#sir do you have some kind of childhood trauma or something like that because um have you ever heard about trying to break the abuse circle.

[exoexid]

ykw? even tho dangerous romance is not exactly going as i expected it'd go, i find myself enjoying this series immensely!! it brings me so much happiness and anticipation, specially after today's episode because we're slowly getting closer to The Drama. but what we saw today made me think real hard about why i like the show so much and i think it's because they're really taking their time to show us how good of a team sailom and kanghan are (or can be) :)

#like it's a romance because well. they like e/o. but i love the way they show us the time they spend together #and i like how it's done well :-) idk how to explain myself!!!! #but basically atp they remind me of some of the relationships that some of my friends have with their partners #in which they've become some sort of besties and are building it all on top of that and aaaa to me that's sailom and kanghan :') #and i like it because it's something that doesn't get portrayed this clearly that often basically #oh and also. we need the nawa and guy subplot NOW!!! because they were teammates omg they were teammates #and let's not forget the subplot in which they explain wtf is up with kang's dad.... #sir do you have some kind of childhood trauma or something like that because um have you ever heard about trying to break the abuse circle. #i always end up rambling istg like girl get it together!!!!!! #dara.t #dangerous romance

[ashintheairlikesnow]

am really interested in seeing nat with an early chris. the moment where she says that his hands are his and he deserves the mind that moves his hands, i would love to see more of a gentle caring nat towards the scared chris like that 🥺

CW: Conditioned silence/kneeling, trauma recovery, recovering whumpee, references to pet whump

“Hey, there.” 

Nat has twenty years of this, more or less, under her belt. Twenty years of time since she walked away from creating this mess and dedicated herself to trying to mitigate the damage, one rescue at a time. It feels like saving a single honeybee while whole colonies are fed into a woodchipper, some days, but she tells herself the same platitudes she tells all of them, too:

Even one life saved is worth the risk, and worth the effort.

She doesn’t use terms like value or cost, with the rescues. They know they exist to be exchanged for money, it’s teaching them that they exist outside of what they can produce or perform for an owner that’s the hard part. 

Twenty years of keeping her voice low, just like this, and still every single rescue is a whole person, and it always feels a little bit new.

“Do you need some help?”

The newest rescue in their house, the teenage Romantic that only rarely moves out from behind the bed and then retreats right back into his room as soon as he’s spooked, pauses where he stands in the doorway. It’s not right to say he pauses - he freezes, there, like a deer caught in headlights midway through flashing the white tail that signifies it wants to run.

His eyes are wide, and so very green. A smattering of pale freckles across his pale skin, sickly from being kept indoors so often, pulls at Nat’s heartstrings in a very particular way. Strawberry blond hair that flirts with copper is clipped just so, to hang into his eyes just a little bit. 

It kills Nat, but she can see why it was cut that way. It makes his expressions seem even more plaintive. 

“Um.” The boy’s voice is low, soft and uncertain, and his hands close tightly around the sides of the doorframe he leans against, as though using it to hold himself up. “I’m. Um. I’m, I’m... I, I, I was, I did-” He flinches, winces back away from her. “Um. N-Never, I’m, I’m, I’m sorry, never-... never mind-”

Shifting back on his feet, ready to flee, torn between the carefully conditioned obedience that tries to hold him until he’s dismissed and the fear that pushes him to run. She’s seen it a hundred times, by now. 

Nat doesn’t get up or try to go after him - she’d be a threat, if she did that. Instead, she only folds her hands in her lap, in plain view, and gives him a slight, soothing smile. 

“You’re okay,” She says, gently. “You’re okay. Jake said you ate some chicken on Thursday, did you feel better after that?”

The boy watches her, and slowly nods. His shoulders hunch up a little towards his chin. 

“Good. That’s good, kiddo.”

There might be a flicker - the slightest hint - of a smile at the nickname. All the boy’s expressions happen in the faintest shades of themselves. He’s not the first one to have learned to regulate even the twitch of an eyebrow, the shift of a muscle near the corner of his mouth.

“So. That’s a plate of fried chicken, and then... have you eaten anything since?”

Another hesitation. Then a slight shake of the head.

“Did you come here to tell me you might be hungry?”

No response this time, except for his knuckles going white where he clings to the dark wooden doorframe, one of the beautiful parts of living in such an old house. His eyes are locked on her face, trying to read danger there, a threat, anger that he dared ask for anything that hadn’t been offered. She can read it all. She’d read this book before, of course, but every single time the story unfolds a little differently. 

“Well. I’m hungry, and I was about to head over into the kitchen and make a couple of turkey and swiss sandwiches with extra mustard and some barbecue potato chips. Because I, for one, am starving.

The boy bounces, just once, on the balls of his feet and then goes carefully back to still again. He’s like some kind of carved statue, everywhere he manages to go - hidden behind the bed or standing in the doorway to the home office, he looks like he’s been carved from stone by some outstanding sculptor, brought only halfway to life.

“I... like... turkey sandwiches,” He offers, his voice low and tentative. “Ma’am.”

“Oh, please.” Nat waves one hand. “Where I come from, you only ma’am old people, and don’t you listen to Jake saying that they ma’am and sir everybody in the south, we live by Midwest rules around here.”

The boy, who no longer understands those kinds of regional differences, continues simply to stare at her. 

She smiles and moves slowly to her feet - even as slow as she can possibly go, he still flinches back at first, his hands dropping to twist into the hem of the oversized shirt he’s wearing with a pair of mesh basketball shorts he’d found in the back of the bedroom closet, abandoned by some prior rescue. 

He backs up for her to move past him towards the kitchen, then follows her on silent bare feet, a teenage ghost wandering the halls of a house full of them all, deposited here as shades and told to find their way back to life.

Words aren’t worth much, in the grand scheme of things. What helps a rescue isn’t words - most of them have had reassurance and comfort twisted and spun and turned into the very phrases used to most wound them. 

What helps a rescue is a simple action, repeated without expectation of repayment. Nat makes a sandwich, and then another. She puts more potato chips on his plate than hers. And she doesn’t try to make him sit at the table. They’ve already learned he wasn’t allowed to do that. Instead, she carries both plates into the living room and sets his down on the coffee table.

He sinks to his knees with a perfect, practiced motion Nat has seen nearly every day since she walked away from WRU and started her first safehouse. They teach them all to kneel, no matter their designation. 

They all know how to kneel more than they are allowed to remember how to breathe.

He watches her for permission, and she knows it will take time before she can stop giving it. 

“Go ahead, kiddo.”

His hands raise to pick up the sandwich, gentle as can be. “Thank... thank, thank-...” He winces, pressing his fingers into the sandwich even harder, leaving divots in the soft white bread, little impressions like a man pushing his hand into clay. “Thank you, m-... Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo. You can sit with me on the couch, if you’d like.”

His eyes flicker to the couch and then back to her, trying to decide what she wants him to do. “I like the floor,” He says, finally. His voice is strangely flat, each word drops like a carefully chosen stone when he speaks like this. “Pets belong-”

“Sssshhh, you don’t have to say that stuff here. Do whatever makes you comfortable.” Nat sits herself down, takes a bite, and then carefully peels up the sandwich to slide a few potato chips between the top layer of swiss and the bread. She hums, and catches the boy watching her, looking at his own chips, then back up at her. She grins. “Childhood habit.”

He blinks, and then echoes her motion, his fingers long and thin. “Child... childhood?”

They’re always fascinated by stories about childhoods and families, all the things they must have had in some form, and lost, and can’t remember.

“I grew up a farm kid, did I ever tell you that? No, of course not, you’ve been here four days. Anyway, my dad was a farmer...”

He starts to eat the sandwich as she speaks, in careful bites that are gradually distracted by her words into larger ones. By the time she runs out of stories, he’s eaten every bite on his plate, and shifted from his knee to sitting cross-legged on the floor.

His eyes are still locked on her, but she can see that there is something new his expression.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump, @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth

#trauma recovery #caretaker #bbu #box boy #box boy universe #trauma recovery whump #whump #chris the strawberry blond romantic #caretaker and whumpee #recovering whumpee #conditioning #referenced pet whump #referenced dehumanization

[cryoculus]

The First

This actually belongs to a collection of oneshots that feature a celebrity!reader. I’m probably only gonna post this one on here, while the rest of the oneshots will solely be posted on AO3. 

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji/Reader Setting: Hokkaido, Celebrity AU Words: 2,197 Cross-posted from AO3

The evening is quiet.

A staggering exhale comes out of your lips, and your breath materializes in front of you. Your mittens do nothing to keep the chill brought about by the wintery air at bay, so you try rubbing your hands together, but that does little to keep you warm. Sighing, you tilt your head upward, gazing at the overcast sky. Seems like there's gonna be one hell of a snowfall tonight.

All of a sudden, a rather strong breeze whips past you, making your uniform skirt sway along with it. You immediately pat the pleats down with your hands, face reddening at the idea of someone seeing your skirt being blown by the wind. But without you hunching your shoulders, the loose scarf around your neck gets carried away with the breeze.

"Uwah!" you yelp, before standing up to reach out for it, stumbling a little in the process.

Your fingers almost close in on your favorite scarf, but that's until someone else manages to catch it instead. Carefully, you glance up to your savior. He looks immaculate, wearing the school's uniform. His blazer is ironed nicely, shirt tucked in, and necktie pristine. You peer at his face, and gunmetal blue eyes gaze at you with gentle curiosity. His lips twitch into a polite smile.

"I believe this is yours?" His voice is as smooth as a flowing river, as he hands you the scarf.

Redness paints your cheeks in no time, as you tuck in a loose tuft of hair behind your ear. Could this be the school's resident heartthrob?

"Cut! Take five guys!"

Your head drops. Damn it.

Akaashi chuckles at your repeated mistake. "(Name)-san, I'm supposed to tuck your hair in your ears."

"Y-Yeah," you huff. "I promise I won't screw it up next time."

With a curt bow, Akaashi returns back to his designated seat in the shooting venue. His personal assistant hands him a water bottle, which he declines. You wrap the prop scarf around your head, stomp a little on the cobblestones, and muffle a frustrated shout with the said scarf. When you finish your little outburst, you turn to the guys in charge of generating the wind for the set.

"It's alright, miss," one of the guys—Anahori is written on his nametag—assures. "Angling the fans isn't too difficult to make that single tuft of hair come loose."

"Still," you sigh, feeling a little dejected. "I've had six takes with this one scene. It was supposed to be a sunset scene, but I took so long, Director Yamiji had to rewrite the script."

He shrugs. "Well, stuff like that's inevitable, y'know? Is it your first time on a live set, miss?"

You look away, feeling embarrassed. "You could tell, huh?"

Currently, you're doing a movie with yours and Akaashi's management companies set in a high school in Hokkaido, where it's perpetually cold. The gist of the story basically goes like this: your character, Yuna, is Akaashi's character, Kaito's, childhood friend. He moved away when he was about to begin middle school, and received the news that Yuna's family got caught in a hostage-genocide in one of the tourist spots in the province. But, to his surprise, someone with the same name as his childhood friend enrols to his high school on their third year. She's the same person, but she doesn't remember him because of some severe head trauma she experienced from the attack.

It's a pretty standard setting for Japanese movies, but you can't bring yourself to calm down easily.

Anahori snickers. "Miss, if you think I noticed because you kept making the same mistake, that's not it! Okay, maybe it's partially it, but most veterans don't sulk over their mistakes because it's normal."

"Alright." You exhale, some semblance of determination begins coursing in your veins. "I can do this."

"Ah, (Name)?"

You yelp, startled at the person calling out your attention. Okay, maybe you lied about the determination thing. Being casted for your first major role under a movie produced by Fukurodani Films has you feeling a little agitated. When you turn around and realize it's only your manager, Takeda, you sigh in relief.

