#we’re talking full just……. i got folded; essentially

[sunwarmed-ash]

WIP wednesday

i've been rebinging House so the next chapter of Plenty to go around is essentially done. Unless the muse gets something else finished first that'll probs be sundays update

here's a teaser for ch 5 👀😈 vvvv

slut!chase, daddy kink, top!house, chase/everyone fic

Chase is showered and on his way back to the sleep lab when he's met with two highly unexpected, early morning visitors. 

Foreman’s been able to save face, and ass, for about 15 minutes, but when Chase walks in with still-damp hair and a sizable limp House & Wilson put two and two together and get slut. 

Wilson looks pleasantly amused between the two young men, whereas House’s eyes threaten homicide. 

“Well, I’m glad to see we’re upholding the Princeton Plainsboro standard of care in my absence,” House spits.

“The patient's fine-” Chase starts to insist but House is quick to shut him down. 

“Not talking to you.” 

Chase flushes red and his jaw snaps close with a click of his teeth.  

“Someone left Chase hanging,” Foreman laughs, folding his arms across his chest, “figured it was my turn to lend a helping hand.” 

Chase thinks it's ballsy, talking back to House like that. Maybe a little too ballsy. Just because the team was independently fucking Chase didn't mean their pecking order changed. 

“You’re interfering with his punishment. How can the slut learn if you undermine my authority?”

Foreman and House continue to glare at each other like they were a couple of cowboys about to draw their weapons at a high noon standoff. Foreman’s the first to fire. 

“Your training must not be that good,” Foreman shrugs, “Got him to cum twice with the cage on anyway.”

Chase clears his throat to cover an unexpected moan. And then every bit of House’s fury is suddenly directed at Chase. 

“He did what?”

“I-” Chase’s entire body flushes hot. There was nothing he could say to deny it. “I'm sorry.” 

The edge of House’s mouth raises in a smirk but Chase knows from experience that doesn't mean anything good for him. 

“Oooo naughty boy. Now Daddy’s going to have to spank you.”

---

They’ve relocated to House's office. 

The blinds are drawn but the doors aren't locked and as soon as he can, House pushes Chase down across his desk, yanks down his pants, and slaps his exposed ass cheek hard. 

“Fuck!” Chase howls, hips thrusting against the desk in an effort to get away from the stinging pain. That doesn't last long though, because when it takes too long for another swat to come, Chase is pushing his ass backward and wordlessly begging for another. 

“Nope, not if you enjoy it. Defeats the point of punishment,” House says before pushing the tip of his forefinger past the puffy entrance of Chase’s asshole. 

“AH!” Chase hisses.

“You're pretty swollen, you sore?”

“Yes Daddy…” Chase pants, resting his face back against the desk’s surface. 

“How about now,” House asks before rotating his forefinger to find Chase’s prostate. He pushes hard against it and-

“Ah!” Chase hisses, “Yes, fuck, oh my god…” 

“Good. It’s going to get worse,” House warns before he pushes a second finger inside. 

“Fuck. Daddy please…” Chase cries. His hands fly across the desk, knocking everything to the ground in an effort to find something to hold onto. The sting in his ass hurts, but the ache in his cock and balls has him begging for this to continue. 

“House…” Wilson warns, misreading Chase's noise. Chase had honestly forgotten the man was there.

House huffs his own irritation the doctors way. 

“Chase? You good?”

“YES! Please, please,” Chase pants desperately, “I’m sore, but I want it. Don’t stop.”

“See Jimmy. Nothing to worry about.” 

House twists his fingers and rubs again at his oversensitive prostate, Chase’s knees tremble so hard that if it wasn't for House’s desk, he’d fall on the floor. 

“Fuck…Daddy…”

“What? You want to cum? You don't deserve to.”

“I know, I know, I'm sorry,” Chase sobs, but in some ways he's not. Everything hurts, but just the way he likes. He’s got House’s full attention on him, and when he gets jealous, his fucks get rougher. His desire to mark his claim gets stronger. And Chase loves when that side comes out. 

“Foreman didn't cum in you?” 

