eddie is looking for a ring for him and from pain of the same knife Eddie used to cut him, passing old wounds, he got today, deeper. 

“No, we are…” Eddie starts speaking, but Buck barely hears him. “We are not together together, Buck is my best friend. And I look for a ring for my boyfriend,” Eddie’s voice sounds strangely and Buck wants to scream from the pain that Eddie hates the idea of being mistaken for Buck’s partner so hard. 

-

“Can you please gimme this and that black ring please,” Buck smiles at the seller pointing out two rings. “If I chose the ring for you, I would buy one of these rings. It’s classic and intelligent, gallant and a little bit badass. But most importantly it's unique. It seems too dark, but it's just like you. You need to look deeper to see the best part,” Buck shows Eddie what one ring is golden inside and the other one has the words “I’ll be here”. “When I thought for a second about asking Taylor on our Christmas together, I panicked, but I also already knew I would choose something with the form of leaves and with rubies, because Taylor is fire and leaves can make fire bigger no matter with wind or because they are too dry and burn well. I even found the ring kind of like that. And I felt that it was Taylor's ring. So tell me Eddie. Is this golden band Alec? Can you see him?Can you tell me what you see in this piece of gold?”

tagging @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @ebdaydreamer @eddiebabygirldiaz @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @transboybuckley @underwater-ninja-13 @icecreampotluck @puppyboybuckley @pirrusstuff @anakinfallen @aspecbuddie @shortsighted-owl @spotsandsocks @spaceprincessem @spagheddiediaz @devirnis @daffi-990 @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @honestlydarkprincess @honestlyeddie @hoodie-buck @hippolotamus @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @loserdiaz @caroandcats @loveyourownsmiilee @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @buddierights @buck-coded @buckleydiaz @nmcggg @mandzuking17 @monsterrae1 @steadfastsaturnsrings @malewifediaz and anyone who wants to

#fic: please stop twisting knife(never wanted to cause your pain) #my wips #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #911 #buddie 911 #911 buddie #buck x eddie

[janicho88]

I Got You- Chapter 3

Pairing- Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Female!Reader

Word count- 2,817

Warnings- Language, mentions of domestic violence, injuries, and abuse, abusive boyfriend, hurt reader, protective Jake. Hospital, and police. If I missed something, please let me know.

A/N- Before we get any further into this, there will be a few differences from the movie. Ice was sick, but beat it, the aviators are there for a six-week training, not three. This one has been sitting in my WIP since last fall. First Jake story, I hope I can do him justice. The first few chapters will be a little heavy, but we will move past that. Thank you to @slightly-psycho-multifan for beta'ing!

Summary- When you have finally reached a breaking point, you call the one person you trust for help. He’s never seen you as more than a friend, but he is the person you know you’re safest with.  It’s been months since he has had so much as a text from you, but Jake Seresin would do anything for the Navy princess he met years ago.  The pilot knows she means more to him than he ever will to her, but he will do anything for her.

Series Masterlist

Somewhere along the ride you fell asleep, Jakes’s soft voice stirs you.  It takes you a minute to remember where you’re at, and the soreness you feel is quick to remind you of what has happened.  Finally, it dawns on you that the truck is no longer moving.  Looking out the window you see you’re in a parking lot.  

“We’re just south of Santa Ana, I thought this would be far enough away to stop.  I can’t find a parking place up close, and I don’t want to make you walk any further than you have to.  So I’m going to drop you off by the door, find the first available park in the parking garage I can and be right back.  You can wait by the door or go in and register, alright?”

“Okay,” you croak out.  Is that really your voice?  You must still be a little tired.

Jake pulls up to the door and hurries around to your side to carefully help you out. He sets the peas back down in the bag, as you slowly move away.  Watching you walk up to the door he cringes, your bruises have darkened up since leaving the apartment.  He hadn’t noticed the ones around your neck before, but they definitely stand out now. Once you are safely inside he pulls away to find a parking spot.  Your phone in the passenger seat catches his attention, he wouldn’t put it past the bastard to have some kind of tracker program on there, so he shuts it off until he can deal with that. It takes until the third floor of the small parking garage to find an empty place, but he grabs your IDs he had stuck in the truck console and takes off running as soon as he is out. 

Meanwhile, you have every intention of just waiting inside the door for Jake to come back, but a security guard has caught sight of you and immediately calls someone over.  You keep trying to tell them about your friend, but they aren’t listening, just talking to each other over you.

“He’s coming,” you finally manage to get out loud enough for them to notice.

“Don’t worry honey, you're safe now,” a nurse tells you.

That’s great, you think, but you would feel even safer if Jake was here with you.  It’s a flurry of activity as two nurses take you back to a room and start taking your blood pressure while the other is asking questions, the first one being your name.  When one of them touches near your left wrist you scream.  She carefully pulls back your sleeve and gasps “wow” at the dark swollen wrist. 

“Kelly,” the other nurse quietly reprimands her.

The one asking you questions, Nancy, you read on her name tag finally turns to you, as Nurse Kelly stops prodding.  She seems nice, she looks a little bit older, maybe around your moms age.  “I can see the cuts on your arm, the bruising on your wrist, face and throat.  Is there anything else that hurts you?”

It throws you off when she says your throat has bruises, is that why it hurts to talk?  That’s never bruised before, but then you remember.  Josh had never choked you before tonight.  That is why you were finally scared enough to call Jake.  Before today, there had been some bruises from his hits, and a sprained wrist. Maybe he’d throw a few things at you, or there was that one time two weeks ago you were doing your damnedest to forget. 

“Y/n?  Honey, is there anything else?” Nancy asks again.  “You can even just point to it if that’s easier for you instead of talking.”

Taking inventory of your body, you notice the only other place you hurt is the left side of your chest and you point there.

“Can you tell me how you got these injuries?”

The response you usually go with is falling, or an accident of some kind, but you know you aren’t going back this time.  “My boyfriend got mad at me.”

She talks to you for a few more minutes before leaving.  “I’m going to go over all this with the doctor, and one of us will be right back okay?”

You want to ask about Jake coming back, but they are gone too quickly.  Sitting back against the bed you wait for someone to come back.

Out in the lobby Jake is looking all over for you, it’s a little after 11 pm, but there are still a few people waiting to be seen by an ER doctor.  When he can’t find you, he goes up to the registration desk where a security guard is talking to a young nurse.  She notices the attractive aviator walking up and gives him a smile.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“Hi, my name is Jake, I’m trying to find someone. Her name is Y/N, I just…”

“You’re him, she said you would be here.” She quickly interrupts, her eyes narrowing.   “You have a lot of nerve showing up here.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,’ Jake responds, more than a little confused.  “Can you help me find my…”

“No.  You will not be getting near her.”  Turning to the guard, she speaks to him now.  “Paul, did you say you already called the police for that poor girl?”

“Yeah, they were sending an officer down to take her statement.”

“This is the guy she was trying to tell us was coming.”

“What is going on here?” Jake asks.

The guard turns to look at Jake with disgust, “you and I are going to take a little walk buddy.”

“If that walk is to go find my friend, that would be great.”

“No, you aren’t going to see her again.”

“What is happening?” Jake pushes for an answer.

But that answer never comes for Jake, the guard grabs his arm and pulls him down a hallway and pushes him inside a small empty waiting area.  “You’re going to need to wait in here.”

“Can you please tell me what’s going on, and how my friend I brought in is doing?  I really need to find her.”

The door just shuts in response.  He’s too wired up to sit, just paces the small area hoping someone will give him some answers soon. 

Back in your room, a doctor is just leaving after explaining what lab work she is sending you for.  You are left waiting for someone to come take you for your x-rays, and constantly checking the door for Jake.  Where is he?  He wouldn’t have just left you here, right?

Forty five minutes later, you are finally back in the exam room, still without any word from Jake.  The orderly who took you out of the room, didn’t have any answers for you about someone looking for you.  You aren’t used to carrying a phone anymore, so you had left yours in Jake’s truck.  

A knock at the door has you hoping for your friend, but it’s just nurse Kelly.  Scratch that, nurse Kelly, and a police officer.  The officer gives you a small smile as the nurse begins to speak.

“You don’t have to worry, the police have the guy who you said was coming for you.”

Panic starts to set in, and your heart rate monitor is screaming.  How in the world has Josh found you already?  He should still be at the bar, or passed out with whatever chic took him home tonight.  Where is Jake in all this?  Did he see Josh and go after him?  That would not be good for his career.  Why did you drag him into this in the first place?

The thoughts running through your head would have kept going, if the nurse hadn’t come over to draw you out of it.  When you are paying attention to the two of them again, the officer starts talking.

“We’re holding your boyfriend down the hall, my partner is talking to him right now.  Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“How did he find me here?”

The officer throws a questioning look to Kelly.  “Didn’t you tell them he was coming when you arrived here?  Was he following you?”

Did you tell them that?  You didn’t think so. You weren’t expecting him to find you so soon. All you wanted was Jake here now.  “Do you know where my friend that brought me is?  His name is Jake.  Said he would be right here.”

“Your boyfriend?” Kelly asks, as she remembers the guy's name that came looking for you with disgust.

Shaking your head, you take a small sip of water to coat your throat before speaking again.  “He’s not my boyfriend.  He took me away.”

The two women in the room are slightly confused, the officer speaks first.  “Your boyfriend took you away, or the man that’s here took you away from somewhere?”

“Jake got me out.  Where is he?”  You aren’t even aware of the tears falling down your face from the frustration you are feeling along with the pain from the injuries and the tightness in your throat.  “He said he would be right here, should have been in here by now.”

The officer looks at the nurse, then back to you.  “I’m going to go look into something, I’ll be right back.  

Nurse Kelly is left to try and find something to calm you down.

Jake is dealing with another officer, down in the waiting room.