"Takeda-san, I don't think I can do this," you whine. "A-Akaashi-san is always calm and composed, and I can't even remember not to tuck my stupid hair in my ear!"

He laughs. "No one really minds, you know? Everyone understands that it's your first time."

"S-Still! I bet Shimizu-san aced her first shoot."

"Oh, you'd be surprised, (Name)," Takeda smiles at you. "Everyone, I mean everyone, has first time jitters. Even that guy Akaashi-san probably messed up once or twice during his first shoot." He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You can do it, okay?"

You nod, pursing your lips. Yeah, you can do it. Takeda and Ukai worked their assess off to get you this collaborative role, and you can't just bail out because you've screwed up a scene more times than Hinata says, "So cool!" in one day. Nope. You're going to stand your goddamn ground.

"Come at me!" you shout to no one in particular. Some of the cameramen talking by the side eye you bizzarely, and—dear God, you aren't making a good reputation for yourself, aren't you?

"Okay everyone, back to your places!" The director claps his hands to get everyone's attention. "The breeze from the last take was perfect, and we're only gonna be redoing the bit when Kaito—" He gestures at Akaashi. "—hands the scarf back to Yuna—" Then gestures to you.

Once the light directors adjust the illumination in the area, you and Akaashi proceed back to your old positions, which have been marked with some tape for precision. You hand the scarf back to him, and he only nods because you've reshot this scene so many times, saying, "Hello," is already repetitive. You want to bury your face in your hands out of sheer embarrassment, but your time for that is robbed once the woman holding the clapperboard stands in front of the camera.

"Scene three, take seven. Marker!" She clicks the board and the sound rings in your ears.

The clapperboard manager (is that what they're called) retreats to the side, and the wind picks up once again. Your hair dances in the artificial breeze and you don't even have to pretend to be mesmerized about Akaashi's—uh, Kaito's presence in front of you. His face seems like it's been carved from the same material that artists from centuries ago crafted the statues of Greek gods. The wind dishevels his dark hair even more, but there's something endearing about the mess. You gawk at him, lips parting with a dreamy sigh.

"I believe this is yours?" He reaches out to give you back the scarf once more. You reach out for the piece of clothing with one hand, while your other hand is enclosed in a fist. Not gonna tuck my hair. Not gonna tuck my hair. Not gonna tuck my hair.

Following the script given beforehand, you wrap it back around your neck, while mumbling a rather shy, "Thank you."

You avert your gaze from him, imitating that of a high school girl whose flushing with shyness, which you also don't have to fake. Wow, these kind of roles are perfect for you.

Akaashi raises an eyebrow, and lifts his arm to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. "You look familiar. May I know your name?"

Your heart nearly implodes at the contact of his fingers on the skin of your ear. God damn it! He fits the role of high school heartthrob so well, that your heart is literally throbbing at his acting. You're more than aware of how warm your face feels, but you somehow still manage to keep your facial expressions in check. You shoot him a confused look, tilting your head slightly to the side.

"Sakuma," you respond, following it up with a warm smile. "Sakuma Yuna."

Your colleague's expression stiffens, as he drops his arm to the side. "I-I see." He offers up another smile, but it borders on pained. "I guess I'll see you around, Sakuma-san?"

Still feeling flustered, you nod. "Y-Yes."  

You keep your gaze straight, as Akaashi exits out of the frame with graceful strides. You press your lips into a thin line, imitating the supposed distress Yuna is to feel once she sees Kaito for the first time.

"Aaaand cut!" Director Yamiji exclaims, looking quite pleased. "That was beautiful, Keiji, (Name)! That's gonna be all for today. Kaori, how many scenes have we shot in total for today?"

"U-Um, seven scenes, sir!" The director's assistant and an adorable woman, Kaori, articulates her voice louder for everyone to hear.

Some of the crew members and staff clap for the progress made. After a few more instructions from Yamiji regarding the shoots scheduled for the next few days, you change into your normal clothes and surrender your costumes to the props managers. For some reason, Akaashi returns his at the same time you do.

"You were a remarkable colleague, (Name)-san," he compliments with a gentle voice. "I look forward to more shoots with you."

Ah, there it is again—the blood rushing to your cheeks. You scratch the back of your head, laughing nervously. "A-Akaashi-san, if there's anyone that's remarkable, it's you!"

“(Name)-san, you’re too kind—" Akaashi seems to have more to say, but is interrupted mid-sentence when someone tackles him to the ground. You yelp in surprise, as Akaashi tries to pry whoever jumped him off his body.

“B-Bokuto-san?” He groans.

”Oya? You don’t look happy to see me, Akaashi!” Bokuto guffaws at his friend’s discomfort, as he further pressed his weight on Akaashi’s back. “So mean. I came all the way to check my kouhai’s progress, yet instead of being grateful, he seems to want to kill me.”

”Bokuto-san, you’re crushing my ribcage.”

“Oh. Makes sense.” The peculiar man laughs once more before standing up. He holds out a hand to help Akaashi on his feet, but he doesn’t take it, mumbling how unprofessional he’s being.

“Hmm?” Bokuto notices you staring at him, terrified. “You must be Akaashi’s leading lady, huh?” The man studies you from various angles, with a finger of contemplation resting on his chin.

“I approve,” Bokuto shoves a thumbs up in your face.

“Err, thank you?”

“I apologize for my senior’s inappropriate behavior, (Name)-san,” Akaashi sighs,  looking rather irked. “He has been a little overprotective of me ever since I got casted with someone...unbecoming of a good actress in my last film.”

”Tch, no need to break it delicately, Akaashi,” Bokuto huffs. “We all know she was a bitch.”

”Bokuto-san!”

“What? It’s true!”

“Koutarou?”

Bokuto flinches at the mention of his name. Trembling, he turns around to face Yamiji. “H-Hey there, boss! I just dropped by to say hello.”

Yamiji flashes him a scary-looking smile.  “What did I say about gatecrashing sets you’re not part of?”

“H-Hai! I will get my ass back to Tokyo immediately, boss!”

“Good.”

That minimal exchange has Bokuto running out of the set like he wasn’t here in the first place. You shake your head at his silliness. Who knew that Yamiji had that effect on his actors.

“Yes, we’ll be heading back soon,” you overhear Takeda talking on the phone. “We’ve shot seven scenes in a day, isn’t that amazing? (Name) is really picking up really fast... Kageyama wants some apple juice again? Can’t he just buy some at a convinience store? Oh. Someone wants her as a brand sponsor? Alright, fine. I’ll talk to you later.”

”(Name)-san,” Akaashi interrupts your eavesdropping.

“Y-Yeah?” You whip your head back to face him.

“You have a long way ahead of you, and I am very glad to be your first leading man.” He holds out his hand, a kind smile playing on his lips. “I hope you don’t forget me.”

Is he being serious right now? You gawk at him, incredulous. How can anyone just forget that the Akaashi Keiji became their co-star? The chances that he’ll forget about you are way higher than the other way around. Regardless, you shake his hand—oh God, it’s so soft—because he doesn’t seem like he’s going to agree to any arguments you give.

When he and his team are about to depart for Tokyo, he waves goodbye. But you’re not content with just letting him off with a simple wave. You don’t know what otherworldly force makes your legs move, but they do. Akaashi raises an eyebrow as you come closer. When you’re directly in front of him, you puff out your cheeks.

“T-Take care,” you whisper, before pecking him on the cheek.

The sudden gesture causes perpetually composed Akaashi’s face to turn crimson. Bokuto, who still hasn’t left, hollers at his junior’s vulnerable state.

”Akaashi, you’re as red as a tomato!”

You immediately run back to where Takeda is before Akaashi can speak up. But when you look back, he’s touching the spot where you kissed him with parted lips.

Hmph. That’s only a fraction of how he makes me feel on set.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu!! hc #haikyuu!! #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #fukurodani #bokuto koutarou #hqscenario

[independentauthor]

Breathless Reality Tom Holland X  Original Character

Multi Chapter

Full summary: 21 year old Sydney is just trying to make dreams come true by touring the world, creating music, and making unforgettable memories. But some dreams you can’t make come true, they just happen on their own. Tom Holland falling in love with her was the most unexpected dream come true of all.

Warnings for full fic: Fluff, angst, mentions of sex, mentions of past trauma, and smutt  (please let me know if I miss anything!)  

Chapter summary: Sydney visits Tom in London and they can’t help themselves 

Chapter 13

“Just breathe, it’s going to be fine.”

Ali had said this over and over again to me before I had gotten on the plane.

I was trying not to shake in my seat so that I didn’t bother the other people in my row. I had my giant headphones on, volume all the way up, and was scrolling through my phone. Tom had sent me so many pictures of himself and what he was doing over the past few days even though we had Facetimed each day. He said he didn’t want us to miss anything.

As much as I missed him, I was very nervous to see him. Not just because I was going to meet his whole family but because the thought of seeing him and being near him again gave me butterflies. I wondered if they would ever go away.

It was pretty doubtful.

Finally we landed.

I gathered my stuff and got off the plane, trying hard not to trip over my own feet. It seemed like the people around me knew I was anxious to get to Tom and were purposely taking forever, blocking my way. But eventually I made it to baggage, expecting to get the rest of my luggage so that I could go find Tom.

But he was there, waiting for me.

My bags were next to him and he held a sign that said my name on it. I could have seen his grin from space. He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me up, holding me tight.

“Welcome to England love,” he muttered in my ear.

Once he set me down I was able to stare at his face. Every time I saw him it was like the first time. He seemed unreal to me and so beautiful. As usual I got lost in his face, trying to memorize ever inch.

I wasn’t sure how long we stood there staring at each other but eventually he reached up to brush hair off my face and pull me into a kiss. But he didn’t stop there as he began to move his lips slowly against mine. We both forgot everyone else around us as we held each other closer and our lips moved faster.

Someone cleared their throat, breaking us apart.

I looked behind him, as he turned his head, to find Harrison standing a few feet away.

He looked at us with amusement on his face.

I hid most of my face in Tom’s shoulder, looking at Harrison.

“Hi Harrison,” I mumbled.

“Hey Sydney,” he laughed, walking towards us.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

Harrison’s presence was not in our original plan and I couldn’t see a reason why it had changed.

“I’m just here as backup,” he said casually.

“Backup?” I repeated, looking up at Tom with my eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, um,” he started slowly, “We have a slight situation.”

“What situation?” I asked. I didn’t like how uneasy Tom seemed to be.

There was a mob.

Photographers, press, fans, they were everywhere, waiting outside for us.

I stopped dead in my tracks a few feet before the door.

Tom’s hand in mine was the only thing keeping me grounded.

He had insisted on carrying my backpack and dragging my suitcase.

“It’s okay love,” he said softly, looking at me with an understanding face.

He knew that I was not used to this kind of attention on my personal life, and I was certainly not used to this level of attention. Sure I was successful in my career which resulted in a lot of eyes on me, but there was no mistaking that Tom was just a tad more recognizable than I was.

Harrison walked in front of us and Tom pulled me behind him in an effort to shield me.

It was so loud. There were people yelling, flashing lights, and people’s hands everywhere. I didn’t know what to do or where to look so I just starred at Tom’s back and focused on his hand that held mine. He squeezed it tightly.

We made it to the car and drove off.

After saying goodbye to Harrison for the day, as we would see him for Tom’s birthday the next day, Tom led me into his apartment.

It was very nice, and surprisingly clean, though I had a feeling it wasn’t always that way. Tom brought in all my luggage and then gave me a tour of the place. It was very homey with pictures of his friends and family everywhere and there was of course plenty of Spiderman paraphernalia.

Tom dropped my bags off in his room before taking me into his arms.