“No. But I wanted him to.”

Chase can practically hear House’s eyes roll. 

“Of course you did, you want everyone to cum in you.”

“Please,” Chase blubbers. 

“What are you willing to do for it?” House asks, and before Chase can answer, House’s cock is sliding inside him and Chase melts against the desk with a pitiful whimper. 

“Hey,” House says, slapping Chase's ass, “I asked you a question.”

“Anything,” Chase groans, ass clenching hard around the man’s cock.  

“Anything?” House confirms, dragging his dick back out before thrusting sharply back inside. “Keep the cage on, for say, 3 days?”

“Hhhn,” Chase whines instead of answering because House has started up a steady pace, holding Chase’s hips firm. The angle puts immense pressure on his prostate and Chase’s whimpers only get louder. The desk squeaks under the strain, but there’s no way in hell anyone will stop. 

“Chase.”

Chase's answer gets punched out of him with the force of House’s next thrusts.

“Yes!” 

“A week?”

Chase’s legs are having a hard time keeping up with the thrusts.

“Y-yeah...” 

“2 months?” 

House’s next thrusts are intentionally deep. Chase feels his sanity sizzle and fry.  

“Fuck… yeah, yeah I would. I would, please- just,” Chase groans, unable to finish the sentence the next jab to his prostate leaves him gasping. 

“Wilson, put your dick in his mouth. If he keeps moaning, someone's gonna walk in here.”

#chouse #chase x house #house x chase #house md #greg house #robert chase #james wilson #chilson #choreman #chameron #find me on ao3 #sunwarmed ash #links in pinned #i post new stuff every sunday #sinful sunday #wip wednesday

[atlanticcanada]

Popular restaurant, apartment buildings destroyed in Sackville, N.B., fire

With the smell of smoke still in the air, all that’s left of a historical building in Sackville, N.B., is a massive pile of rubble.

A major fire broke out Friday morning, completely destroying a popular restaurant and apartment buildings.

“It’s a sight and a feeling that we’ll probably never forget,” said Jenna Miller, a Mount Allison University student who is now without a home.

Miller lives with three other Mount Allison students. Their Good Friday started off with the smell of smoke, which Rachel Carson initially wrote off as their furnace. But when the smell got stronger, she knew it was something more serious.

“I got out of my room and looked to my left and Lucy’s room was full of smoke. So then all of us were like, ‘OK, we need to get out of here,’ and we just grabbed as much stuff as we could,” said Carson. “There was actually flames coming out of the side of our building to the point where it was actually hot on our arms when we were walking down that way.”

For the most part, the students grabbed laptops, cell phones and odds and ends, but Lauren Steele also made sure she was able to get her neighbour’s dogs out of the building.

“I knocked on the door and there was no one answering so I just opened the door and I knew she had two dogs so I grabbed the leash I saw at the door and I just got them out of there,” said Steele.

“You don’t want to leave anyone behind,” she said. “The stuff doesn’t matter, you can replace all of that.”

Sackville Fire and Rescue were called to the scene around 9:30 a.m. where officials say they were met with smoke and flames at the rear of the building.

“Within half an hour, fire started coming out of the top of the building and then I watched as the building came down, unfortunately,” said Municipality of Tantramar Mayor Andrew Black.

Fire crews from Dorchester, Point de Bute, Amherst and Memramcook all were called into assist.

“Listening to the firefighters afterwards just talking about that, saying unfortunately and fortunately it happened on Good Friday because there were firefighters around,” said Black. “It was a day off of work for a lot of people so they were able to be here, and we had, at one point, 60 firefighters on the ground.”

The fire resulted in a total loss, one that Municipality Councillor for Downtown Sackville Josh Goguen says will be felt by the entire community.

“If you talk to anyone who has either gone to Mount A or lived in Sackville, Joey’s has always been a staple in town and it’s definitely a huge loss for the community,” said Goguen.

“I’ve eaten [at Joey’s] many times from lunches to suppers to staff parties for my work, definitely it will be missed and hopefully they bounce back,” he added.