“Can you tell me your relationship to the patient?”

“We’ve been friends for about eleven years, but I haven’t heard from her for a while before tonight.”

“Did that make you angry?”

“Not as angry as this is.”

The officer does not look impressed. 

“Maybe a little frustrated, hurt I guess.  What does this have to do with me going to see her now?”

“We can’t let you do that.”

“That's what everyone keeps saying, but why the hell not?”

“You know why Mr. Seresin.”

“It’s Lieutenant, actually officer James.”

“Did the military teach you how to do that?  Fight the enemies overseas, and come home and throw a few more punches?”

“What are you talking about?”

It’s then that the door opens and a female officer comes in and asks to speak to her partner in the hall.  Both return a few minutes later.  She starts the questioning this time.  “Can you tell us how your night went?”

“Where do you want me to start?” Jake shoots back trying to avoid rolling his eyes.

“Your first interaction with Miss Kazansky.”

“I was at the Hard Deck, it’s a bar near base in Miramar. Been there maybe 15 minutes when my phone rang.  It was Y/N, she said she needed help, I left and drove up to LA.  I met her at her shared apartment.  When I saw her, I told her she needed to get out of there.  So I packed up her stuff, she wouldn’t let me stop at a hospital there because her boyfriend would find her.  So I drove until we got here.  Now can someone tell me what I’m doing here and why I haven’t been allowed to see her yet?” He finished his recount, struggling to stay calm and not snap at the officers in front of him anymore. 

The two officers look at each other.  “There may have been a small misunderstanding,” James tells him.  “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Ten minutes later one very ticked off Jake Seresin is finally being shown to your room.  After speaking with you one more time, the officers told him they were under the impression he was the boyfriend responsible.  He had to bite his tongue not to say anything that would get him in trouble and keep him from you any longer.  He gave them your address back in LA and what he knew of Josh before leaving them behind.  Jake wasn’t sure how much they could really do about your ex, but that’s a problem for later.

You are extremely relieved to finally see Jake enter your room.  He pauses in the doorway, the sleeves of the hospital gown don’t hide your bruised arms from him.  The doctor knocks on the door right behind him so he doesn’t say anything, just takes a seat right next to you.  Your x-rays are back, your wrist, as everyone figured, is broken.  Luckily the pain around your ribs is just bruising, nothing broken there.  You do have signs of a concussion, and they tell Jake what to watch for should it get worse.  He is also given some prescriptions to get filled for you in the morning.  Once ortho has a cast on your wrist, you are going to be free to go.  

 That takes another hour and finally around 2:30 am, you exit the hospital, with instructions to find an orthopedic doctor in your area and see them in two weeks.  Nurse Nancy waits with you by the door while Jake runs to get the truck. Once he’s back, he hops out to come over and help you inside the cab.  With a ‘thank you’ to Nancy, the two of you are headed back to the highway.  The pain medications they gave you for tonight are starting to kick in.  For once you aren’t leaving the hospital with a giant pit in your stomach.  

It’s quiet between the two of you, but from the corner of your eye you have caught Jake’s hand slide over toward you, before he pulls it back to rest on the center console.  In your tired state it doesn’t dawn on you until you start to see some of the road signs, you aren’t on your way back to Lemoore with Jake.  He wasn’t there when you called him, he said he was at…Oh crap.

“Where are we going?” You ask, suddenly more awake than you were two minutes ago.

Your raspy voice surprises the aviator, and he glances over at you in shock, not having expected to hear anything more from you.

“It’ll be almost 4am by the time we make it back.  I was going to take you back to the house I rented, but I can take you to your parents house if you’d rather?”

“No. No, they can’t know.  Dad would be so disappointed in me.”

“Darling, I don’t think he would.  He might be more inclined to fire a missile at your ex.  Maybe if I ask nicely, he’ll give me the honor.”

“Not funny.  Please don’t tell anyone I’m here, Jake.  Please,” you beg of your friend.  The worry you thought you left behind quickly comes back.

He can hear the panic in your voice, and see you shaking from the corner of his eye. “Okay, okay, if that is what you want, I won’t say a word.”

“Thank you.”

When you arrive at the house not too far from base, Jake rushes around to help you out of the truck, and grabs some of your things before assisting you up the walk.  Once inside, he leads you to the couch, while he does a quick check of the house.  Not that he really thinks Josh is here, but just for a peace of mind.  When Jake’s sure you’re alone, he comes back to check on you before getting the rest of your things from the car and locking the house up tight. 

“I don’t have extra bedding for the guest room, but you can stay in my room tonight and I’ll take the couch.  Alright Princess?” he quietly asks.

Slowly shaking your head, you can’t even look at him when you whisper, “I don’t want to be alone.”

It takes Jake's tired brain a minute to process that. “Does that mean you want to hang out on the couch with me or..”

“We both need some sleep, will you lay with me please?”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help you darlin. I got you, always.”

Jake grabs the bags with your clothes and you follow him up to the bedroom.  He allows you to use the bathroom first.  While you are in there he pulls a tshirt and some gym shorts out of his drawer for you to sleep in.  He figures you can sort through your things tomorrow, or later today.  While you change in the bedroom, Jake slips into the bathroom, coming out in a shirt and boxers.

 He guides you to the side of the bed away from the door and lifts the covers up for you to crawl in.  Moving to the other side of the bed, he situates himself making sure to give you plenty of space.  The last thing Jake wants to do is make you uncomfortable.  After the rough night, it doesn’t take long for either of you to pass out.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 4

IGY Masterlist

@dempy @fox-bee926 @acarboni21 @novagreen04 @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @bethbunnyy @senjoritanana @abaker74 @mygyn @lynnevansss @m-rae23 @djs8891 @supraveng @loving-and-dreaming

#top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #tw abuse #tw dv mention #tw injury

[witchersmistress]

Dancing Naked under the full moon

Hello my darlings! my WIPs are never ending so here i am try to tackle them into the ground lmao

Summary: this was a request by the lovely @livesinfantasyland from 101 kinky prompts #72 secret hook-ups starring the beloved August Walker and he just of course had to be a brat for me..

trigger warnings: weapons, orgy, voyerisum, rough sex, choking, threats, p in v., violent fingering, breath play, forced orgasm, and ire at me.

word count: 2.5K

 August’s POV

I know they say when you go undercover you need to play your part well  so here I am going to an orgy in the woods. This is fucking weird but  i cannot risk blowing my cover. Mike shut his car door behind me, and tossed me a black robe and half black mask. “Here put these on” as he put on his mask. Rolling my eyes I put them on and followed him into the clearing.

Pushing through the last of the brush, the light from the bonfire lit the path before us. Men and women all in different stages of undress, fondled, fornicating and playing under the bright moonlight. There were two women, playing with one man. Someone chased a young lady through the woods while he howled, another woman was on all fours with one man, on his back underneath her, one was in her ass and the third gentleman was in her mouth and the girl, she looked like she was having the time of her life with these men. 

Mike had already wandered off to join a group of people. Across the fire stood a breathtaking woman, with long hair down to her waist, in a grey chiffon dress, with silver arm bands, with more fabric flowing from them, her dress trailed behind her as she moved from her makeshift throne and through the mass of people as she approached me, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she handed me a gold and silver tipped arrow.  She walked passed and towards what i think were her guards, she whispered something to one of them, and proceed  to walk down a moonlight  path

One of the guards approached me and grabbed my arm, dragging me to the path she disappeared down. “You have until dawn to find her” one spoke in a gruff tone and pointed after her. A horn sounded in the distance and everyone went crazy, ripping everything off but the mask they wore and they began to chase. Disrobing myself, I took off down the path after her. A high pitched shriek came from my left as a woman was tackled to the ground, I kept following the path, guards scattered about the forest floor. A streak of grey flashed in the corner of my eye as she ran past me, I chased after her as she let out a bell sounding laughter as I chased after her. 

Slowing my speed, I began to creep and look for signs of her. She let out a wild giggle as she looked around a tree, and I flanked to the right of her tree as she turned around to look around it. Sneaking up behind her, I wrap an arm around her waist, and the other hand covers her mouth before she lets out a blood curdling scream. “Shhh my little demon”  moving my hand from her mouth to her throat, I squeezed ever so slightly, her breath hitched. I walked her towards a clear spot and there we saw the women and her three men again but this time, she was bouncing on the cock of one man while she watched the other 2 aggressively hate fuck one another. 

Leaning back against the tree, the bark biting into my skin, i spread my legs and tuck her in between them and hold her in place, she glanced at me with question flashing in her eyes ``Shh little demon just watch” gripping her jaw and turning her back to the scene before us. Gliding my under her dress,. I trace small delicate circles into the soft supple skin of her stomach, feeling the goose bumps rise on her skin. Slowly moving my hand lower till I find her silky smooth cunt. Arching an eyebrow, I let out a low rumble of a laugh “No panties? Spreading her thighs with my hand, I sink a finger into her wet pussy and swirl it around. I can feel her wall tightening as I slowly pump my finger in and out of her. “Fuck you are so tight” i whisper in her ear as she grips my forearm, “Does it excite you to watch her? Getting fucked by not one  but three men? Every hole filled and using her how they want till she cant take it anymore” adding  2 more fingers i pump in and out of her fast while my thumb circles her clit in fast circles.  “That's my good girl, cum for me little demon”  burying her face into my neck as she let out a scream and her knees buckled. I wrapped my free arm around her waist to keep her from falling to the ground.

She sagged against me as she tried to catch her breath. The group we were watching had chased  their girl off into the woods again. Her glittering eyes looked at me behind her silver mask. Scooping her up and making my way back on to the path, we came across one of her guards, one shook his head and the other one spoke “Follow me” as soon as we walked away with her, the other guard busted out laughing as we continued down the path to a small clearing that held a large white teepee “No one will bother you here until morning” he held the flap open for us as i ducked under and laid her down on the pile of pillows in the middle of the room.