“So tomorrow the whole day is at my parent’s house with everyone but other than that, it’s just you and me,” he smiled.

He was trying to keep things light but I couldn’t miss the underlying information.

“So that means you’ll actually have me all alone?” I asked playfully as I ran my fingers through his hair.

“Yes,” he nodded, touching my nose with his, “And I will be a perfect gentleman.”

I couldn’t help it as my face fell slightly in surprise.

“Come on,” he said taking my hand, “I want to show you around the area.”

And he pulled me out the door and helped me into the car.

It was very interesting to be alone in a car with Tom.

He drove with the radio on, wearing sunglasses, and holding my hand. He pointed out different places as we drove by and sang along to the music. It was so . . . normal. We were just two people driving around together. The fact that we were well known, had successful all-consuming careers, and a million obligations was all but forgotten.

Eventually we arrived at our destination and Tom helped me out of the car. We walked around what seemed like all of London that afternoon. I could tell he was so happy to be home and was very excited to share it with me. I loved the look in his eyes and how big his smile was. I was possibly beginning to grasp his feelings towards me. I knew how I felt about him but I was still unsure as to why he seemed to like me so much, therefore I wasn’t able to understand how much he liked me.

But the way he talked, his expression, and the fact that he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off me as we walked around his home said a lot to me. Plus he had wanted me to share his birthday with him and his family. That had to mean something didn’t it?

It began to get dark and the air cooled down. When I asked him where we were getting dinner he grinned guiltily at me.

“What?” I asked.

He let go of my hand to drape his arm over my shoulders so that he could pull me into him and place a kiss on top of my head.

“I’m going to cook for you,” he said with a smile.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes, and you’re going to like it. Or at least lie to me and say that you like it,” he ordered.

“Yes sir,” I nodded, pretending to be super serious, which caused him to laugh.

“Come on, let’s go have dinner.”

It wasn’t long before we were back at the apartment and I was sat on the couch watching Tom in the kitchen.

I was very comfortable sitting there and I certainly enjoyed watching Tom cook. It gave me the opportunity to shamelessly stare at him. I was never going to get over how beautiful he was. He had this adorable boyish charm about him but at the same time he had this raw masculinity. It was amazing to just watch him, the way he moved, how he talked. I really wished I was able to memorize his face but it was hard to do when I got so lost in his features and forgot how to breathe.

“What are you staring at?” he asked with a laugh.

“You,” I said simply.

He smiled and shook his head.

“Well show time is over, because it’s time to eat,” he said, carrying two plates over to the table. He pulled out my chair for me and sat down, squirming slightly in his seat. It was clear that he was suddenly nervous about whether or not I was going to like his food.

But it was delicious. And the conversation was even better. While we had spent the last month getting to know each other, it seemed like there was endless amounts more for us to learn. Most of our basic information was available on the internet with both of us in the public eye, enabling us to go much deeper much quicker. We talked about our childhoods to our hopes for the future. Anything and everything under the sun was on the table. Well almost everything.

We still hadn’t talked much about past relationships, which was just fine with me as Tom didn’t press it. But there was something that Tom was very interested in. My mental health. He seemed fascinated, like he wanted to learn anything and everything he could about how I dealt with anxiety, depression, panic attacks, what my triggers were, and so on.

“I just want to be as understanding and respectful and helpful as I can be,” he said when I asked him why he was so interested.

“Wow,” I said before I could stop myself.

“Wow what?” he asked.

“It’s just that no one has ever felt like that before, let alone said it to me,” I said, moving the food around on my plate.

He reached across the table and took my hand in his, dropping the fork onto my plate.

“Love, how many times do I have to tell you? I really care about you,” he said with intense eyes.

“I care about you too,” I said softly.

“That’s good to know,” he smiled slightly.

It was then that I realized something. While I had trouble grasping it, he had very often told me how he felt about me. I however had not.

“Tom,” I started slowly. But I wasn’t sure where I was going.

“Yes?” he prompted patiently.

“I,” but I was still stumbling, “I just want you to know how much I like you and care about you. I’m not always the best at talking about it but I want to try.”

He nodded at me but stayed silent.

I took a deep breath.

“You’re kind of the most amazing guy I’ve ever met. You’re so sweet and caring and you honestly take my breath away. I don’t know how I got so lucky that you picked me,” I said, shaking my head.

He smiled.

“It’s me that’s the lucky one, trust me,” he said, leaning forward.

I was about to argue when he stood up and moved around the table to kneel on one leg next to me. He took my hands in his.

“Sydney love,” he said softly, “I can’t even begin to tell you how I feel about you. But I certainly plan on trying.”

He lifted my hands up to his face and kissed them both.

“Are you ready for bed?” he asked.

Mentally, I swallowed hard.

I had purposefully not thought about this part. I wasn’t sure what to expect. What he expected. Or what I was ready for.

I simply nodded.

Tom carried my bag, led me to the bathroom and left, closing the door behind him so that I could get ready alone.  

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t think we were ready for everything. At least I knew I wasn’t. But there was still a lot of room for our physical relationship to grow.

I brushed my teeth and hair, washed my face, and got changed. I had packed a cute pair of pajama shorts and a silky tank top. That was okay wasn’t it? I certainly hoped so. I wasn’t brave enough to wear some of the more revealing and suggestive outfits I had, but I didn’t want to wear a ratty old t-shirt.

I took one last look in the mirror and left the bathroom with as much courage as I could muster only to be surprised by what I found.

Tom had set up pillows and a blanket on the couch and was dressed in a fitted black t-shirt and basketball shorts.

That didn’t make sense.

He smiled at me and took my waist in his hands, pulling me into him.

“Well goodnight, love,” he said, leaning in to kiss my cheek. I was shocked when he didn’t continue to kiss me but instead took a step back.

As he started to drop his arms I snapped back into focus and tightened my own arms around him.

It was a testament to his intuition that he stopped, realizing what I wanted, for my strength was not enough to hold him.

“What?” he asked, lost.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To sleep?” he said uncertainly, like he was missing something. I knew I was.

It took me a moment but I realized he did not plan on sleeping in his room with me. He was going to spend the night on the couch.

“On the couch?” I asked, unsure.

“Yes of course,” he said nodding.

“But why?” I asked.

He gapped at me.

I’d finally said something he didn’t know how to respond to.

“You’re not going to stay with me?” I asked, starting to feel hurt, “Did I do something wro-”

He was shaking his head at me, eyes wide as he pulled me in close.

“No love, of course not!” he said quickly, “I just thought, I mean I was trying to, well I didn’t want to . . .”

He was floundering.

He was at a complete loss as to what to say.

He was adorable.

I couldn’t help myself as I reached up to kiss him, which took him by surprise because it surely wasn’t my strength that made him stumble backwards slightly. But he reciprocated almost instantly, moving his lips against mine and squeezing me in his arms.

He seemed very content to continue kissing me as he became more aggressive and tightened his grip. But suddenly he pulled away.

“No, Sydney, I can’t,” he said, grimacing and shaking his head.

“Why not?” I asked still hurt.

“Because I . . .” he looked at me but stopped at the sight of my face.

I realized that it wasn’t just that he thought he shouldn’t stay with me, it was that he didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry,” I said looking down and taking a step backwards. But his arms became a ridged cage around me.

“No, don’t be,” he said, looking concerned now, “It’s my fault. I just wanted to be respectful and not pressure you into anything or make you uncomfortable. It’s not that I don’t want to, I just . . . well I want to be good to you,” he finished softly.

“You are good to me,” I said, locking my arms around his neck, “Too good.”

“I’m just not sure it’s a good idea,” he said, grimacing again.

“Okay,” I nodded my head, looking down.

I let go of him and started to move away.

Suddenly, he grabbed me.

Roughly taking me into his arms and covering my mouth with his.

He was so strong. And fast. I was never going to be able to keep up with him. He held me so tightly, one arm around my middle and one holding my face to his. My hands were on his back, holding on tightly so that I didn’t lose my balance and fall over, though something told me that Tom wouldn’t let that happen.

Before I knew it, my back hit part of a wall. I hadn’t realized he’d moved me to the door frame of his room. He gripped the door frame with his hand, the other pulling me closer to him. He was breathing so heavily and I could barely catch mine.

He looked at me with frantic eyes.

He was searching mine for any uncertainty, any hesitation.

But he must not have found any because he pressed his lips against mine.

It wasn’t long before he leaned me backwards and I felt the softness of his bed. I moved myself back and he moved himself over me.

Tom never let go of me and his lips never left mine. But our movements slowed. It was apparent to both of us how monumental this moment was.

We were all alone.

There was no one to stop or interrupt us. We were completely in control and responsible for whatever happened next. It was all up to us.

It was complete freedom and it terrified me.

I wasn’t sure how far I was really ready to go.

But worse, I wasn’t sure how capable I was of stopping, or letting him stop.

His lips broke away from mine and he touched his forehead to mine.

His breath was warm and sweet on my face.

I looked into his eyes and forgot to breathe.

I let out a long shaky breath.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, just as he had the other night on the bus.

I answered the same.

“No,” I said, shaking my head.

“Are you sure?” he questioned, “I need you to tell me when to stop,” he said urgently.

I bit my lip.

“I’m not sure I can do that,” I admitted.

“I need you too,” he said.

I took a deep breath.

“Okay,” I said.

It was clear that he wouldn’t go any further unless I agreed to his terms.

“Promise,” he ordered, “Promise you’ll tell me.”

“I promise,” I said, my brows furrowing in concern as I reached up to brush some lose curls off his forehead.

“Sydney,” he whispered, “I love you.”

The world stopped.

“I love you too Tom,” I breathed back.

He leaned down and softly pressed his lips to mine; creating a kiss I wanted to last forever.

But it wasn’t too long before the kissing began to escalate. Soon both of our shirts were on the floor and Tom’s body was pressed against mine. I could tell he was trying to keep a pace that I would be able to follow and that he was attempting to control himself. But I wasn’t making it easy. He let out a frustrated groan as I knotted my hand in his hair and pulled slightly. My other hand was gripping his back and I couldn’t stop as my nails dug into his skin.

That was it.

He lifted me slightly so that he could quickly unhook my bra and toss it across the room.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

He ran his hands all over me, my arms, shoulders, breasts, stomach, and back. He intertwined our fingers and pulled my hands above my head, then took both my wrists in just one of his hands so that he could continue to explore with the other.

I was squirming beneath him. Without the use of my hands I was not satisfied. I did not enjoy not being able to touch him. But all he did was smile and press his body against mine. I couldn’t stop moving so he wrapped each of his legs with mine.

I snaked my tongue out to wet his lips. It didn’t take much for him to open his mouth, meeting my tongue with his. But this distracted him enough, letting go of my hands to cup my face to his. I instantly found him with my hands, touching every inch I could reach, his chest, arms, back. I ran my fingers through his hair and tugged ever so slightly.

He moaned against my lips.

He began to kiss down my neck, slowly approaching my shoulder, then following down my collar bone. Small gasps and sighs escaped my lips. He was going to drive me insane.

He moved even slower as he reached my breasts, softly pressing his lips to my skin as if I were made of glass.

“Tom,” I sighed.

He merely hummed in response.

He then continued down the center of my stomach, lightly brushing his lips against my skin.  

Tom didn’t stop until he reached the waistband of my shorts.

Ever so gently, he tugged on them with his teeth.

I took a sharp inhale of air.

He froze and looked up at me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip.

I felt him move and my eyes snapped open.

He had shrugged out of his shorts.

I reached out for him.

He took my hand in his and kissed the back of it.

Then he ducked his head down and kissed my stomach just above my shorts.

Again he tugged at them with his teeth. But this time he continued, slowly pulling them down to my knees before he used his hand to completely take them off. His eyes were on me, but it was all I could do to remember to breathe.