Right now, the cause of the fire is unknown and officials say the Fire Marshal is investigating.

Following the aftermath, the four roommates stood dressed in matching donated track pants and stared at what’s left of the apartment they’ve lived in for the last three years.

“It was just a crazy experience to see everything go up in flames,” said Miller. “We had no idea the severity of it until the day just continuously progressed.”

While there is definitely still some shock and disbelief, the four friends are thankful for the support of the community.

“Right away, everyone was trying to cover all our bases,” said Lucy Newman. “Like housing, clothing, food -- any possible thing that we weren’t even thinking of in the moment, there was someone who was trying to figure it out.”

“Even just students. At the chapel, they had a donation centre. Seeing students you’ve been in classes with folding clothes for us to go through, bringing food, seeing professors going to Moncton to get us stuff because it was Good Friday and it was obviously closed here, it was definitely a good feeling and we’re very grateful,” she added.

Mount Allison activated its emergency fund program to help with housing, essential services and donations. Following an outreach of support, clothing and personal items were donated quickly and now only monetary donations are needed.

“Being in a small town and just how small our school is and knowing how people are, I think we wouldn’t have expected anything less,” said Carson. “It’s just been really nice to see how supportive everybody’s been for us because this has been pretty stressful for the past few hours -- or day.”

A GoFundMe has also been set up to help support the four friends.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/BYmA9lQ

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

[dmwrites]

“Where on earth did you get a harmonica?”

Connor took his harmonica away from his mouth with mild annoyance. “You didn’t get your prison-issued harmonica when you got locked in here?”

The enderman guy in the next cell over, Ranboo he said his name was, looked taken aback, which was the biggest change in emotion Connor had seen from him. “No?”

“It was a joke man, don’t worry.” He didn’t want the guy to have a heart attack or something. “I hid it in my onesie. I mean, there’s no radio in here so I had to make do.”

“What was that song you were playing? It was really nice.” Ranboo still sounded kind of rough- he’d been crying on and off since Sam had brought him in yesterday.

“It’s- uh- it’s Mask Sus Remix.” Connor looked down at the harmonica and then up at Ranboo.

“Sounds interesting… is it a classical piece?”

“Uh… yeah, definitely.” Connor replied after a moment of silence. Ranboo nodded. Silence fell between them again. Connor wanted to pick up the harmonica and start playing again to mask the silence, like he had when Ranboo was crying, and even put the thing to his mouth, but lowered it again. “Hey, Ranboo?”

Ranboo looked at him, those red and green eyes so jarring to see. “Yeah?”

“Why are you in here? What the hell did you do?”

Ranboo laughed. Well, he gave a single, dry “ha!”, at least. “It’s a long story. What about you?”

“You clearly don’t understand how the exchange of information works, so I’m not telling you.” Connor folded his arms.

Ranboo shook his head. “Really, I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is that why you’re crying all the time?” Connor asked, figuring he might as well ask all the emotionally invasive questions now.

Ranboo shook his head, looking more and more distressed. He didn’t say anything, though, just turned away and pressed his shirt cuffs to his eyes.

“Sorry man, didn’t mean to upset you.” Connor said, mentally kicking himself. He put the harmonica to his lips again and began to play again, this time something a little more relevant. A song called “Folsom Prison Blues”, although still as incomprehensible as the last, as he’d only leaned to play a few days ago.

Time wasn’t dictated by clocks in prison. This wasn’t particularly new to Connor, the null of time, but it was still a weird feeling. The warden was their time god here, when he came with food. A full meal delivery passed before Ranboo spoke again.

“I just really miss my kid. And my husband.”

Connor had been drifting off on the floor, but sat up to look and listen. “You have a kid? And a husband? I didn’t know anyone was, like, able to form meaningful connections anymore on this server.”

Ranboo chuckled at that. “Yeah. Me, Tubbo, and Michael. I miss them a lot.”

Having come from nothingness, Connor couldn’t relate to the whole family thing, but it still was sweet to hear Ranboo speak so lovingly about them.”