Stretching out across the pillows she reminded me of a cat, lounging in the window on a sunny day. On her hands and knees her back is arched and her ass is up in the air and she is shaking it every so slightly. The little demon, letting out a low growl, grabbing her hips , I slam my front into her ass and hear her whimper. A smile curls at my lips as I do it again. Pushing the gauzy fabric up her pale  thighs and over her deliciously round ass and spanking her. She let out a pitiful whine as I did it again. Sitting back on my feet I pull her into my lap and wrap my forearm around her waist and anchor her to my body.

Pulling my cock out from the boxers and pumping it a few times before sliding it between her slick thighs, she whined and Gyrated her hips to seek some kind of pressure. I let out a low groan as I lined out the head of my swollen cock with her wet entrance. She mewled as I slowly sank into her wet heat. “ So fucking tight” I said through gritted teeth. Finally bottoming out I stopped and gave her some time to adjust to my size.

She breathed heavily while trying to get comfortable, I slowly began to buck my hips as she let out these cute little cries. Grabbing her hips, I rocked her back and forth, wrapping her arms around my neck. She leaned back as she moaned wildly. Leaning down I sunk my teeth into her neck and she jerked her body in response, as I released the skin on her neck, to her chest, then her voluptuous breast before taking her pert nipple and pulling it into my mouth.

Her hands clawed up the back of my hair and she gyrated faster. My right hand moving from its laxed position, skirted down the front of her stomach between her wet thighs to her clit that I began to circle. “Please please please” she begged me. Whine back at her, mockingly “ please I'm begging you. Fuck” I sharply groan as I picked up the pace on the assult on her body. “Your so fucking wet little demon”  Taking my free hand i wrapped it around her neck and squeezed cutting off her airway, moving my hand on her hips i began to drag her hips back and forth, the head of my cock hitting her g spot as she writhed against me, trying to loosen my grip on her throat. I could feel her walls tightening around me, her moans coming out almost silently. “If you want to breathe you’ll come for me. Right. Fucking. Now” she obeyed beautifully. She came apart on my cock, squeezing it so tightly that I came shortly behind her. With a grunt I released her throat. She took in a long breath as her body twitched against me as she struggled to catch her breath as she came down from her orgasm.  Tucking a long strand of her hair behind her ears as I pulled her off my softening cock.

Laying her down on the bed of pillows and blankets, covering her with one, I got up and grabbed a towel, dampened it with water, opened her legs and began to clean her up. She hummed softly as she watched me. Wiping myself off and throwing the towel to the side. Grabbing a few logs off the wood pile and placing them in the dying fire. Pushing them around getting the fire roaring back to life. I tucked myself in behind her as I draped a blanket over us and pulled her into my chest, kissing her shoulder blades.

 I murmured in her ear “You did so well little demon rest now, you'll need your strength for later.” she rolled over and threw her leg over my hip. “Who said I need to rest?” she purred, pushing on my chest she pushed me to my back and climbed on top, my cock was back at full attention as she reached back and unzipped her dress and pulled it over her head. Her voluptuous teardrop shaped breast bounced as they settled back into place. Running her hands up her curvy figure, grabbing her breast, pushing them together and squeezing them before letting them go. “ Well then my little demon, since you don't need to rest, then ride me” she gave me a shit eating grin and a wicked glint in her eye as she started on her task.

Her POV

* in the wee hours of the morning*

Rolling over, I stretched out, my body ached but in a good way, grabbing an additional blanket, I covered  my chest as a truck pulled up. “ it's just me,” a voice called. It was Lyla, she opened the flap and made her way inside. Dropping off my bag with all my stuff and some clothes for him. She gave me a wicked smile and a wink. “How was he? Did the rumors prove true?” she wiggled her eyebrows at me in a seductive manner as laid some wood on the fire.  Rolling my eyes, and standing up. “Thank you Lyla, i’ll see you later” she clicked her tongue at me “ Spoilsport you are no fun” picking up an apple from the fruit basket, i took a bite and smiled “That's not what he said” she threw her head back with a laugh and walked out.

Turning my back to her, I leaned on the tall table and just watched him. His usual quaffed hair disheveled from sleep and sex, his jaw relaxed, he was as dreamy as they said he would be, but he is a wolf in sheep's clothing.Pulling up Spotify and playing Austin Giorgio’s Lips of a witch on a low volume, dropping the sheet, i began to dress, watching his sleeping figure from the corner of my eye. Pulling in my black leather boots, zipping them and standing up. I pulled my black leather gloves and my Glock 20 along with my suppressor. Walking over to him I kneel down to his sleeping form.

Sweeping a piece of hair from his face. The world's most dangerous man was asleep at my feet. Pulling the black mask from his face. August Walker, Top CIA weapon laid before me. His breath was steady and even, screwing on the suppressor, I held the gun an inch from his temple, one pull of the trigger and my mission would be complete. What I was trained from a young age, by my father.

I went to pull the trigger  but I didn’t. I've enjoyed our game of cat and mouse so far to let it end. Removing my finger from the trigger and putting the safety on, I popped one bullet from the chamber and stood from my spot. My father will be displeased that he is still breathing but that man is always displeased in what I do. Walking back to my bag, I tucked the gun away and pull out a sheet of paper and left him a little note with my silver mask and bullet.

 Throwing a leg over my motorcycle, to make sure my backpack was secure, I looked back at the teepee one last time. Bringing the engine of the bike to life with a roar, I put my helmet on, visor down and rode off into the wee hours of the morning.

August’s POV

The sound of a motorcycle engine woke me from a sound sleep. Reaching up to rub my face, my mask must have come off in my sleep. Looking up at the center of the teepee, my right hand resting comfortably on my chest, I reached my left arm out to find my little demon. But her spot was vacant, still warm as if she had just gotten up a few moments ago. Sitting up I looked for her but it was empty, except for her silver mask glinting at me from the nearby table. Standing from the makeshift bed and grabbing my discarded boxers and sweatpants left for me. 

I walked to the table and picked up her mask, sparkling in my hand. Underneath was a note in delicate  handwriting:

Until we meet again…

And on that piece of paper was a single bullet, that was meant for me… picking up that bullet, I clutched it in my hand and seethed. She was going to kill me. She was going to kill me.. I growled my frustration as I looked over the note again and the bullet. I felt the rag beneath my skin begin to ebb. She was going to kill me.. But she didn't.. Why? She had me right where she wanted me, ik was defenseless and helpless while sleeping, she didn't do it why? I walked back and forth racking my brain to figure out why my little demon did it, then it clicked.

She wanted to play a game. The clever girl, i didn't know what she looked like without a mask, she gave me no way to track her. Not even with the bullet, it looks like it came from a Glock 20, a common handgun and looks like factory made bullets, smart girl. Making my way out of the teepee I looked up to see the tail lights of a motorcycle pulling away. My little demon thinks he can run from me?  That there is no way on earth I will find her?? A wicked grin  was plaster across my face. My little hellion, I will find you and when I do. I’ll fuck you and kill you. “See you soon little demon” I whispered into the wind and watched as it chased after her. Game on little demons. Game on.. 

#august walker #august walker imagines #henry cavill characters #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x you #august walker fanfic #henrycavill smut #august walker fanfiction

[ubejamjar]

15 Lines of Dialogue Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Tagged by the darling @thevikingwoman ! Thank you ❤️

Tagging (with much affection): @viiioca @pumpkinmagekupo @paintedscales @thewitchofelpis @otherworldseekers @sasslett @khaiens

Ajisai is what happens when you take a girl from a Doman backwater, beat Imperial rhetoric into her, then set her loose in Limsa Lominsa . She’s rough around the edges, but, gods be damned, she’s trying. Very “If I don’t laugh I’ll cry.”

Remember, you can take the rat out of the street but you can’t take the street out of the rat.

1) “I’m not trying to provoke anyone,” she protests, because that would suggest she hadn’t succeeded. 2) “What in the hells is ‘crudités’?” 3) “Respectfully, I disagree— that is a stupid idea.” 4) “I am well aware this is none of my business, that’s why I’m doing it.” 5) “No no, don’t stress yourselves out, I’ll handle it.” 6) “It does sound stupid when you say it, which is why I’m doing the talking.” 7) “When in doubt, run and hide. Scream at your own discretion.” 8) “I brought you flowers because I— you look— you are— you fight well.” 9) “Actually it’s ‘And to each soul, the Fury imparts a trial; by fire and ice shalt thou be tested, and through perseverance shall thy spirit be tempered’. Honestly, it’s as if you’ve never read the scriptures.” 10) “That wasn’t a stupid question— you just gave a stupid answer. It’s indicative of lackluster critical thinking skills.” 11) “I believe I misunderstood what a ‘high society party’ would entail and I must say I am sorely disappointed.” 12) “I am not above selling my body. The problem is no one can afford me. It’s tragic, really.” 13) “It’s alright, little star. Nothing’s going to harm you, not while I’m here.” 14) “I wasn’t going to ask if you slept well, I know you didn’t. I was asking if you’d like cream and sugar with your coffee.” 15) “It’s called a ‘charcuterie board’ because the nobility would never serve their guests ‘cheese and cold meats on a plank’.” Ajisai slips on her best Ishgardian impression with a haughty wave of her hand, “Pray Reynardanaud, prepare a charcuterie, we’re expecting the Lord and Lady de Dullard for dinner this evening, and you know how the lord loves his meat.”

I don’t have any actual WiPs at the mo. For writing. I have two art WiPs and a fucking character profile I need to finish and an ask box crying, pleading to be emptied. These are like if Ajisai had dialogue as a Dragon Age companion, it's fine, let's not dwell on it.

Thanks again for the tag, lethallen!!