For a third time he leaned down to kiss my stomach, this time just above my underwear. Then he placed a second one just below that.

“Tom,” I said softly, closing my eyes, “Stop,” I whispered.

Once again he froze, this time looking at me with frightened eyes.

“Sydney, I’m so sorry,” he said frantically, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have . . .”

“Tom it’s okay,” I said, propping myself up on my elbow and reaching out to touch his face with my free hand. I rubbed my thumb back and forth across his cheek before brushing a curl off his face.

He just stared at me, wide eyed.

“Really, I promise,” I said softly, though he shook his head, “Don’t you trust me?” I asked.

“Of course I do,” he said, taking my hand from his face so that he could kiss my palm.

“Good,” I smiled, “Now get back here.”

He hesitated for only a moment but then he moved back on top of me, touching my nose with his.

Then we melted into a kiss that could have lasted a lifetime.

Tags:

@cleocc  @starllords @harryssxnflwr

 Author’s note: Thank you so much to everyone who has been giving me support you are amazing and I love you! Always feel free to send me a message/ask I would love to hear from you!! 

#Avengers #avengers marvel #Marvel's Avengers #Avengers infinity war #avengers endgame #couple #dating #update #fantasy #fan #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #holland #homecoming #tom holland #holland fic #love #love story #I love you #tom holland love #romance #romance story #tom holland romance #tom #story #tom holland fan fic #tom holland girlfriend #tom holland fan #tom holland spiderman

[feralquirks]

“Are you sure about this?”

“Um… Absolu- uh, A-absolutely nn-not.”

“Is this safe?”

“Ff-for us? Nuh-, uh, no.”

“Okay…”

“…”

“…”

“Let’s do this.”

Hand in hand, Kaede and Izuku stood at the edge of the newly re-fixed nature pool that Korosensei had rebuilt after the whole Itona Strikes Again fiasco not too long ago. Not surprisingly, Korosensei managed to fix it again. “Again” because a day later, it had been un-fixed by some no-good delinquents - by total accident! It was an accident. Deeefinitely wasn’t Izuku trying to test how fast Megu and Isogai could swim and which one was the fastest. Totally NOT his fault, in fact, it was destiny, dare he say! Of course those two would go barreling toward the dam so fast, they couldn’t stop, and well wouldn’t you know it, how’d that dam break??

Ahem.

Anyway. There they were, almost a month later (they had stalled the entire time) standing by the edge of the nature pool, swimming tubes around their waists, floaties strapped around their arms, noodles held in both their hands—both green, as well—with goggles donned over their eyes, swimming caps keeping their forest hair concealed and of course, swim fins fastened to their feet. And if anyone thought that wasn’t overkill enough, they also had kick boards waiting on the sideline with snorkels and other character-shaped float devices already blown up and ready for use in case all else failed. (Kaede picked out the giant swan while Izuku brought up the flamingo)

“One,” they both counted together. “Two… Three!”

“Not so fast—” came a voice just as two hands grabbed the back of Izuku’s shirt and Kaede’s one-piece swimsuit right before the two tried to jump into the water.

They were held in the air like cats by the scruff, All Might holding them with his signature smile never leaving. In fact, Izuku would venture to say he had a rather smug glint to his teeth. Cheeky. How nice.

“Aaaaall Miiiiight,” the children whined.

“Now, now, you both know the rules when using the Class E pool! Always have adult supervision!” Slowly, the hero-slash-teacher set the two down, but never let go of them—instead transferring his hands to both their shoulders to keep them in place. “Especially you two.”

“But Aaall Miiiiiiiiight,” Kaede whined some more while Izuku groaned in dismay. It was no secret Kaede and Izuku were the worst swimmers in class—they knew why Kaede couldn't swim after her whole… thing, but only a spare few had any real guesses as to why Izuku couldn't. It was traced back to his childhood trauma—the sludge villain.

Those who had eavesdropped when he had explained himself to Korosensei that day with the pudding explosion knew at least. No one brought it up to Izuku, though, of course. What would they say anyway? Hey, Izukun, real quick—is the reason why you can't swim because of that run in with that one sludge villain when you were tiny? Are you afraid of drowning, is that why you never learned how to swim? Yeah, like that'll go over well. Sure, just casually bring up Izuku's trauma like that, mhm.

Izuku never would confirm nor deny it anyway. He was an enigma like that, which was fine—it was his business and no one else’s.

Izuku kicked at the grass, his arms crossed in indignation. "Then why nn-not you sup-ss-suh, um-"

" Supervise ,” Kaede offered softly.

Izuku pointed at her. "Yeah, tha'."

All Might stared at them for a solid ten seconds, making them squirm in their skin almost. Then he clapped loudly. "EXCELLENT IDEA, MY BOY! Give me a moment to change my clothes, then!"

"Oh, that's not-"

And he was off, hiding behind a tree to change into his one-piece secretly.

"Oh, he's gonna do it like that, huh…"

"Don't look!"

"S… Sir, did-did you, uh, come here wuh-with the, uh. In-intuh-in… mmm… Why??"

"A hero is always prepared for anything, my boy!"

Izuku and Kaede shared a look before dissolving into giggles. All Might then stepped out from behind the tree, his one-piece swimsuit a dazzling red-white-and-blue with a large white star on his chest. How patriotic, and yet completely unsurprising. He had his hands on his sides, boasting his muscles proudly, as if that would help them feel better about him being their temporary lifeguard.

“Well, then children! How about it?!” he offered loudly, taking large strides back toward them. “Ready to jump in now?!”

Izuku opened his mouth, then paused. Both students glanced back to the water just behind them, and they could just feel the irrational fear beginning to crawl from their stomachs to their throats. Izuku swallowed and glanced to his friend. All the bravado and blind bravery they previously held had diminished after All Might had interrupted them and they had the chance to calm down.

Both students turned back to All Might, who smiled with them with the innocence of a waiting dog.

“Uh…”

“W-well, uh- y’see, All Mmm-Might, um…”

“Yes? Yes?” his voice came out so eager, ready to serve and teach something valuable or something. So excited.

They gave a strained smile. Well…

As if finally catching onto the air of the two, the hero snapped up straight, clapping his hands once. “OH! You must be waiting for me, aren’t you?! Fear not! I will guide you into the water! After all, no one expects an infant to simply jump into water for the first time!”

Did he just call us infants…? Kaede and Izuku glowered at All Might’s direction as they watched him ready himself with simple stretches.

“However; First thing’s first, children!” he began as he stretched his legs in a runner’s stance while his arms were pulled over his head. “It’s best to do your stretches before going in the water! Follow my lead, my students!”

And so that’s how they spent the next fifteen-twenty minutes after the two stripped themselves from their floating devices. Then after, they spent another three minutes putting everything back on while All Might drew himself into the water. It wasn’t even all that deep—only going to All Might’s belly button, if Izuku were to guess. All Might was a tall man, afterall (which, unfortunately, that would mean the water would go up to Izuku’s shoulders if he was lucky—not to mention Kaede would still be completely underwater if she stood from the bottom, huh…). But even so, staring at water and being in it were two different things—and being in the water and actually swimming in it were also two different things. It was… daunting. Yeah, he’ll say that.

All Might gestured for them to approach. “Come now, I’ll be sure to catch you!”

Kaede squirmed in her floaties, pulling at the straps of her swimsuit while Izuku wrung his hands and rolled his shoulders with anxiety. Kaede cleared her throat, “U-um, well—could, er—”

“We, well— it- is’lah-huhm-the fr’k-wat’r—fer-fer-fer-frick,” Izuku tried to assist before his brain started to once again trip his tongue over into dirt and he practically shoved his fist in his mouth to stop it from continuing to tumble down its hill.

Kaede pursed her lips and glanced away, obviously trying not to laugh at her friend’s stumble, but even Izuku seemed to be struggling with not laughing at himself as he looked down and pretended to kick something with those large flipper shoes of his. All Might paid it no mind, but there was no doubt there was any amusement in his expression as he wadded closer to the edge.

“Worry not!” All Might’s voice boomed again, giving both his hands to the children. And then, there was softness that came from his voice as his fingers just barely tapped on the students’. “Didn’t I say I would guide you through it? Give me your hands, everything is alright. I am here!”

There was hesitation, a stir of icky worms made of anxiety that squirmed in both their stomachs, tangling together into knots and adding a weight to their feet. Izuku swallowed down the feeling of choking and itching all over his body, while Kaede struggled to push away the feeling of stickiness wrapped around her body. It was completely irrational—there was nothing, absolutely no reason for them to behave this way, feel this way, and yet… All Might was being so patient with them, smiling encouragingly and waiting for them to make a decision, make a move…

Kaede sucked in a deep breath then, puffing her small chest up and tightening her hold on her swimsuit before taking All Might’s hand and letting him guide her slowly into the nature pool. He muttered softly to her as she gave sudden yelps of fear as she entered the water, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Don’t worry about touching the floor, just trust in your floaties. Keep holding my hand. That’s right, you’ve got it!”

Izuku pursed his lips in discomfort, his hands clenched tightly into the fabric of his shirt. How on earth did he think jumping in without any supervision was a smart idea before? Oh, no, that’s right, he knew it was stupid, they were just riding on high energy—the kind of energy that makes you think you can take down a tiger and then climb Mt. Everest. Yeah, definitely stupid.

All Might drifted Kaede to one of the noodles floating nearby, where she scrambled to reach for it before hugging it tightly to her chest and making grunts like she thought she would fall over, but the pro hero never stopped holding onto her hand. “You’ve got it?”

Kaede nodded, though she seemed like a terrified rabbit—frozen and just waiting.

“Good, good,” All Might then turned to Izuku, his other hand gestured toward him. “Are you ready, my boy?”

“Uh- um, um…” Izuku started to fidget a lot more then. His shoulders rolled this way and that and his jaw clenched and unclenched while his hands went from wringing each other to pecking and pulling at the thin skin on the back of one of his hands. Okay, Izuku, it’s now or never, right?! Now or never! And it’s just water, right!?! Like, it can’t KILL me, right?!?!?????  

He paused mentally.

Actually, me, don’t answer that!  

The curly haired boy swallowed then, clenching his hands to his sides before nodding and taking his mentor’s hand. Just like with Kaede, the teacher helped Izuku into the pool slowly, instructing him to sit on the edge and then slide in— and don’t worry about falling into the water, your floaties will help you, and so will I. Just keep holding my hand, I’ve got you. We’ll guide you over to the noodles, and I’ll get you the water boards too, if you want.

Izuku felt his stomach flip when half his body went underwater, but it never went past his chest. He couldn’t feel the bottom, and the water made the gravity of his body weird, but he supposed that was normal since water has a different density and did weird things anyway but—anyway.

“Kick your feet to move, alright?” the pro hero instructed patiently. For a moment, it seemed like Kaede nor Izuku wanted to even move, in fear of slipping from the safety of the floaty around their chests and arms and into the water, but then Izuku started to kick his feet underwater. One kick, two kick—he wasn’t angled right, so he wasn’t going anywhere fast, but it was a kick in the right direction and he had edged toward the noodle he wanted to grab with his left hand while his right hand was clamped tightly around All Might’s.

All Might smiled proudly at the two—it didn’t seem like either of them were really going to be learning anything just yet, but the effort they were displaying was more than enough to show that they were hard workers and ready to learn. And facing a fear like this, no matter how small it was, was a big step on its own, and the hero couldn’t have been more proud of them.

The three of them spent a good while in the nature pool, not really swimming or learning how to swim, but just getting used to the water—just learning that it wasn’t a danger. It wouldn’t bite them, wouldn’t try and kill them… just that it existed and was there. So they floated around each other, still attached to All Might’s hands or arms and once in a while batting the other with their noodle and laughing over how when Izuku blew into one end of the noodle, water would jet out the other suddenly and hit Kaede or All Might in the face.

When that had happened the first time, that’s when All Might knew they had broken the ice with their fear of the water, and he couldn’t stop smiling with his two students.

#🐾 ━ drabbles #🐾 ━ izuku; lucky foot #🐾 ━ kaede; knife on a roomba #🐾 ━ toshinori; all might #drowning mention tw #DONT WORRY IT'S ACTUALLY WHOLESOME.... QUALITY DAD SON & GF BONDING

[lovelylunarwriting]

Gryffindor!Jae x Slytherin!Reader

It had been some years since you’ve seen that cheesy grin.

You were childhood besties with Jae up until you got your letter to attend Hogwarts.

Coming from a muggle family and not knowing any other people with magic other than yourself, you figured you shouldn’t tell Jae, even if he was your best friend.

After spending an entire afternoon brainstorming some excuse to tell him for why you’d be suddenly absent from his life for the next several years, he beat you to the punch and confessed that he’d be moving at the end of summer.

You: “Alaska?”

Jae: “...yep. Good ol’ Alaska”

You: “But why?”

Jae: “Uhh my parents said something about a new job opportunity, but all I know is that we’re moving. Sorry”

You: “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway because my parents are sending me to boarding school”

Jae: “Boarding school? With your grades?”

You: “Hey!”

Jae: “Don’t worry, I’m just playing. Everyone knows you’re a try hard”

But it didn’t matter how hard you tried when it came to Jae, because instead of enjoying the last summer you two might ever have together, he spent the whole time avoiding you.

He used the “I asked my mom and she said no” excuse more times that you could count.

After a few weeks of trying to go play outside with him as you guys did every summer and getting shot down every time, you gave in and accept that he just didn’t want to be friends anymore.

“Guess it works out that I’m going to Hogwarts, then. I’ll find a new best friend”, you told yourself, but it didn’t help mend the Jae-sized hole in your young heart.

With everything that happened with Jae, the last thing you expected to see today is Jae in distinctly red Gryffindor robes laughing with your best friend, Young K.

They’re walking down the hall, going the opposite way of you, and neither see you since you duck behind some Hufflepuff kids.

But then you realize “I’m gonna have to face this now or later, might as well do it now”

“HEY, JAE!”, you yell across the hall, and he stops dead in his tracks, still staring straight ahead.

Young K turns are like “???” but then realizes that it’s just you, and calls you over to the two of them.

Young K: “Hey, Y/N! I didn’t think you knew Jae?”

You: “I didn’t know that he’s a wizard but I sure do know that he lied to me”, you snap, the hurt apparent in your voice.

And with that sharp comment, Jae winces and breaks his staring contest with the wall, shifting his gaze carefully down to you.

Jae: “I didn’t want to lie, but I really didn’t know what to tell you. And you lied, too! Boarding school, my ass”

You: “This is?? A boarding school”

Jae: “Yeah but it’s a magic boarding school- how convenient of you to leave that part out”

You: “Just because I didn’t tell you the full truth doesn’t mean that I lied”

Meanwhile, Young K just looks back between the two of you, somewhat horrified but mostly very confused.

Young K: “...Do you guys want to go talk this out over lunch since that’s where we were heading anyway?”

You and Jae reluctantly mumble your agreement and trudge behind Young K all the way to the long Slytherin table.

You elegantly slide yourself onto the bench while Jae less gracefully plops himself down next to you.

Young K eyes the both of you like you're a ticking time bomb and cautiously takes the seat across from you.

Young K: “So you two know each other?”

You: “We were childhood friends”

Jae: “We are childhood best friends”, he corrects.

You: “Sorry, didn't you have somewhere to be?? Like oh I don't know- Alaska?”

Jae: “Bro, are you ever going to let that go?”

You: “Well it doesn’t help that I just found out now. I honestly don’t know how I didn’t spot you, a literal tree, before today. Plus- I’ll let go of that when you let go of the pool incident”

Mention of this particular event has Young K tilting his head, clearly lost, and Jae cackling way more than any normal person would.

You: “It’s not that funny!”

Jae: “Check your facts again, it’s actually very funny”

Young K: “What are you talking about?”

Jae: “Well what happened was-”

You: “NO SIR. If anyone’s telling this story, it’s me. I’m the victim here”

Jae: “Victim my ass, but alright. Go ahead”, he says, doing a grand gesture with his arms signalling you to continue.

You then go on to tell the story of one of you and Jae’s childhood summer escapades, where you happened to go to the pool.

Y’all weren’t there to swim, though. The volleyball courts were right outside of the pool.

Jae had thought that playing volleyball- or at least attempting to- would be a fun way to spend the day.

And that’s exactly what you did, whack a volleyball back and forth all day under the hot sun.

Towards the middle of the day, when the sun was at its peak, you mentioned offhand that it was getting too blazing hot to be outside any longer.

To which lil Jae was like “I’ve got the perfect idea!” and THREW YOU INTO THE POOL.

T-Shirt, shorts, tennis shoes and all. Drenched.

You never swam faster in your life than you did in that moment to get out of the pool and kiLL jaE.

Instead of continuing your volleyball streak, you spent the rest of that day chasing around Jae and threatening to tell his mom what he’d done.

After a few minutes though, it morphed into a lighthearted game of chase.

Telling this story to Young K brings up something inside of you that had been gone for quite a while. A sort of happiness that only the too-tall-for-his-own-good boy, Jae, could make you feel.

From there on out, it’s like you and Jae were never apart to begin with. One of you is always with the other.

Even though you don’t have any classes together, you’ve got each others schedules memorized so you can walk by their classes and make faces at one another through the windows when the professor isn’t looking.

This time around, Jae’s making faces at you from outside your classroom and the professor happens to turn around and face the window the exact moment Jae makes the cringiest duck face imaginable and you just,,,, lose it.

So does the rest of the class, who are used to the two of you doing this kind of thing by now.

Once the laughter dies down, your professor makes a comment that hits close to home for whatever reason.

“Y/N, please tell your boyfriend not to disrupt my classes with his… antics”

Everyone else is like “yeah Y/N, get your boyfriend in check, smh” and you’re sitting there like “Boy??? Friend?? Boy that is my friend? Or b o y f r i e n d”

The rest of the day you have the internal fight with yourself of “Is Jae my boyfriend?? When did that happen?? Do I even want him to be my boyfriend??”

When you lay in bed at the end of the day though, you stop trying to deny how you truly feel.

You really like Jae and would die of happiness if he wanted to be with you but… does he feel the same way?

He’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember and you don’t want to ruin it by saying anything weird.

At the same time though, now that you’re laying in bed, ya know,,,, reflecting on your whole life, as one does.

Has Jae been flirting with you recently?

Ever since reconnecting with him at Hogwarts, he’s been glued to your side. It’s not that that makes you think he might think the two of you are something more, though.

He’s always holding open doors for you, throwing an arm around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing to do, and complimenting you about practically everything.

And on top of that, he always makes a point to take you out at least once a week but you thought that's just what best friends do??

It's not exactly like you can say “hey when we went to Hogsmeade last Tuesday was that a date or nah”

“I’ll confront him about it tomorrow”, you tell yourself, dismissing the whole situation for the time being and getting some rest.

The next morning at breakfast, Jae slides into his usual seat right next to you but you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

And of course, being your best friend, he immediately picks up on it.

Jae: “Hey, what’s up with you today?”

You: “I... well I don’t know how to ask this without seeming like an idiot”

Jae: “I’m friends with Wonpil- I’m used to stupid questions. Shoot”

You: “Okay then I’m just gonna go right out and say it so- um... arewedating?”

Jae: “I'm sorry, what did you say?”

You: “See?? It was stupid, I'm just gonna go-”

Jae: “No, like I literally couldn't understand what you were saying because you said it so fast”

You: “I uhhhhhhhh asked if we are,,,,,,, dating”

Mentally preparing yourself for the anguish that comes with losing a friend as close to your heart as Jae is, ironically you find yourself completely unprepared to respond to what he asks next.

Jae: “Do you want to be?”

You: “Do I want to be what? An astronaut?”, accidentally blurting out sarcasm even in this relatively serious situation.

Jae: “No- dating. Do you want me to be your boyfriend?”

You: “!! Well uhh that depends, do you want that?”

Jae: “Of course I do, I've liked you for like forever”

You: “you w h a t”

Jae: “I've liked you since we were kids. Some things never change, I guess”

You: “I… like you too, ya know”

Jae: “Oh I would hope so, otherwise that would make this really awkward”, he says and leans in.

Cupping your face with one hand, he gently presses his lips to yours, making your heart rate increase faster than you'd like to admit was possible by kissing your best friend.

You: “...that's the cheesiest, most cliche thing you've ever done”

Jae: “Totally, but it was worth it”

You: “Okay- whatever you say, loser”

Jae: “Yes, but now I'm your loser~”

Neither of you remember to tell Young K that you're now a couple but he finds out in,,,, another way.

Aka the two of you are making out in the library, you pressed against a bookshelf by Jae’s lean body, when Young K happens to glance down that particular aisle.

He immediately shrieks and runs out of the library to go complain to Sungjin about it.

Jae just shrugs and continues carefully placing kisses down your neck.

After the initial trauma of seeing his two best friends getting steamy in the library, Young K is on board with the relationship, regardless of how many jokes he makes about Jae.

Not you, really. Just Jae.

One day, Jae brings up a question that you don't know how to answer.

Jae: “Why do you call him that?”

You: “Call who what??”

Jae: “You call Brian “Young K”. It’s doing too much for his ego- you gotta call him Brian and knock him down a peg”

You: “Will it make you happy if I do?”

Jae: “Absolutely. A hundred percent”

You: “Consider it done”

The next time you see Young K, it's in passing on your way out of class.

You tried to sit together at the beginning of the semester but got separated by the teacher for “teaming up and bullying the Hufflepuff students”

Pretty much, there was one time where you both shoved Wonpil in the closet in the back of the classroom, put a chair under the door, and cast a noise-cancelling spell on the door so no one would notice.

But anyway, you happen to pass him on your way out the door, and say as casually as you can, “See you tomorrow, Brian!”

He drops his books, that he'd been trying to put in his bag, all over the floor and looks at you with shock, disbelief, and betrayal.

Young K: “I knew Jae would get to you one day, but I never thought it would be so soon”

You: “Tragicm really. Gotta go, adiós BRYAN!”

Being around Jae so much has you picking up phrases that he says, and him saying a lot of your common phrases.

Like one time you said “Let’s get it!” without even thinking about it and it made Jae so happy he almost cried.

Spending so much time with Jae is honestly the best thing. He’s just such a fun person to be around, that even if you're just doing homework, the little comments he makes on random things make even the most boring of tasks enjoyable.

Going from best friend to boyfriend, Jae ends up being just the thing you didn’t realize you needed until he became yours.