#ajisaijar #writingjar

[colgatebluemintygel]

Pls tell me about oao for the wip ask game

HELLOOO EL my beloved mutual ... oao well.. it's just this silly little thing that i've been working for er ... nearly 2 years 😇 hehe allow me to share some lil deleted snippets with you <3333

from: tuscany part one

Sirius suddenly feels sad and furious all at once. He’s sad that this is a side of Regulus that he’s not allowed to see anymore. He’s furious at Regulus for maintaining this inexplicable distance that seems to have developed between them. Where had everything gone so wrong? Sirius doesn’t even want to answer that question. Where hadn’t it? At some point, they’d stopped talking to each other; Sirius self-destructed and tore through that house like a comet. Regulus retreated so far into himself that Sirius is certain that he left a part of himself behind in that house. Sirius doesn’t blame him. Sometimes he feels the same; that he’s permanently lost a vital part of himself. Perhaps that’s why Sirius is so desperate for love; to feel loved. To feel wanted. To fill the void he feels inside himself. To fill the gaping wound inside himself. And, if Sirius is honest with himself, he’s jealous. He’s horribly, dangerously jealous: he’s jealous that Regulus, who grew up in the same loveless environment as him, has found not just one but two people to spend his life with. Sirius couldn’t even hold down one. And if he’s honest with himself, what Alphard had said the day before had been completely right: the love had long worn off between him and Emmeline. He’d clung to her like a raft. The fear of being alone was worse than whatever hadn’t been working between them.

from: tuscany part two

Sirius remembers the way that Walburga’s face would ripple and contort, her mouth a tight, white line as she’d say, ‘Regulus is a good child, quiet. Not like you were.’ Her comments always perplexed Sirius. he doesn’t remember himself ever making much noise at all. In fact, most of Sirius’s childhood memories involve him trying to take up as little space as possible.  He remembers the time that they passed Hamleys and he got a bit teary-eyed because Walburga always refused to let him go inside. He remembers her eyes flaring like quicksilver and the tight grasp of her hand around his wrist as she led him to a nearby restaurant bathroom. He remembers how the lemongrass soap had burned on his tongue for hours afterwards. He’s never liked lemon, since.  He has plenty of other memories just like it, accompanied by all the others that he tries his best to forget. Even now, Regulus will make the odd comment about how Sirius rebelled, in ways both small and large, quiet and loud. Sirius doesn’t remember those moments. What he does remember is trying to make himself so small, so quiet and insignificant, that he constantly felt like he was bursting at the seams.  Sirius remembers trying so hard, all the time. Regulus remembers Sirius not trying at all. He’s always found it strange how people remember the same events. He wonders how it felt when he was even younger and didn’t know any better than to throw himself down on the ground and scream. Sirius wonders if he’s ever really, truly screamed. He feels like he’s stuck there, sometimes. Stuck in that limbo, that precipice, between a child who screams because they don’t know better, and a child who no longer needs to scream because they’ve learnt how to process their emotions in other ways. Yet, Sirius doesn’t scream, and he doesn’t throw a tantrum. Instead, he slouches back in his seat and stares out the window.

from: berlin??? i think..

The pieces start to slot into place. He remembers their uni years, and how Remus would disappear every night for a few hours, always to reappear looking pink cheeked and messy haired. Even when their lives started to become more separate, their flats scattered across different London boroughs, Remus would always find his way back to Sirius’s flat at the end of the night. He remembers Emmeline the first few times it happened, face drawn and tired, answering the door at 4 am. “It’s Remus,” she’d say, tired and annoyed. “Isn’t there somewhere else he can stay? He has his own flat—“ Then, after the twentieth, fiftieth time, nothing. Remus would always be gone in the morning. They never talked about it. It never struck Sirius as odd until now.

#oao #el tag

[eleccy]

Kristoph Gets Fawkin Murdered While Apollo Is Still Working For Him AU WIP

I have no idea if I'm going to write more of this but I'd like to gauge what the interest is in this scenario. Several people seemed interested in my post from a bit ago about an AU where Kristoph is killed while Apollo is working for him similarly to Mia and Phoenix's situation. BUT, there's a twist. Somehow it turned into.... this.

Let me know what you think. Full WIP is below the cut...

(CW for semigraphic details of violence/injury and use of weapons)

---

At first, Apollo thinks that Kristoph must be out of the office. "Hello? Sir? I brought the documents you requested…"

But the lights are on, even though there's nobody at Kristoph's desk. Kristoph wouldn't leave the office without turning the lights off.

Apollo steps further into the room, almost mindlessly. There doesn't seem to be anyone in here, after all-

And then-

Apollo takes a step back when he sees what he's certain must be Mr. Gavin's corpse.

Apollo has seen what images of dead people look like - he knows. Mr. Gavin is lying supine on the floor, red blood trickling down his temple and forming a small puddle on the floor. His shiny glasses are some feet away, smashed to smithereens - it looks like someone has stepped on them with force. His eyes are closed; he's completely still. His hair's undone, tangled blond sticky with blood. He's been beaten badly - dark bruising blooming over one eye, and his cheekbone, but the head wound appears to be the worst of it.

Apollo doesn't move, can't move. This is the worst of his worst nightmares. He knew that Phoenix Wright had found his mentor, Mia Fey, in a similar state, just like this. And she didn't make it.

Next thing he knows, Apollo is surging forward with a cry, adrenalin driving him on. He drops to his knees near Kristoph's body. Getting a better look doesn't help matters. He's really dead. Somebody… somebody killed him. Tears spring to his eyes. Mr. Gavin had taught him everything he knew about law. Mr. Gavin… cared about him. And that was one more person that Apollo just had to lose, from his biological father, to his adoptive father, to…

No use crying now. Have to start investigating. Now! Apollo had to find the culprit. Whoever did this had to deal with Justice.

Just then, Apollo heard a quiet sound in the otherwise silent room. He stared at Mr. Gavin's corpse. The sound came once again.

…Was it… a soft moan?

Apollo's first thought was that he didn't want to put his fingerprints onto a corpse, especially if it could ruin other evidence for forensics. But now…

Apollo's hand dropped delicately to Kristoph's pulse point. "M… Mr. Gavin, can you hear me? It's Justice!"

After a very long moment, Apollo watched as Mr. Gavin's eye twitched, definitely a twitch, one time, two times, then slowly opened, pained and hazy. Apollo almost fell over with relief.

But he wasn't out of the woods yet. And there was a chance he might not make it.

Fumbling his phone, Apollo dialed for an ambulance as fast as he was able, blurting out the first thing he could think to ask as he did so. "Sir, tell me, who did this to you? Who did this?"

Another soft moan, barely even audible. It was clear Kristoph couldn't move, could barely talk. He's probably in a lot of pain… But his lips were moving, and Apollo had to drop to the floor to hear the barely-there whisper. "E… Enigma…"

"Enigma? Enigma?" Apollo didn't know any Enigma, but it was better than nothing. The other end of the line picked up and Apollo screamed down it as loud as he could. "Hello?? We need an ambulance, please, at Gavin Law Offices, Mr. Gavin is-"

"Slow down, if you please - what's the address of the emergency, sir?" The woman on the other end of the line sounded tired, but she did stay on the line with Apollo while they waited for an ambulance to arrive.

"Does he have a pulse?"

"Y-yes, but it's very weak, there's blood everywhere, and-"

"Is he breathing?"

"Yes, but just barely, please send somebody soon-"

"They're on their way to you, kid. Just tell me if anything changes."

"It'll be okay." Apollo promises. Apollo isn't good at being soothing in an emergency. That's usually Mr. Gavin's job. All Apollo can try to do is think of how he would handle this situation. He'd tell me to calm down, breathe. Assess my options. Stay alert, but relax.

Mr. Gavin's hand seems okay where it's lying limply at his side. Not knowing what else to do, Apollo picks it up, holds it, and tries to be comforting - but realistically, this is a time where he'd want to hold his mentor's hand anyway, if it were somebody else bleeding out on the ground, so it's as much for Apollo's comfort as Kristoph's. They breathe, they wait, they watch, and Kristoph watches Apollo dimly out of the one eye that he can open.

"S'all gonna be okay." Apollo forces a smile out. Then he has to get up to let the paramedics in with the stretcher. Apollo thinks about asking to ride along in the ambulance, but Kristoph is so out of it that Apollo is pretty sure it won't matter if he just jumps on his bike and books it to the hospital ahead of the triage team.

-

Apollo sits in the waiting area of the triage center for a long time. Every hour he gets up to speak with reception and begs them for an update, and every time he is denied, until hour six.

A nurse takes him aside, and tells him.

Apollo is empty inside. Kristoph didn't make it.

-

The only person at the funeral who really cried was Kristoph's little brother, and Apollo could understand that.

Klavier hugs him, thanks him very deeply and sincerely for staying.

"You know," Klavier says, wiping away the tears that just seem to keep on coming, "I know that you being there really comforted him. It brings me so much comfort to know that he wasn't all alone. Thank you. Thank you."

"It… it was the least I could do." I should've done so much more. I should've been there. I should've saved him. If we had both fought, we would have been able to take whoever did this. We could've beaten Enigma… Apollo's whole body aches.

An Enigma. A puzzle.

Apollo checks the guestbook several times for anybody's signature that even looks something like "Enigma". But nothing jumps out.

"Mr. Wright."

"Sorry. I shouldn't be hanging around here."

"Weren't you Mr. Gavin's friend?"

"Yeah, I was. But he wouldn't want me showing up to this. Hey, listen. I want you to go to Central Hospital later today. Go to the tenth floor and ask to see David Krisler."

"Wh-what?"

"Four PM. No later. I'll see you there."

-

Apollo shows up as requested.

He feels funny, asking to visit somebody that he doesn't even know. What will he say if the nurse asks what his relation to the man is?