#day6 #day 6 #day6 jae #jae #day6 scenario #day6 scenarios #day6 imagines #day6 imagine #day6 writing #day6 writings #day6 fluff #day6 au #jae scenarios #jae imagines #jae scenario #jae imagine #jae fluff #jae au

[violetemerald]

Hi! If you still accept prompts, can I ask for Aaron Hotchner in that meme you've filled with Oliver Queen? Thank you and have a nice day!

yes, @zserb i would love to get even more of these, they’re very fun! And work is literally non-existent for me at my job, I’m literally on my phone all day for over a week now… Other than going outside to look at the 82% coverage eclipse. Good timing with This character too as i just continued my rewatch of this show in season 8 yesterday after taking a break to see all of the new seasons of Prison Break and Shameless. Btw, to my followers… This is an answer for: http://luvtheheaven.tumblr.com/post/164336916472/send-me-a-character-and-ill-answer-these

1: sexuality headcanon - This is a complicated one for me. Reading fanfiction about criminal minds it makes me pretty uncomfortable when any of the characters are shown explicitly having sex, or even really… interested in it at all; my sex-aversion is just wierdly strong with this fandom. I find it easier to imagine him as solely attracted to women than at all to men, so any suggestion that he’s not heterosexual because he’s bi just feels. Incorrect? to me. But I do, on occasion, find it fun to think of him as being sexually attracted to Dave Rossi. In a really really abstract, I don’t want to read fics about it but I can enjoy moments that tease at that on the show. Like… the beginning of episode 8x02 when, in canon, Garcia calls Rossi’s Altruism sexy as Hotch walks in and says yes it is. I mean. Honestly I’m just more used to straight as default is all it is. He could be some degree bi, I don’t think I’m really against that. Lol idk. I do really really like a demisexual Hotch headcanon and have for years now I think. Demisexuality needs still the specification of if it’s restricted to a gender or not. I lean towards probably heterosexual demisexual but maybe when the mood strikes I think David Rossi is the only man he’s ever been attracted to. And I don’t exactly think he’s had a *ton* of women he feels that way about.

2: otp - definitely a complicated close call between queerplatonic shipping of Rossi&Hotch and me feeling weirdly strong feelings for Hotch/JJ (Jotch) which I had zero of the first time I watched the show but this time around I take notes and I just love their dynamic and believe they’re attracted to each other. Rossi & Hotch have more scenes that are emotionally intense in canon, are easier to ship in the fandom context, etc but I like them more platonically (platonic commitment-ly?)So for a definitely romantic and sexual type of OTP for him, I currently lean more towards JJ. Tbh I prefer platonic bonds on this series though.

(Read more answers below the cut!)

3: brotp - as I said in my Arrow answers I’m not a fan of this term although the more all of fandom uses it, the more I’m worn down and i don’t hate it the way i once did i guess. It still feels really weird to me as encompassing of all platonic bonds, even between women? Even when “bro” would be the last thing out of either character’s mouth? Etc.

Ok so my answer. Well I’ve already said I adore Hotch&Rossi in a queerplatonic way actually as like my OTP. I love all of Hotch’s relationships so much… this is tough. Probably BroTP is Garcia&Hotch because he appreciates her in a really unique way, she calls him Sir, they have such clashing personalities and yet they both are some of the most sensitive and most aware of everyone else at all times. Their moments I’ve been collecting notes on as well for future potential vidding. (And btw yes I take notes on Rossi&Hotch scenes and other things, too)

4: notp - As i said when i answered for Arrow, I like this term more. Hmm. I’m not 100% sure I have a hard NOTP for him in terms of ships I’ve actually heard of people shipping. I’m pretty uncomfortable with any of his ships being sexual but a good fic could probably convince me. The biggest NOTP I can think of off the top of my head might be Foyett/Hotch lol but now I am tempted to see what kind of fic is out there out of like morbid curiosity for crack-fic level something or I don’t even know. I prefer a lot of ships not be shipped but I don’t have a particular NOTP right now.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head - that the only person on the show who knows about the trauma in his childhood (an elaborate sub-headcanon I’ve made up) is David Rossi although the other profilers suspect lots of the pieces. Even Haley knew less of the details than Rossi.

6: favorite line from this character - like with Oliver… Not really something I have memorized lol.I do remember really liking Hitch at the end of 4x17… Morgan and Rossi are on opposite sides and then they bring Hotch into it. M: “Rossi, don’t tell me you believe in evil.”R: “Don’t tell me you do this job and you don’t.”M: “I believe there are evil acts, but those are choices, brain chemistry. What do you think, Hotch?”H: “I think deep down, we’re all capable of unspeakable things. Where it starts, or what you call it, I don’t know.”I don’t really have a specific favorite quote… that just was the first one that came to my mind. 7: one way in which I relate to this character - idk, his introversion is much more extreme than my current self, he’s very different from me overall, but maybe I’m a petty good leader, in certain circumstances as is he? Or maybe a better example is he likes children and I do too.

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character - um… Idk. This is a pretty tough one. The actor publicly being fired kinda outshines any embarrassment the character went through. I’m embarrassed for him I guess when Dave teases him about Beth…

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? - i think i have to go with cinnamon roll?

[loveriddenpilled]

junior year pt 1

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟷𝟼𝟹𝟷 

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜, 𝚜𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔!

Something happened in my junior year of high school. I don’t know what it was, but I know it was the reason my mom and I left Oakesdale. There’s something missing from my memory. I shudder every time I try to imagine what could’ve happened that Mom made me pack everything I could into a suitcase and cut off contact with everyone in the small town. She forced me to leave behind my childhood, my home, everything. I thought she wanted me to get away because of what Evie and Gage did to me, but her demeanor was much more serious.

It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m older, better, stronger. I’ve considered going back to Oakesdale to try to find out what actually happened, but I haven’t been able to convince myself enough to actually do it. I moved on with my life and I don’t want to go back to who I was before I left. Whatever that was.

I sat on my bed taking notes for my English lit class when Flora sat down next to me, most likely to show me her newest Pinterest board. Flora is my roommate and closest friend. She has the kind of smile that lights up any room and eyes that twinkle every time she sees something she likes. She sat down next to me and began to scroll through the pictures on her phone of aesthetically pleasing outfits she wanted to recreate. I listen to her, but I don’t. On the surface, my friendship with Flora is picture-perfect. But there something about her honeyed voice and butterscotch hair that makes me want to slam a textbook into her oh so pretty face. I’m not that strong physically, but I’m sure it wouldn’t take that much force to sink her face into her throat. I think back to my physics class last year and my final project all about the uses of physics in murder. I was lucky my teacher, Mrs. Prospero, was also a true crime fan, or else I doubt I would’ve gotten an A. I thought back to the slide about blunt force trauma. I had laid out Newton’s Second Law of motion and joked about how Sir Isaac Newton probably wouldn’t have wanted his laws of motion used like this, but oh well. Maybe I won’t be able to crack her skull, but I could potentially knock her out, or even give a concussion. A little silence would be nice. 

“Um, Juno? You okay there?” Flora’s voice pulled me out of that thought.

“I’m fine, I’m just really tired.” I soon return to my feelings of appreciation for Flora, momentarily forgetting the unexplained hatred I have for her deep inside myself. I don’t hate Flora, I really don’t. She’s my best friend and I’d die for her. But something about her reminds me of someone from my past and stirs up the dark and ugly inside of my heart. I try to smile, but both of us know it’s a useless attempt. My face looks like something out of a Tim Burton movie, big round eyes, narrow eyebrows, a small slightly turned-up nose, and lastly big heart-shaped lips. So basically I always look miserable. 

“Okay then. Well, I have a date tonight so don’t wait up for me.” I looked up at her, finally actually paying attention to her. She was dressed up in her favorite burgundy cocktail dress, an obvious sign she was meeting up with a guy tonight. The question was, who was her flavor of the week? I raised an eyebrow at her, “Who’s the lucky guy?” Flora was at the door, checking to see she had everything. “No one.” And then she left.

I glance over at the clock, it reads exactly 8 PM. Flora’s the kind of girl who goes out until the sun rises, even if she has a 10 AM class the next day. When we met, I craved to be able to live life like that. So far, I’ve adapted pretty well and found a balance between her wild lifestyle and my need for a lot of alone time. I feel my phone buzz from inside my pocket, it's Aidan. 

I met Aidan on a train, I was sitting on my own by a window at 25 A. As I was reading my favorite book, he sat next to me, looking as if he had just come out of one of those coming of age indie films. We talked the whole time. Which looking back, was truly extraordinary, I don't usually open up to people. Aiden and I have been dating for nearly two years, and he's my whole world. 

I take my phone out of my pocket to read the message.

Hey J, My headache is really acting up again, and I should probably get some rest. Can we do lunch tomorrow?

Great, he canceled again. I resist the urge to write him a whole paragraph on the need for compromise in a relationship, a value he is clearly lacking. It's okay don't worry about it tomorrow sounds good, hope you feel better. But it’s not okay. I clench my fists and gaze at the yellow roses next to Flora’s bed. Suddenly, the glass vase holding the roses broke into pieces. Almost like a small explosion. The water went everywhere and the roses fell to the floor where they would soon die. I would’ve gotten up to clean up the mess, but I really don’t care enough.

My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven't had dinner. I quietly leave my dorm and debate where I should go next. I could get my car and drive up to my favorite pizza place, or I could walk to the cafeteria and have some absolutely inedible food that's basically just fried matter. After carefully contemplating my options, I opt for the pizza. I hopped into my car and began driving. I should probably call Aiden.  A headache can mean anything from a sinus infection to a head aneurysm. I park my car in an empty parking lot and take my phone out. I try calling him but he doesn't answer, with every ring I can just picture him laying on the floor unconscious because of a stroke due to his possible brain aneurysm.  

“It's just a headache, it's just a headache, it's just a headache,” I whisper under my breath trying to calm myself down.

I need to go visit him, deep down I know he is okay. But if I don’t go, these thoughts will keep me up at night. I turn my car around and begin driving to Aidan’s house. When my mother and I moved away from Oakesdale she made me see many therapists. They all pretend to know what you're feeling. These so-called doctors just sit there behind their boundaries, I could be ripping my heart into a million shreds, my soul could be disintegrating into nothingness, yet these people would just sit there and watch.  As soon as I turned, I stopped seeing these Dr. Phil wannabes and started living my own life.

Soon I arrived at the house, I tried calling again but it went straight to voicemail. I can tell he is in there. That hideous lamp I begged him to throw away is on, and that white hospital-like glow is shining through the curtains. I ring the doorbell, but there is still no answer. I am starting to seriously consider the brain aneurysm theory at this point. I lifted the flower pot to reveal the set of spare keys, a trick one would only know if they had once lived in a small town like Oakesdale where everyone and their mother had a spare key in the flower pot. I fidgeted with the keys, do I really want to go in there? Whatever is behind that door, I know I’m not ready for. I take a deep breath and begin opening the door. I step inside and shut the door behind me. And what I see is my best friend draped on his couch with a drink in her hand. She lies there, in a position fairly reminiscent of how I would lay on the couch on date night. 

At first, she didn't notice. She looked up and saw me when the glass in her hand exploded, cutting her perfectly manicured fingers. I instantly felt a sense of déjà vu. When this happened to me before, I didn’t allow it, and I sure as hell won’t allow it now. You’re not that special, Flora.

I can't even look at her, I feel like an idiot. This is what happens when you trust people with your heart, they smash it and break it into a million pieces. Suddenly I'm back in Mrs. Prospero's class. I feel the sudden urge to recite my junior year  physics project.

“This law outlines the fact that velocity is king when it comes to traumatic injury.  The size of an object makes an impact upon the trauma sustained to the patient, however, velocity is the key to the extent of the injury.“ I mumble. At this point Flora looks puzzled. Suddenly it feels as if a light switch has been turned off in my brain. I walk over to the hideous lamp and yank the extension cord out of the outlet, the lamp must weigh about five pounds. My heart is racing, I bolt catching her off guard, and struck her with the lamp right on the forehead. She immediately collapsed onto the ground. Serves her right. Girls like her and Evie deserve this. Maybe they don’t, and I just tell myself that to stop the guilt. No. They had their spot reserved in hell; I was just sending them early.

#short story #original story #part 1 #oc #writing

[nappyfreesince2003-blog]

Mum and Dad

I want your attention. I’m trying to use as few words as possible to say as much as possible as fast as possible because I want this story to be told. I want people to know what happened and how it changed everything. But it’s a long story, and the people involved are real. They are very real. Will you give me the time and patience to do them justice? I want to tell the truth as best I can.

This all happened a month ago and I want to tell you everything before the details become fuzzy. I only have tonight, and then I’m gone forever. I’m going to throw you right into the action as soon as I can. But first, I want you to understand where, exactly, I was coming from…

 My desk was in the front of the classroom furthest from the window. I slung my bag down and pulled out my notepad and coloured pens. Colour coding was one of the few joys I allowed myself during that period of my life. Exam season was coming up and it was everything to me: my whole future was riding on these few months.

             Amber pulled out her file and put it on the desk next to mine.

             “Do you think we’ll get our mocks back today?” She asked as she slumped into the chair next to me. She looked as sleep deprived as I felt.

             “I don’t know,” I said, “I hope so. How do you think it went?”

             “Honestly, I don’t know, my cramp was so bad when I took it I don’t even remember any of the questions.” Amber normally outperforms me, and honestly, to my shame, I felt a little bit glad that maybe this time I got the higher grade…

             “Well, it’s chill anyway,” I tried to reassure her as she lay her head down on top of her file in despair. “It’s just a mock. We’ll go through the hard bits in class together anyway. Then you can resit it at home. I’ll sit it with you too, I’m pretty sure I didn’t get close to 100%, I ran out of time on one of the last questions.”

             “Thank you,” she mumbled through her folded arms. Amber had an air of cuteness about her that was impossible to pin down. I used to just ignore her, she was just another member of the Asian crowd that didn’t socialise with anyone who wasn’t ‘one of them’. But Amber had always wanted to reach out. She was friendly and appreciated my dedication to passing my exams unlike any of my friends from previous years… most of whom had dropped out or moved on at this stage. She had become my only real friend. Or at least, the only person I spoke to daily, and I was slowly becoming very fond of her.

             When we got our papers back she was staring at a C and I was frowning at a B. This was not acceptable on my terms. At this point I should be getting As, there’s only months until the final exam. I scanned through the annotations. Too much detail and not enough structure. My jaw clenched as I read the words. I can’t ever seem to shake that comment. Amber had the opposite problem, she skimmed everything but didn’t expanded on anything. We read each other’s.

             “Want to come over tonight?” I asked, with a ‘or we’re fucked’ kind of smile

             “Oh God, yes please,” she buried her face back in her arms. I stroked her smooth, wiry hair and made comforting noises.

             “Megan?” Miss James had popped her head around the door asking for me. “Mr. Brooks would like to speak with you.”

             A couple of idiots on the back row went “Ooooh”, while Amber comedically whispered “Don’t leave me like this.”

 I was waiting outside the headmaster’s office. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong. I’d gone from smoking joints behind the bike shed to little miss straight As, and everyone knew I wasn’t going back. I still felt nervous standing there though. I vividly remembered the last time I was here: begging for mercy… promising I would never do anything again, I was a scared little bitch. There was a cold sweat breaking and my skirt felt a good three inches too short.

“Hey, whot you in for?”

A distraction. A dopey, beat up kid with a thick, thick accent, but a distraction all the same.

“Me?” I gave him a look of shock, “I didn’t do anything…”

“Awright,” he grinned as the cogs in his neatly shaven head, then, shaking his head he said, “yeah yeah me nei’ver. U’m tellin’ you all these cops are bent.”

“Amen to that,” I smiled sideways. “What’s your name?”

“Will. You might’uve heard o’me.”

I hadn’t. But I did recognise the black spray paint stains on the whites of his palms.

“Was it you that graffitied the math block?”

He looked surprised, “Yeah awright, keep it down, though. Whot’s the giveaway?”

I told him. Then, seeing worry creep over his already jumpy deminer, I said, “It’s impressive. I like the style. She’s pretty good looking as well.” For context, the graffiti depicted a 7-foot, tasteful black and white stencil of a curvy nude woman. Well, tasteful for anywhere but in a school. This guy was most likely getting expelled, maybe suspended. But he had my respect.

“Thanks,” he smiled and directed those big brown eyes right at me.

I’ll say it here to cut the suspense, I had thought he was cool. But I wasn’t planning on being his mate. There are a lot of cool people around, you can’t be friends with all of them. This guy smelt like trouble from a mile away (amongst other distinct odours). My life did not need another “bad boy” to pull me off the rails. I was straight, clean and emotionally unavailable… he does have a cute smile though.

“Hello dear,” the receptionist waddled over to me, her glasses swung around her neck like the shackles of a slave. “Are you ready?”

This woman scares me. She always has. “Yup.” I responded shortly.

Will gave me a flat ‘well, good luck’ sort of smile as I picked up my bag and walked into the office. Farewell handsome stranger, ‘tis the last you’ll see of my hard-working ass.

 The Headmaster is a good guy. He’d given me more than my fair share of second chances. I like him. I like his style. Right now, he looked like crap though.

“There’s no easy way to say this, Megan…” he took off his glasses and looked me straight in the eyes, something he only does when it’s gut-wrenchingly serious. Fuck. He sighed deeply, “Your mother passed away this morning.”

“What the fuck, sir?”

I can’t describe the physical sensations that those words caused in enough detail for you understand how it felt. It was something like getting into a bath that was exactly the temperature of a human body, except incredibly intense and uncomfortable. It also felt as is my face had a migraine, like a dull tightness that caused some kind of slow panic along the spine.

“I’m sorry Megan. It was a car crash… I don’t know any more details than that” he paused, “We suggest you take the day off school to be with your family. Your Dad is collecting your siblings, he asked that you head home by yourself…”

A car crash? Shit. The bastard that hit her…

“Okay.” I said, “Is there anything else?”

There was a loaded pause.

“Um, excuse me?” He fumbled about, even so far as to look for a piece of paper on his desk. “No, no, that’s it.” He was so flustered, I would have found it sweet if I hadn’t been running my whole childhood through my mind. “Wou-Would you like someone t-tto take you home? I can organise a lift pr-probably?”

“That’s okay. Thank you for the offer,” my whole system was in shock and I was on autopilot. In hindsight I should have broken down and cried. But all I could think of was getting home, seeing my dad. Finding out what happened. And doing whatever it takes to make this feeling of loss and confusion go away…

I stood up and put my school bag over my shoulder.

“N-no problem.” He stammered. This man very rarely stammers. The gravity of his discomfort dragged my heals backwards.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sir, thank you for being sensitive.” I could hear the tension in my jaw. I felt very vulnerable, very emotionally exposed.

“No problem. I mean, of course.” He regained himself quickly. “If you need more time off or some teachers to send you notes from the lessons you’ve missed today, please let the school know.”

“Of course, sir, thank you.” I departed with what was almost a bow.

I returned to the waiting area with a stiff look of shell-shocked trauma.

Will looked up at me, I remember how much I wanted him to look away. He started to speak, to make some joke or something, I don’t even know what he said, I just walked out.

 The walk home felt too short. I thought of mum. The information didn’t seem real. It felt like a horrible horrible joke. I wanted to go home and find my mother in the kitchen, daytime drinking because her shifts are so fucked up it may as well be 7 o’clock for her.

One thing you need to understand about my mother is, well, she didn’t give a shit. She worked her ass off at the hospital every day and then came home and ran our family. When I showed up in the emergency room last year with a stomach full of hard liquor, she didn’t lose her shit for a second. She didn’t try and punish me or make me feel worse than I already felt about myself. She sat me down, she talked me through it and she convinced me I was worth… something. That I was loved. Not many parents are cool enough to do that. My mum earnt my respect that day. And now she’s gone? The concept felt wrong. So wrong. So twisted, fucked up and wrong.

I wanted to see her. I wanted to see Dad and hear him tell me it’s a false alarm. That they made a mistake. That mum was at the hospital rugby tackling a junkie with no idea anyone thinks anything different.

But I knew it wasn’t going to happen. It was over, it was done. There was nothing I could say to myself that would change the situation. I remember stopping and sitting on a bench for a couple of minutes and taking breaths. I felt like lighting up a cigarette for the first time in a long time. But I didn’t have one on me. So, I just sat. I sat, and I breathed, and I calmed myself down.

When I put my key in the door and turned it I remember feeling incredibly heavy. It was as if opening the door made it all real. Home was never going to feel the same again.

The first thing my twelve-year-old brother said to me was, “This is shit, Megan. This is pure shit.” He was holding my baby cousin in his arms pressing her to his chest and holding his hand over her ear as he swore. He was sniffing through tears and he was right. This was pure shit.

“Where’s Hopper?” I asked, “Where’s Dad?”

“Hopper’s upstairs in her room.” He nodded towards the staircase, “And Dad went out to get cigarettes.”

“What!?” I said, “Dad doesn’t smoke.”

My brother just shrugged and looked down at baby Moon, she was fast asleep.

“I’ll be right back, ok?” I held them both close to me and kissed him on the forehead.

I went upstairs. Hopper was curled up on her bed with her toys. Her eyes were closed, and she had my brother’s big black headphones on over her little blond head. She was weeping loudly. As I approached her I realised she had my mother’s teddy bear folded under her arms. The teddy bear was a gift from one of my mum’s boyfriends before you finally got together with my dad. She kept it and showed it to her kids. Many mothers wouldn’t do that. But mine did.

“Hopper.” I said as I nudged her shoulder as I sat down on the side of her bed. She had a soft pink shirt on that was already getting too small for her.

She opened her eyes and wailed a new wave of pain. She flung her arms around me and wept into my belly. Her tears and snot slowly soaked their way through my top. I stroked her hair and shushed her gently. How the hell was I supposed to deal with this? Normally when Hopper cries dad takes care of it. How could he leave them in the house alone at a time like this? What if I’d decided to get cigarettes? Who would be here for these three?

As she snuggled her face into me, George’s headphones fell off her. I heard a heavy beat coming from them. I pulled then to my ear.

“Hopper?” I asked concerned

“Ummhumm,” she muttered from my lap.

“Is this gangster rap you’re listening to?”

“G-George” she sniffed through tears, “George ga’h’ve it to. me.” A fresh stream of tears rolled out of her big gorgeous eyes, “Am I in tru-trouble?” She asked me sheepishly.

“No, of course you’re not,” I said softly, stroking her hair again, “If anyone’s in trouble it’s George. He may not be old enough to listen to that but you’re definitely not.” The after a pause I asked, “Do you like it?”

“I-I don’t know,” she said, sitting back on her bed, “It’s angry and it makes me feel safe. I don’t know what they’re saying. Sometimes bad things…”

“That sounds about right.” I guess when there’s so much emotion inside you, hearing anyone expressing anything feels cathartic. Where was my emotion? I felt heavy. I felt shocked. But I didn’t feel… loss. When and how was it going to hit me. When was I going to realised it wasn’t a dream?

George walked in with Moon, his face was sombre.

“I wanted to be with you two,” he said, “Is it ok?”

Hopper nodded. And made space on the pink bedcovers. Normally she hates having him or Moon in her room, but today things were different.

George passed me Moon while he climbed onto the bed.

“Shoes!” protested Hopper.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said as he slipped off his old dirty trainers and put them neatly next to each other by the door. Again, this kind of behaviour was very rare. George never listened to anything Hopper said and constantly crossed her boundaries to get some reaction. You don’t know the little shit, so it’s hard for me to express how much this whole thing changed him. But over the few days after mum died, George matured about six years. And this was the first sign.

Moon was gently sleeping in my arms. She had no clue, all she knew was that everyone was more quiet than usual. A strong smell wafted peacefully from her nappy.

“Can I hold her?” asked Hopper.

“She just pooped.” I said.

“What’s going to happen now?” She asked without any regard to my answer

“Honestly, I’m not sure guys.” I said, “We’ve going to wait until Dad gets home and decide what to do.”

“There isn’t anything to do, she’s gone.” Said George with eerie calmness.