But nobody asks. The nurse brings him past a set of double doors and all the way to the end of the corridor. "He's in there. They're expecting you." is all she says before shuffling away.

More confused than ever, Apollo steps into the room. Is this some sort of a setup? What the hell did Mr. Wright lead me into?

The room is dim and warm, with all the window blinds down, and just one light on. Behind a sterile drape on the other side of the room, Apollo catches snippets of a conversation.

"-and not for nothing, but I'll know it when I see it-"

"Kris, the chances of anyone figuring anything out are about a million to one-"

The two people talking are Mr. Wright, and a very familiar voice. Apollo's heart surges as he takes a few quick steps forward, behind the curtain.

Both people go quiet and look up at him straightaway, Mr. Wright and none other than Mr. Gavin himself. Mr. Wright sits in a plastic chair at the side of a hospital bed. Mr. Gavin is in said hospital bed, which has been reclined to a level at which he can sit up most of the way. He still doesn't have his glasses, and his hair is a mess and he looks worse for wear, with big purple bruises covering one side of his face and his left eye swollen almost completely shut. The side of his head is bandaged and he looks awfully exhausted besides all that. Apollo isn't used to seeing him like this - weak, supine, vulnerable. It makes him look like a stranger. But he gives Apollo a tired smile.

"Close the door, Apollo. We've got a lot to talk about." Mr. Wright says evenly.

Apollo does. When he walks back to the bed, he realizes that there are no more seats. "Go ahead and sit at the foot of the bed if you're comfortable, Apollo. This is going to take awhile."

"Okay. I… I have so many questions I don't even know how to start, but… your funeral was today, sir."

"I heard."

"But… but you're not dead."

"Correct. Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated." Kristoph takes a slow, labored breath.

Apollo sniffs hard and wipes tears out of his eyes. He can't help this. Every time his adrenalin runs down and he's relieved, this happens. He can't help but become a crying mess.

"Can I… do you mind if I… h-hug you?"

Kristoph and Phoenix both laugh lightly. Apollo doesn't see what's funny about any of this. "I don't think you'd better, Apollo, not right now. Your boss is a bit fragile right now, so maybe no touch is the way to go." Phoenix says. Even though Phoenix says it, Apollo looks to Kristoph, who doesn't say anything in response to that, doesn't nod, but neither does he object, indicating that he agrees with Phoenix's assessment.

Apollo knows that Mr. Gavin doesn't like hugs very much, regardless of what's going on, but Apollo wanted the comfort and confirmation so badly that he'd thought there'd be no harm in asking. Now he bites his tongue. He won't ask any more silly questions.

"We… we have to go tell Klavier that you're alive. He'll be so happy, he-"

"Apollo, we can't tell anyone."

"…What? Why not?"

"If the one who attacked me knew I was still alive and kicking… he'd no doubt return to finish the job."

"Y-you mean Enigma?"

"Yes, Enigma. His full name is Shadi Enigmar. He is my assailant. Of that, I am certain." Kristoph nods with the utmost seriousness. "You must find him, corner him in court, and bring him to Justice. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Once this matter is dealt with, I may be able to reveal my ruse. But until then, here I will stay. Until that time, Phoenix will be in charge of this case, and of you."

"Of… of me?"

"I can think of no one better to keep an eye on you, Justice. I want you to follow his words as if they were my own."

Kristoph sighed deeply. "There is another reason why. Shadi Enigmar is a very dangerous and deceitful man. He shows no mercy in his choice of victim - young or old, it's all the same to him. The last thing I want is for you to come to harm because of your connection to me. Unfortunately, you are likely his next target, but Wright will protect you with his life if need be. He's my good friend, and I trust him in this regard."

"This is a very dangerous assignment. I don't want you taking any unnecessary risks." Kristoph hands Apollo a piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"The combination code to my gun safe."

Apollo shudders. "Wh-what?"

"Yes. Even when you aren't investigating, you need to be carrying all the time, no matter where you are."

"I barely know anything about guns!" Who does he think I am?? James Bond?

"Wright will show you the proper methods. Obviously, it's for self defense purposes only. You need to be able to protect yourself. Had I been able to reach a weapon in time, all of this may have gone differently, no?"

"I don't want to shoot anybody."

"Well, when the time comes, you'll know what to do. I should hope you will protect yourself in due course."

Kristoph takes his hand in his. "Be smart and be safe."

---

That's all I have for now... :P (don't ask me what happens next because I don't know... you tell me lol)

#kristoph gavin #apollo justice #ace attorney #ace attorney apollo justice #aa4 #this has so much potential tbh #i needed some more of that krisnix being married and also apollos parents #and just not telling apollo anything. that energy from 4-1. i need more of that #and kristoph whump. yes. we need so much more kristoph whump in this fandom #hes pretty when hes suffering......

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi, hope both of you are doing great. This is for Writing Wednesday. Can you write where Alec is the Trueblood heir because he has some sort of Family gift, like sentient hadow wielding? Sentient shadows that are VERY attached to Magnus because they feel safe around him or something? Always felt that it was a damn shame the series never delved more into this other than the Fairchild's

Also because I forgot in my effort to post before I ran out of energy but you’re so sweet so an answer!

We are both doing good! Just tired and a little sore from keeping up with a puppy. Nightshade is very uh… emotional and he punished @saeths because I woke up to give the puppy kisses when Nightshade asked and saeth pushed him away so we have a very grumpy pup that is only angry with saeth. So when saeth woke up to take meds, Nightshade decided to tap dance on their body and then try and eat their toes in revenge for being ignored. Mind you, he’s ten months so he’s still learning manners but boy his little toe beans know exactly where to poke to cause the most pain.

And then Saeth crashed again and Nightshade went into the bathroom to cry in the tub and now he’s outside ‘guarding the house with his favorite stuffie’ and sulking.

(Btw, Nightshades preferred method of waking someone up is getting on the bed and staring at them until the sheer panic of being stared at hits your instincts and you wake up… though that might just be me since it never works on saeth, they just push him away while I give Nightshade kisses and end up getting my face washed)

okay so this might be my last fill for the night because this was quite a bit heavier than i expected to go but like. it went far different than what i'd planned so i hope you like it and uh. warning for shitty lightwood parenting (child abuse)

this is gonna need a second or third and possibly fourth chapter and i love your prompt anon, i really do. but everyone keeps giving me these glorious ideas that turn into wips and i just. you all are on point with the prompts. this is like the 10th one thats turned into a two shot or more

oh also baby alec

-

Alec knows he’s the Lightwood heir. It’s why his parents married, to bring new blood into the Lightwood lineage and while the Trueblood’s had once been just as powerful, their powers had faded through the centuries.

Alec is supposed to be the culmination of two ancient bloodlines. Born of a bridal sacrifice from a marriage between an already diminished bloodline to the fading Lightwood house.

And it works. 

Just not in the way anyone thinks of hopes.

Alec is seven the first time he’s struck for no reason. It’s not training, it’s not sparring, it’s not anything except he disappointed his parents.

He feels cold after, the pain fading but the betrayal lingering and the next day, he feels dazed. Like the world is a new place and he is rediscovering it. 

Alec doesn’t show his face all day. Not to anyone, even Izzy and especially not to his parents.

He ignores when they finally notice he’s missing, screaming and calling him until they upgrade to threats. He doesn’t notice the disturbed looks being sent at his parents, or the concern that is growing as Alec continues not to be found.

Alec stays hidden, alone and sustained by the shadows until he feels strong enough to face them. He doesn’t know what he looks like, when he crawls out of a hidden alcove and takes the shadows to the observation room. 

His mother looks pale, almost frail when he sees her and he doesn’t really get it. She doesn’t look as scary now, as when her palm had connected with his cheek. It’s the same with his father, from the glimpses he’s seen, the man looking smaller, not as tall and menacing as he did when he’d cuffed both of Alec’s ears and yelled at him for an over for forgetting an answer the same day mother struck him. 

Of the two, it’s his mother he’s willing to face first because even if she struck first, her blow was the softer of the two so he steps out of the shadows and speaks for the first time in longer than he knows has passed.

“Mother.”

—

Maryse turns, relief flooding her even as anger fights to overwhelm it. 

It’s been nine days.  Nine days since her heir, her son — the very reason for her marriage has been missing — and Maryse doesn’t understand how or why he disappeared.  She turns, ready to berate him, to scold him, to make him understand that whatever happened is unacceptable and can’t happen again. Because she has to make him know he can’t ever disappear like he did again, and then she’ll take him to her private quarters and hold him close in a way she hasn’t allowed herself since Izzy was born.

But when she turns to look at him, words already formed on the tip of her tongue, she can’t.

Because her son is truly her son, she realizes as she shakes and grips the railing and tries not to wail.

The son in front of her is not the heir she birthed, nor the heir she was married to Robert for.

The son that is in front of her is a Trueblood heir, through and through and Maryse’s soul aches with the loss she knows she’s been dealt.

Because Alec doesn’t trust her.

Maryse understands that in an instant. Can tell by the way that shadows flicker around him and dance at his feet, daring her to come close enough for them to strike.

“Alec—” she whispers and ignoring all the shadowhunters watching her, she carefully slips out of her heels and gets on her knees. “Hi baby.” She says, just as quietly but Alec doesn’t react, like he doesn’t understand the meaning of the endearment. In that moment, Maryse feels more hollow than when she realized she wouldn’t survive the Circle, that her heir and unborn baby wouldn’t survive Valentine.

Because Alec is looking at her like she’s the monster he needs to hunt, to watch for, to be wary of, to kill.

And Maryse can’t remember the last time she was soft enough to him for him to trust her, what words or gestures will bring him back to her and not further away.

He tilts his head, beautiful hazel eyes hidden behind the darkness of shadows and watches her like a predator watches a possible opponent. 