“Well,” I said, “A lot of things are going to have to change.”

“Like what?”

“Um, I don’t know,” I reasoned, “Dad probably won’t be able to stay at home all day, he’ll need a job. I’ll probably need to get a job too. You guys will need to start doing more things for yourselves, like tidying your own rooms. And help keep the house tidy.”

“Do we still have to go to school?” asked George.

“Not today, for sure.” I replied and scruffed the top of his head up, “You two look after each other. I’m going downstairs to change Moon’s nappy and call Dad. Okay?”

I didn’t have the answers for my siblings, and my mind was far too overwhelmed to come up with distractions. Thinking was like wading through a swimming pool of tar in the dark. I needed some form of guidance and my first port of call was my dad.

Baby in one arm I scrolled through my contacts until I found him and hit the little phone symbol on my android. The phone rang. I tucked it into my shoulder as I grabbed a clean nappy and the changing blanket. Being the oldest of three with big enough age gaps to matter, I knew the routine backwards and forwards. That being said… it had been a while.

The phone stopped ringing, “Um. Hey, this is Mark. It’s the usual story, you can leave a message, but I never check my voice mail. Text me. Okay. Bye. Ffks”

I hung up before the beep. Really Dad? I thought, now’s the time to screen my calls?

Irritated, I put the phone down. And laid the sleeping baby out on the blanket. The movement woke her up and she slowly started to register the uncomfortable feeling in her nappy. I had to act fast. I gently removed her little pink trousers and rolled up her t-shirt. Yep, that was the smell of baby poop. I peeled off the soiled disposable diaper. She was only just moving to solids, and you could tell from the distinct texture of the shit she had gifted me with.

Why was a baby this young living away from its mother and father? You may ask. And the answer is a story for another time because, as I was scanning around the shamefully untidy kitchen looking for some wet wipes, the doorbell rang.

I ignored the first few rings as the baby’s crying grew louder and louder and I searched under the junk mail and groceries for something I could use to rid this world of my baby cousin’s latest creation. But then they started knocking, and I heard the words “Police, open up.” I nearly shit my own pants. Policemen still scared me.

Quickly washing my hands, I ran to the door. I opened it.

“Hello?” I said, somewhat aggressively so that they might catch the hint that it wasn’t a good time. It was a man and a woman with the classic blue attire but no hats. I never learnt what the hats meant, but I assumed these two were lower ranking since they had a uniform on.

The woman was shorter, in her thirties and had thin blond hair tucked into a neat bun. She had a kind face sympathetic expression. The man was average height and slightly underweight. He seemed like the kind of person who became a police officer because they got bullied a lot in school.

“Hello, Miss.” Said the woman, “We’re looking for Mr. Sherwin.”

That was my Dad.

“Me too,” I said smiling ironically, “can I see your badges?”

[carryonmyobscurialson-blog]

Choke

A/N: I have a Gradence one shot like usual but its not really angst or fluff. Its just a short little story about an angry Percival Graves lol. Enjoy!

Pairing: Original Percival Graves/Credence Barebone

Summary:  Percival finds out that Credence likes to be on the receiving end of a bit of a choking kink. When he tries to get to the root of the issue, he only ends up with more feelings than he bargained for. And so, he deals with it the best way Percival Graves knows how.

“Choke me.”

Percival stopped abruptly, still breathing hard into the base of Credence’s neck. He looked up at the boy, who was still heaving and panting with pleasure; his cheeks flushed with pink.

“What?”, Percival asked, unsure if he had heard right.

“Choke me, Percy.” Credence repeated, he angled his head so he could meet Percival’s gaze. “Please? Just a little.”

Percival bolted upright, scrambling off of Credence suddenly. His expression was incredulous.

“Why in God’s name would I do that?”

Credence stared back in equal confusion, “I’m sorry? You don’t have to, I guess. It was just a request.”

Percival raised an eyebrow at him -- the way the boy talked, it was as if he had asked a request as simple as cock sucking. It wasn’t that Percival wouldn’t do anything to please his boy. Credence should really know that by now.

It was more the fact that the boy had never requested anything quite so…violent.

“I, uh…I’m not sure you’d enjoy that,” Percival told him finally, saving the questions for what gave him such a god awful idea in the first place for later. Below the fabric of his pajama pants, his erection still throbbed surprisingly hard.

“I would.” Credence answered simply.

“Why?”

Credence seemed to hesitate, and Percival came to the conclusion on his own before the boy could speak again.

“You’ve been choked before.”

Credence flinched a little, confirming the theory.

Something angry woke in the pit of Percival’s chest, but he tried to quiet it for now. He mustn’t look angry, he knew that scaring the boy off would not be in anyone’s best interest.

Percival tried to put on his best interrogation room poker face as he asked, “Grindelwald?”

To his surprise, Credence shook his head.

Interesting.

Percival’s understanding was that Credence had never had any relationships outside of Grindelwald, himself, and his former family. He supposed it was entirely possible that there could have been someone else at one point or another, but still, he wouldn’t have found it likely. Credence, although he had blossomed in recent months, still seemed frequently naive and tentative…until now.

“Who, then?” Percival pressed the matter, noting that Credence wasn’t bothering to correct him after he had gotten it wrong.

Credence shook his head again, with a bit more emphasis this time.

“It’s…nothing. Really.” Credence sighed. The boy crept closer to Percival, trying to close the gap. He put a hand on Percival’s upper arm, rubbing circles on his shoulder in what Percival assumed was supposed to be a seductive manner, “Let’s just continue where we left off, yeah?”

Percival turned his head so that they were face to face. Credence looked eager to please, but it only exacerbated Percival’s suspicion that he was hiding some deep, dark secret. Percival grabbed the hand on his shoulder gently, pulled it down, and then gripped it firmly. Credence winced.

“Credence, who choked you?”

Suddenly, Credence yanked the hand away so abruptly that Percival’s surprise allowed him to let go. His dark eyes squinted in a sulky glare. “I should have known you’d react this way. Never mind, seriously Percy.”

Percival scoffed dramatically, “It’s hardly the kind of request people typically make, Credence! You can’t just expect me to skim over it!”

Credence pouted, clearly regretting he ever said anything and not enjoying the direction in which this was going.  

“Fine. Yes, I have been choked before during sex. And yes, I kind of liked it.”

“Who?”

“Why does it matter who?”

“Why are you deflecting?”

“I’m not.” Credence stated matter of factly, “There’s just…nothing anyone can do about it now. It happened years ago.”

“Years ago?!?” Percival repeated disbelievingly, gaping, “Credence, you’re barely 24! Exactly how many years ago was this?”

The eye contact dropped.

Credence didn’t seem to want to answer that, but Percival could tell from the conflicted expression that it had to be bad. The angry thing squirming around in his chest seemed to be getting harder and harder to quell. Percival’s hands curled into fists, gathering up bunches of the bedsheets on which they sat.

“Your mother?” Percival ventured, and Credence shook his head again.

Percival rolled his eyes, frustration overtaking him. Through gritted teeth, he hissed, “You know if I really wanted to find out what you’re hiding, I can do it with or without you telling me, right? There’s mind reading, there are truth serums… all sorts of ways. So you either tell me now, or I get it out of you the hard way.”

Credence’s eyes widened fearfully. Percival knew he wasn’t being fair, or even mature about this. It was his certainly his emotions talking for him. But as both of them have come to know, his possessiveness and protectiveness of the boy were nothing to be reckoned with.

Finally -- likely realizing that Percival meant every word -- Credence confessed, “It was a priest that volunteered at the church a lot… Ma’ was always kind of hot on him. He wasn’t hot on her though. He liked… kids. He first took me when I was maybe 11. Modesty, too. Sometimes, he’d get off on making me do things to her while he watch--”

“Stop.”

Percival interrupted Credence abruptly.

The angry thing in the pit of his chest had grown into a full-blown furious thing. He could already hear the sound of the windows around him cracking under the weight of uncontrollable, vengeful magic.

Percival had to get out.

Without another word to the boy, he got off the bed and stormed out of the room, slamming the bedroom door behind him. The moment he stepped into the sitting room just outside, damn near every glass or porcelain object surrounding him exploded.

Percival let out a carnal scream that somehow managed to muffle the sound of the breakage.

As the following days passed, Credence and Percival tried to resume business as usual.

After all, prior to their conversation, the relationship had been going quite well.

Credence had finally been allowed to find himself as a person, and his behaviors had only begun to reflect that of a normal adolescent. He seemed to begin to accept the fact that he had his own wants and desires, and sometimes it was okay to act selfishly on them.

Percival felt he had done a good job of encouraging that.

Until that conversation, Percival had believed that they had untangled much of the binds that tied him to his childhood traumas.

Yet after Credence’s odd little request, Percival began to see signs that the knot in those binds ran much, much deeper than he had previously thought.

“I just find it really hard to imagine you liking it,” Percival said over dinner one night, breaking what had been an otherwise rather awkward silence. While he wasn’t keen on bringing up subjects that might upset the boy, he was also very intent on finding answers to questions that now seemed to be nagging in the back of his mind 24/7.

Credence huffed, likely wishing he knew how to obliviate Percival’s memory of their discussion. He frowned as he ran a spoon through lukewarm tomato soup, “I don’t know. Honestly, he’d do it so hard that think I almost died a few times. It was… nice.”

“Nice?” Percival nearly spat out his own food. “Almost dying was nice?!? Is that what you fucking call it these days?”

Credence hummed and with an astounding air of nonchalance he explained, “Yeah. I mean… the times where I’d lose so much oxygen, I blacked out…I would get this floating sensation. And then there was a white light that wasn’t quite white. I’m not sure it was even a color. But it was beautiful, and it was warm and I… I guess I felt a little closer to God. I felt the same the night in New York. The night they tried to kill me.”

Guilt turned his stomach at Credence’s words. Thinking back, Percival grimaced, “And you wanted me to choke you because you want to experience that again?”

Credence nodded.

“Would you want someone to talk to about all this?” Percival proposed gently, “Maybe a therapist or a…”

“I’m not suicidal, Percy.” Credence stated bluntly, “I don’t want to die. I just want to, you know… almost die, I guess. I mean, he did bring me back every time.”

Percival chuckled darkly, “You say that like you’re disappointed.”

Credence swallowed down a spoonful of soup before he shrugged, “Sometimes, I was.”

About a week after that, Abernathy came to his office at around 7 AM looking shaken.

“Yes?” Percival growled at him over a canyon of piles of paperwork.

“Mr. Graves, sir, um, we believe there may have been unauthorized use of the..the execution room around 3 AM last night.”

Percival merely raised an eyebrow at him, “Oh?”

In true Abernathy fashion, the seemingly small reaction seemed to rattle him even more. He flinched as though Percival had screamed.

“Yes, um…still not sure how they got in,” Abernathy tiptoed closer the desk, and he set what looked to be jewelry on the corner of the hardwood surface, “That's all that was left behind.”

Percival picked the item up to examine it. Black rosary prayer beads speckled with blood glinted dimly in the office lighting.

“I’ll look into it. Thank you, Abernathy.”Percival hummed casually, putting the beads aside and bringing his attention back to the timesheets on his desk.

“Ye-yes sir,” Abernathy stuttered as he showed himself out, “T-thank you sir.”

The door shut closed with a loud click.

Percival threw the beads in the trash.

The memory of the old priests terrified expression, as Percival squeezed down hard on his decrepit throat, came to mind.

Percival remembered his final gasp for air before he went limp, and Percival remembered the satisfaction of watching the corpse drop into the acidic black potion below him, as the vile fiend was swallowed by death itself. The beads must have fallen off in the process.

Oh well.

As Percival scrawled his elegant signature on yet another time sheet, he smirked.

#credence barebone #percival graves #gradence #gravebone #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fbawtft