“I’ll be in my room, mother,” he says and he nods like he’s a shadowhunter giving a report. Like he’s telling his commander his whereabouts and not his mother who has been missing and grieving him for over a week.

“Alec,” she calls after him hesitantly, forcing herself not to follow him. “Baby—” she tries again to no avail, “have you eaten? Have you drank anything?” 

Because Maryse hasn’t let herself worry about her son, her first baby, and now she sees his wane face and she wonders if it was less because she was focused on finding him, or if it was because it was easier not to care about him. 

“I take care of myself.” Alec says, his little voice too young and high for how cold it is and he refuses to turn his back to her as he walks past. “You taught me that.”

And Maryse barely manages to wait until he leaves hearing range before she’s covering her face with her hands and screaming in anger and rage and pain. When she’s hoarse and exhausted she gets herself up, slips her shoes back on and turns her face as cold as adamas and goes to find her husband.  When she sees Robert and she knows he’s heard that Alec’s reappeared and she notices that just like her, his first reaction is anger, not relief. 

And maybe, it would make her a better wife, to warn him of what he’ll find when he ignores her suggestions to wait until Alec approaches him. But their relationship has never been about spousal support beyond that of respect and politics. So she follows, at a distance and while she’s prepared for a lot when he finally enters Alec’s room and she stays outside, she’s not prepared for Robert’s angry bellow and then a vicious, loud crack.

She runs in, hand on her blade and fearing the worst but it’s both less and more awful than she thought. 

She realizes, as she makes it through the door that she thought it would be Alec, lying on the floor and it sickens her, to realize some part of her had expected and allowed Robert to go after him in violence. 

It’s not though. It’s Robert, eyes dull with pain and his breathing heavy and he’s lying in a broken heap. 

His spine has been shattered, in a multitude of places, Maryse has seen similar injuries during her time in the Circle, but even then she’s never seen any so brutal. 

Alec, her baby is watching her though, eyes just as cold as earlier but something more dangerous in them and she realizes he thinks she’s about to attack him too. She lets go of her hilt and unstraps it’s sheath, letting it fall to the floor and she drops her stele too. Then she takes off her shoes like she did when he reappeared and she realized everything had gone wrong, so she’s closer to him.

“Are you okay, baby?” She asks, soft as she can and then she wails internally when Alec looks at her with even more suspicion. “It’s okay, Alec. You did good okay, you protected yourself and the—” Maryse swallows, her mouth suddenly dry, “the shadows protected you too. Just like a Trueblood, my blood.” Because she needs to connect with him quickly, before she loses him forever.

“If you hit me again.” Alec says and Maryse wants to cry at the fact that it’s again, that she didn’t even realize it had ever happened. “You won’t have a hand to hit me with anymore.” And he shrugs, “they say so.”

Around him the shadows writhe around in possessive, covetous agreement and Maryse remembers the stories of her family. The ones that were spoken of less and less as their powers diminished. 

“I won’t, Alec. I won’t and if I do, then that’s your right. Their right to protect you. Even if it’s from me.” Especially if it’s from her because those shadows recognize blood and they’re furious with her. Maryse can feel it in the slight echo of resonance that if she doesn’t prove herself. They will kill her and raise Alec themselves, like they’ve done for so many Truebloods orphaned by war. 

“You didn’t react like him. When I came back, I thought you would.”

And Maryse wants her little boy back. The one who promised to protect his baby sister and to be a good hunter and who followed Maryse around like a little shadow.

He was always meant to be a Trueblood, she realizes mournfully and she reaches out a hand, letting it be coated by shadows that could rip it off as easily as she breathes. Hesitantly, more for Alec’s sake than her own fear, she presses her fingers to his tiny face and wonders how she ever could have hit him.

“I’m here, okay Alec. I’m here and I’m sorry.” Because she is and it’s not enough, not with the way he still is wary but that’s okay. He doesn’t have to forgive her, ever. He just has to let her stay, let her try. “Come with me, baby?” She begs, “we can light the fire in my room. Give the shadows plenty of room to dance in, you can tell me how they feel and I’ll tell you stories, okay? Of where they’re from—” her lip wobbles as he nods, a little tiny movement she feels against her palm more than sees. 

“Okay, okay. Just, let's go okay? I’ll have someone else deal with your—” and she pauses when Alec bristles, “with Robert. Okay?” 

He relaxes a bit then and when Maryse steps past her shoes and sword and stele and into the hallway and holds out her hand, he follows, the shadows pulling up her stele to drop into his tiny grip.

“We’ll need it. To call for cleanup.” He says, calculated and callous and sounding so much like her and Maryse realizes how blind she’s been. Because becoming like her is never what she wanted for her children, especially not her firstborn who loved so eagerly and trusted so wholly. 

— and she broke that, her and Robert and it may never be fixed and they’ll have to live with that, she’ll have to live with that — 

Alec keeps a hold of it, even as his tiny, too-thin fingers take her hand and Maryse doesn’t care how much pain Robert is in. He can suffer until Maryse first gets Alec secured and fed and if someone hasn’t found him by then, then she’ll call him aid.

He won’t die from a broken spine.

Valentine’s nephilim victims never did, not until he wanted them to.

They walk slowly, and Maryse gives the first shadowhunter she sees a warning look and they nod and it’s the last of her hunters that they see.

Alec seems to relax the further they get from Robert and Izzy is sleeping in Robert’s room and Maryse doesn’t know how Alec will react to going in there, so she leaves Izzy safe where she is.

The fire is easy to light even without a stele, because Alec won’t give it up yet and Maryse doesn’t want him to risk using it so young and with his Trueblood newly awakened. 

The shadows dance and writhe with contentment and Alec relaxes the longer they play.

“I’m not the Lightwood heir anymore, am I?” Alec asks and he sounds less cold and more confused and Maryse watches with her heart in her mouth as he finally picks up a glass and she could weep when he finally, finally takes a sip of water.

He seems surprised by how thirsty he is and Maryse wishes she needed to tell him to drink slowly but it seems he already knows, drinking half the glass with careful sips and then setting it down. Even though it’s clear he wants to pick it back up and finish it off. 

“No, you’re the Trueblood heir, my heir.” She tells him because she needs that claim to him before it rips away.

“But you’re not a Trueblood anymore.” 

And it’s just a statement, but it hits harder than a blow and Maryse takes a deep, centering breath.

“Well, I will be.” Maryse says and she knows it’s true the moment she says it. “You’re father and I are going to break our union. He still has an heir, Izzy and now I have one as well.” And because Alec still looks confused she reaches out and very carefully, brushes his hair out of his eyes. “We didn’t marry for love,” and with a sinking suspiciounn when Alec doesn’t even blink she adds, “but you know that.” 

And he nods and says, “you married and had me because you were told to.”

He says it so matter-of-fact, like he isn’t breaking Maryse’s heart the way she must have broken her son’s. And then a terribly, heart-wrenching thought slithers into her mind.

 “Alec, do you think?” And Maryse’s heart hurts to even voice it aloud, “do you think you were born for duty? And Izzy for love?”

Alec shrugs and in the comfort of his shadows, he gives in and swings his little feet on the too-tall chair.

It’s adorable and Maryse vaguely remembers scolding him the last time she’d seen it.

“You had me for politics. Izzy could’ve been a spare, but you told me I had to protect her. That she was special and precious and needed to be kept safe above all else, including me. So I figured she must have been made for love.”

Maryse is crying, she realizes, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as she wonders how she and Robert broke apart their family so very completely, in that Alec’s original pure devotion to his sister has turned into a self-sacrificial mantra based on her and Robert’s failures. 

Because Izzy was hope and love. She was an attempt to renew a broken relationship and an excuse to leave the Circle and she was so innocent, when Alec was already becoming jaded from the world around him. She wants to deny it but she can’t and she rattles out a shaking breath, because she’s going to fix this.

Somehow, soon, she’s going to fix this. Even if she has to break apart herself, and Robert and her own world.

“I’m going to take care of this, all of it. I’ll fix it okay. What do you want, baby? What do you want me to do?” And Maryse is being cruel, asking Alec to help her help him but she doesn’t know what her son wants, what his dreams are, or if he has any.

“Can we stay here?” He asks finally, “the angelic core is really nice and the shadows like it. I think it likes me too.” And oh, if Maryse doesn’t shudder to hear that, if she doesn’t swear the clave will never know how precious her child is, “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want him here either.”

“Then I’ll make it happen. If, if Robert goes, Izzy might go with him.” Maryse 

“So I’ll be here by myself?” He asks, and he seems a little disappointed but not surprised and MAryse shakes her head fiercely. 

“No, alec. It will be you and me here, and we’ll visit Izzy.”

“You won’t go with Izzy?” He asks, like he’s surprised staying with him is even an option. “No baby, she’s Robert’s heir now and while I love her.” Alec doesn’t seem surprised by that, but his eyes light up in surprise and awe when she says, “but I love you too, baby. And you’re my heir now, that means you’re my priority, and she’s his.”

Because Maryse is the only parent who can protect and love Alec left, Alec has effectively cut himself off from the Lightwood line and disowned Robert as his parent. 

“I’m your priority?” He asks, like he’s never heard anything so wondrous in his life and Maryse leans over and doesn’t care if her bones are broken or her flesh is torn as she carefully, like she’s embracing something as delicate as a butterfly's wing, wraps her arms around her son.

“Yes, Alec. You’re my priority, my Trueblood baby, even the clave won’t argue with your shadows, Alec. I love you and I’m going to keep you safe now.”

Because she hadn’t before. 

#writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #shadowhunters #shadowhunters au #lumine writes #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets #alec lightwood #maryse lightwood

[sitp-recs]

HP Rec Fest, Day 19

@hprecfest couldn’t come up with a better prompt on my birthday if they wanted 😂 my moment to be the horny on main has finally come (pun intended) and I had so much fun planning this rec post - it’s been a long time coming too, as naturally this was the very first prompt I checked when the fest started! You can probably guess just by looking at this rec list that I’m a big smut fan and champion. I love reading it, talking about it and reccing it. The fics I reread the most are PWPs and I’m even more obsessed when they offer hot dirty talk (am actually picky about it!) and exceptional character development. In fact, some of the most insightful, sensitive and sophisticated character studies I’ve seen come from deeply underrated smutty fics and I’ll die on this hill!

Today I’m breaking my own rule of only reccing two fics and avoiding stories I’ve recced before because a) this is too good an opportunity to scream about my faves again b) it’s my birthday and I can do whatever I want 😌 the Drarry rec was actually bit more challenging as my usual smutty favorites involve rare pairs. I’ve been working hard to highlight lesser known fics but this time I’m staying true to the request - which of course it’s completely subjective - and chose my favourite even if it’s a widely known and popular fic. I feel so privileged to be reading and reccing these masterpieces as a birthday celebration! You’ll find some of my favourite quotes below, as a treat 🔥

Day 19) fic with the hottest smut

Drarry:

Tales from the Special Branch by Femme (E, WIP)

“You slag," he says, but there's no sharpness to the words. They're warm and soft, and he stills, looking up at Potter, his heart stuttering. "Whore," Potter whispers. It comes out like an endearment, gentle against Draco's jaw.

Draco's eyes flutter shut. His whole body feels heated, flushed, every nerve ending aware of Potter pressed against him. The phial of lube is still clenched tight in his fingers; he lets it slide free, dropping to the coverlet beside them. "I want you," he says. "It's madness, I know. We've lost our bloody minds." He opens his eyes, and Potter's watching him, hair mussed, cheeks pink.

"I can't keep away," Potter says. He strokes a knuckle along Draco's face. "I don't want to keep away."

I considered going for a hidden gem but it was no use, I just had to celebrate this epic classic and stay true to my heart! when it comes to ust and smut imo this is hands down the hottest thing I’ve ever read. there are so many iconic and breathtaking sex scenes it’s impossible to pick just one; I’ve reread most of them more times than I care to admit and they all have carved their way inside my brain. I love how desperately wanton Harry and Draco are for each other in this fic! I keep replaying every dirty word, every slutty kiss, every chaotic and intense af sexual encounter they have over the course of this superb and deliciously long case fic/secret relationship series. at this point everyone and their dog has heard of, and read, this series but if you haven’t yet you’re in for a treat! block your schedule this holiday season and go grab some popcorn for this brilliant masterclass in writing, flangst and smut - so much top notch smut to feast on you’ll want to live in this universe forever. you’re welcome!

Rare pair:

Euphoria by birdsofshore (Albus/Scorpius + Albus/Draco, E, 37k)

"Please." I can see Al's legs quivering. They must be getting tired, hooked over Father's shoulders like that for so long. "Please, Draco. Fuck me. Fuck me some more."

Bloody hell. His words go straight to my prick. Father's arse cheeks clench, and he thrusts forward a little deeper into Al, as if he can't help himself. Al moans, and I don't know what's better, hearing it, or seeing my father's reaction to it.

"Very well." Father pulls back to a kneeling position, his hands gripping Al's thighs. I can see Al's hole stretched around the head of my father's cock. "Watch. You might learn something."

I double dare you to find anything hotter than this fic and believe me, I’ve read TONS of smut across many ships and fandoms. Am I biased due to my particular fondness for age gap and sharing/cuckolding kink? Maybe so 🌝 but I promise you this is unlike any other smut you’ve read before - it’s not only smoking hot with the kind of self-indulgent, relentless athletic sex that leaves you sweating (and horny), it’s also pov multiple written in the first person and how brilliant is that??? birds sells herself short in the AN saying this is just 30k of pure unadulterated porn but I’d argue this is actually a masterpiece, an extremely clever, nuanced and perfectly executed character study, mainly of Scorpius. I am impressed beyond words by what birds was able to deliver in 30k of yes, unapologetic kinky smut. DILF Draco, wanton Albus and sweet conflicted Scorp are a sight to behold and will live rent free in your mind after you read this 🪦

Bonus:

Utter Cockslut (A Worthy Cause) by Lokifan (Drarry, Draco/others, E, 7.5k)

Harry grinned darkly. “All right, Draco, get ready for the last few. Make sure you’re good for them; I’m a man who keeps my promises.”

Draco went up on his toes, craning round to see the next wizard. He strained to make out faces in the murky light; after being fucked by Weasley, he knew it could be almost anyone waiting for their chance to have him.

He felt anxiety shiver through him deliciously. Harry went and spoke to the wizards there, his voice low and businesslike. Giving them instructions on how to use him, maybe? Draco hurt from desire.

gangbang galore!!!! this fic has been one of my favourite PWPs to revisit for some years now. I’ll never get over Lokifan’s smut tbh, every fic was obviously written to check my personal boxes and the pacing, characterization and dialogue are so masterfully done I’m always gutted when it’s over. they’ve written smut for some of my favorite ships and they’re all equally delicious but nothing beats (hehe) this one: downright sinful and decadent as the summary suggests but also surprisingly very sweet! established drarry doing the nasty together is my comfort food and here you can feel how much trust and love they have for each other. Harry & Draco are 100% connected throughout the whole fic and the bits of playful teasing, desperate affection and tender aftercare in-between fucks made me swoon! this is a must read for anyone who loves to see Draco getting some diq and loving it, but also to my fellow Dron fans out there! their smutty times are deliciously hot and so funny too, with a lovable horny Ron being egged on by the devils. HBD me! 😂🎉

#hprecfest2023 #day 19 #fic with the hottest smut #feeling very devious today 😈

[atalossofwords]

YOU TASTE THE SILVER - IvanTill WIP (PART 1)

Hi y'all. The brainrot took me with no warning, and I've written 5k for these two just the last two days. I've no idea how much I'll write, but I'm going to squeeze the serotonin for as long as I can lmao

Anyhow, this is a streamer/actor AU that somehow evolved into a sugar daddy AU. Till is a streamer, and Ivan is a famous actor who found him when he was a small streamer and fell in love; he's been sending donations for a good while now, but they've never communicated outside of it.

Until Till opens his PO box and Ivan's need to spoil Till is too much, at least. Then all bets are off, and Till finally starts thinking more about the stranger who keeps sending him gifts. I have a basic outline for it all, but I'm going with vibes first, since I mostly just want to write them and torture Ivan.

I'm going to be posts little snippets of what I've writer so far over the next few days, so please don't be afraid to come to my inbox to ask about them!

This was inspired by this fic! Check it out!

Till wasn't the most famous streamer there was. Not anything near that, actually, though he thinks he does well enough.

He has an established fanbase, almost 500k of them, he's sold some merchandise and collabed with some pretty nice people. He likes streaming, varying between his songwriting and recording processes and any new video game that catches his fancy.

When he started, he didn't think he'd do this for a living. He probably wouldn't be able to afford it, being a struggling musician as he was, for once.

He couldn't blame his comfortable living situation solely on one person, no, since that would be incredibly inconsiderate of the rest of his fans, but this one Navi person definitely funded Till's move from his old apartment mostly by themselves.

Case in point.

NAVI (TILL'S ATM) DONATED $100: Hyung, how's the new house?

Till reads the donation out loud, ignoring his chat going a little crazy over Navi's donation. By now, Till is used to Navi only ever sending messages through donations. He'd be so flustered, in the beginning, and worried enough he almost disabled them. Luckily Hyuna talked him out of it.

"It's going well. As everyone can see, my studio isn't done yet," he says, gesturing behind himself into the empty expanse of freshly painted wall. At least he'd painted it black already. "but the rest is going okay. I'm really sorry for the week I had to take off, everyone."

He quickly scams the chat, his heart feeling warm as all the people watching rush to reassure him that it's not a problem, he should take care of himself, and how glad they are he managed to move from his shitty rented apartment.

"Actually, I have some news for you all." He scratches his neck, a nervous habit, and looks to the side. Hyuna convinced him to do this, so he knows it's something streamers do, but he can't help being anxious about it. "Since I moved, and this place needs some decorations, I was thinking of opening a PO box and doing an... what's it called? Unboxing?"

The chat is going crazy, he can barely keep up, oh god. He feels his cheeks heat.

"An unboxing live and then decorate my stream setup with some stuff I get. Would you guys like that?"

His chat is a mess of "yeses" and incoherent screams, and Till can't help but smile a little. He's got to say, he's looking forward to this.

The following weeks are a bit of a mess. He streams less than normal, still setting up his new apartment; he goes with Hyuna to buy electronics she swears will make his streaming better.

Dewey, his brother, goes with him to buy a new shelving unit and help him set up all his new furniture. Isaac is strangely fixated on saying Till needs rugs and other things, otherwise his apartment is "just a place, not a home, bro", apparently.

He checks in with his PO box frequently, each day more excited by all the packages he got. After two weeks he announces on twitter he'll be closing the PO box in a week since he wants to be able to open all the gifts on stream and he's already got a good amount of them.

The day after his announcement, he goes to pick up any new packages to store in his living room since he doesn't want to burden the office workers and finds a package that makes his stomach twist in itself.

It's a large box, clearly packed by hand instead of the usual post-service stamps. And it has a large sticker reading "FROM: NAVI" on it.

Till doubts anyone would use the name to get his attention, since he does treat all his viewers equally, so this really is from Navi. He wonders what is in it, since Navi clearly has money to spare and intends to spend it on Till.

"It's probably a maid dress." Hyua says, helping him lug it all to his apartment.

"It's not!" He splutters, mortified. Hyuna raises an incredulous eyebrow. "It's probably snacks, or something like that. Navi's said they travel a lot." That, somehow, just makes the eyebrow twitch higher.

"You remember what your viewers say?" She asks, hip-checking his door open. He follows, frowning a little. He always remembers what his viewers say.

Navi, obviously, since they only talk in donations, but also a few other regulars. Kirby has an older sister they're sharing the computer with; Siren started learning the guitar because of Till, and is doing well for himself; Jaewoon – with the username Till's Merch Overlord – draws and is currently suffering through art university, BonBon who has a one-year-old and listens to Till while doing his household chores.

"Yeah? I mean, there's only so many people who regularly chat. And out of those, a good part are my mods." He says, shrugging. He knows Hyuna pays someone to mod for her, but Till didn't think he'd need a mod, since he never expected to get so many views. He kept going without mods for so long that the most active members of the community ended up auto-modding the rest, at which point Till just reached out and asked if they wanted to mod, and now he pays them for it because he felt bad otherwise.

(Of course, Navi isn't a mod. They'd fit Till's criteria, but they never chatted normally, so it was kind of hard to ask.)

"Aaah, you're just too wholesome, heartbreaker." Hyuna says, sighing, the old nickname that still makes Till confused coming out with a teasing lilt. She waves him off before he can say anything, though, plopping the box on the couch and grinning at Dewey. "Hey, this one you'll definitely want to check!"

Till rolls his eyes as his brother 'oohs' and 'aahs' over the package, Isaac peering over with a pocket knife ready to pry it open. When Till mentioned opening a PO box, he insisted on checking the gifts beforehand, just to make sure they were all stream-appropriate and, most importantly, not dangerous for Till.

He was grateful his brother cared, but he was less amused by the teasing and hint-dropping they'd been doing over the content of the packages. He leaves them to it, moving to the kitchen to get some much-needed coffee.

Looks like Isaac bought bungeo-ppang, so Till fills a mug and picks one, nibbling at it and looking into his fridge. He should go buy more food, but there's a seven-eleven right across his street, so he almost never bothers stocking up. He does need to get more tea, though, since he dislikes drinking water, and for reasons unknown, his chat enjoys it when he drinks on-stream.

He finishes updating his list and walks back to the living room, where Dewey has already closed the package back up, but is holding a small parcel in his hand, frowning. Hyuna looks over as he approaches, a complicated expression on her face.

"The rest of the package is fine to open on-stream, but I think this one might be best off-stream." She says, and the lack of any teasing or barb makes him worried. She must've read that in his expression, because she grins. "Do you happen to know why this Navi person likes you so much? I wouldn't mind getting some of these myself."

Till can't help but scowl, snatching the parcel from Dewey's hands. He doesn't know Navi, not really, but they're still one of his first viewers, and they do kind of give Till a lot of money.

"Keep your hands away from my viewers, hag." He has to move fast to escape her grab, which soon develops into a little keep-away with the parcel, soon ending up with Dewey on the ground howling with laughter as Isaac tries to haul Hyuna off him, curled on himself on the ground to keep the parcel to himself.

"Ugh, you brat! Just open it!!" She exclaims, sitting down on Dewey's lap, making the older man yelp. Till huffs, but sits up to analyse the gift.

It seems to be an envelope, like many of the letters he got, but there was something inside of it, making it weirdly bulky. Till folds it open, tipping the envelope so whatever it is can fall on his open hand, and stares.

There is a pair of... earrings, on his hand.

Diamond earrings, to be precise.

That the fuck.

Till stares at it, then peers inside the envelope. Nothing weird falls out, like a damned credit card or pure gold, but a little recipe with the return address of a high-class jewellery store makes itself known. The rest of the envelope contains a certification for the damned diamonds.

Till curls up back again, head in his hands, groaning. His face is so hot you could cook an egg in it.

Navi got him diamond piercings because Till complained once, months ago, that he wanted to switch out his piercings but didn't have the money for it.

"C'mon Till! You didn't tell me you had a sugar daddy!" Hyuna jeers, and from the hiss and yelp, Dewey just dropped her. The sound of them bickering – Hyuna insisting this Navi person has to be after Till's virtue, and Dewey being insulted by the thought of someone going after his little brother like that, plus Isaac googling the store to throw fuel on the fire – is enough to distract Till form his own freakout.

He sits back up, his face still red, to study the piercings better. There are six items in total. One is a simple diamond stud, a tiny and delicate stone, probably for his second hole. A pair of bigger stones, with four elongated asymmetrical spikes, making it look like a shining star, probably for his first hole. One's a series of round stones inlaid together in a belt, forming a hoop, for his helix piercing. The final ones are two silver loops, delicate and silver, for his double auricle piercing.

He thinks if he puts any of those on, he's going to spontaneously combust.

(Later that night, after Hyuna and Isaac went home and Dewey crashed on his couch, Till locks his bedroom door and tries them on. The pair of star-shaped earrings go on both ears, the tiny stud on his left, alongside the helix, which he takes a while to get on since it is so finicky, he pierced it himself with a safety pin in high school. The hoops go on his right, looking a little lonely with just the earring, remembering Till that he really wishes he had money to get a constellation on that ear.

He's wearing a simple white shirt, ready for bed, that slips off his shoulder to show off the simple moon covered by clouds on his clavicle, clashing with the TILL tattoo he has over his neck. He turns this way and that, watching the diamonds shine, and feels almost bad for using them.

Why did Navi send this to him? What did Till do, to deserve something as delicate as this? He's not the kindest of people, he's kind of an asshole actually, all shouting and side eyes. He's not the kind of guy that can properly appreciate such nice jewellery, not the kind of person that should be appreciated like this.

Still. The diamond shines against his skin, the silver compliments his white hair. He takes most of them off, only keeping the simple snake bites. He doesn't want to somehow dirty up the diamonds.)

part two

#writing #wip #ivantill #alien stage

[shootingstarpilot]

☔️☔️

For the WIP ask game 😊

ask game

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

god bless you, anon <3

so. the first one i have in mind is a time-travel au- an as of yet undetermined amount of time after order 66 goes through, the clones wake up back on kamino- just in time to see obi-wan turning away from the overlooking window.

obviously, mass chaos ensues. cody manages to wrangle most of ghost together, and they immediately go hunting for their jedi. all the way there, they're trying to figure what to say- he won't know them, he has no reason to trust him, and they'd shot him down- they can't not go looking for him, but what are they supposed to say-?

except then it all becomes a moot point, because they round the corner and hear the distinctive hiss-snap of a lightsaber, and obi-wan's voice, cold as ice-

"you are going to tell me everything you know about the chips, prime minister, and you are going to tell me now."

yeah. he got sent back too.

cody and co burst in, obi-wan whips around to face them, and for a moment he looks absolutely shattered before he wipes his expression clean and says, "co- commander. i can explain-"

and cody's voice cracks when he says, "obi-wan-"

and that's when obi-wan realizes.

anyway. of course there are hugs. and maybe smooches.

but i have a secret motivation for this. yes, i am fucking around with my own ocs' timelines here. but i don't care, because i have an Image in my head and it will not go away:

when everything goes down, helix takes half a second to reorient himself and immediately establishes his priorities. he can hear cody shouting, makes a note of it, but there's something higher on his list-

well. two somethings.

he goes for stitch first.

he finds him in the barracks. they're mostly empty, by now, but helix knows stitch and knows his instinct to retreat into small spaces and knows the way his head fills up with so much noise sometimes that it makes it impossible for him to do anything else, and if anything would be Noisy it would be this-

he screams stitch's name when he hits the cadet barracks- screams again, no response, but something is pushing him onwards, down the endless rows of bunks, and then he sees a tiny lump huddled under a blanket-

and he knows.

the relief nearly throttles him. he hears a tiny little sniffle and sits down on the edge of the bed, puts a hand on what he guesses to be a shoulder, and the lump stops breathing-

the blanket shifts. a head pops up.

my point. my point is. give me helix hugging actual tiny toddler stitch or give me death.

so. they find each other. they're missing their third.

needle's not in the barracks. he's not in the mess. he's not in any of the winding, endless hallways. he's not, when they meet up, with cody and company.

then stitch goes very still.

"what's the date?"

helix tells him. stitch goes white.

"we have to run," he says. "we have to run now."

stitch is right.

helix hits the hallway leading to the decomm rooms just in time to see the doors slide open and a bloody-nosed needle comes staggering out with a blaster held loosely in one hand. helix sees behind him, through the door, on the floor- the unmoving bodies of two longnecks.

needle's cloudy gaze focuses on them.

"it was gonna be me," he croaks. "couldn't let them wipe me."

stitch shrieks needle's name from where he's propped on helix's hip, and helix lunges forward just in time to catch him when his knees buckle.

there's a whole lot of information slotting into place all at once, and helix carefully sets aside the horror of it and holds onto needle (if he's even still? yet? their needle-) and tries to figure out-

then he feels the huff of a ragged laugh against his shoulder, and knows.

"actual baby," needle murmurs. the hug is returned at last- the two of them, clinging to each other, with stitch sandwiched between them- "can't tell me you're not a baby anymore. tiny baby."

stitch hiccups. "needle?"

"my baby," needle says, and helix can hear the smile in his voice.

stitch bursts into tears.

they do, eventually, go find the others. there are more hugs, unneeded apologies, even more hugs-

and, soon enough, plans.

palpatine won't know what hit him.

i don't think i'm organized enough to actually write this- to stick with the canon timeline, i mean- but the playground is fun as FUCK.

(anakin gets arrested as soon as he returns from tatooine, too. fuck him.)

#ask game #tagging as #shoulder the sky #because it does involve my sts medics #i will eventually reblog this with a second one #i just wanted to get this out into the world first <3 #thanks anon!!