“Hey man, it’s gonna be okay.” Connor wasn’t quite sure why he said it, but it felt like the right thing to do. “We’re gonna be okay.”

The prison alarms were still blaring when Ranboo was slaughtered in front of the prison. Connor watched his body collapse to the ground like a puppet that’s had its strings cut.

Connor heard Technoblade’s yell, the gasps from the crowd. It was the middle of the day, blinding hot and hostile. His now dirty onesie stuck to him like a second skin. And he watched Ranboo die.

He slid into the ranks of the gathered crowd of locals like he has always been there, and no one even gave him a second glance. So forgettable he might as well have just been there the whole time, that’s who Connor was.

He watched the place where Ranboo’s body had fallen for a long time after the crowds had left. He was mildly sad, as one would be for who, in all reality, was essentially a stranger. But it was the husband and the kid that he couldn’t stop thinking about. Even that much love wasn’t enough to stop a blade.

Connor dug a small hole in the bloody sand and buried the harmonica. An unfair grave for an unfair death.

#March 4 2022 #fic #dsmp #connoreatspants #ranboo #long post #rejoice! c!connor be upon you

[free-pool-trash]

dancing with our hands tied - peter maximoff

here it is you guys... the ✨very spicy✨ sequel to delicate which can be read here <3 (had to keep the rep song title theme going here)

please for the love of god let me know how this is I’ve never written smut before so please go crazy with the asks/comments/reblogs on this one I’d really appreciate it😩😓

word count: 4k 😳 (it’s not all smut dont get too excited)

warnings: +18 content, sexy times, unprotected wrap it before you tap it, swearing, i tried to keep vulgarity on a low level but i decided to just commit towards the end lmao, insinuation to sex from the beginning , some fluff and a tiny bit of angst sprinkled in there too, wandavision spoilers

You can definitely read this as a stand alone but it’ll make more sense if you read delicate first !! enjoy <3

masterlist

The days you spent in WestView had been tiring. Wanda seemed to be losing her composure with each day that passed, you watched how she became more and more skeptical of Peter and found yourself growing all the more anxious with the situation you’d run head first into. But, you were with Peter, your mind and his mind were free of Wanda’s influence and she’d been kind enough to appoint the pair of you your own house in the neighbourhood, a few doors down from her own, so, you couldn’t complain too much.

Today was a relatively quiet day, but you had a feeling that just meant you were in the calm before the storm. Tonight was, apparently, Halloween. Despite the fact that it was nowhere near October, you were more than happy to play along with Wanda’s over the top festivities.

Peter and Tommy had just zoomed into your and Peter’s bedroom, sporting matching outfits and excited expressions as they looked at you expectantly, “Well? What’d ya think?” Peter asked, motioning between himself and Tommy. The littlest speedster awaited your answer with wide, hopeful eyes, wanting validation from his cool uncle’s even cooler ‘friend’.

Yeah, you’d made out on Wanda’s couch but you still hadn’t addressed the question of where exactly your relationship stood. It felt as though the pair of you were both actively avoiding the awkward conversation, opting instead to simply fall into bed together every single night and completely disregard the boundaries of friendship in favour of hearing each other moaning until the early hours of the morning.

With a smile you let out a low whistle, “Looking good boys. I gotta say, Tommy, I think you’re outshining your uncle right now.”

You had to laugh when Tommy smirked triumphantly at Peter, “I told you she liked me more than you.” He boasted proudly and your laughs grew louder when Peter huffed angrily. He crossed his arms over his chest and jutted his bottom lip out childishly.

“Y/n, tell him you like me more.” Peter demanded, again, childishly.

You only grinned, “No comment.” You told him airily, making your way to your closet and hesitantly pulling out the latex costume Wanda created for you off of the rail, holding it by the hanger skeptically.

It was Peter’s turn to let out a whistle when his eyes scanned the skimpy looking leotard suspended by the hanger. The fabric mimicked the design of Peter and Tommy’s outfits although it seemed Wanda had gone out of her way to make yours ever so slightly sexier. The leotard was strapless with a sweetheart neckline and a silver lightning bolt ran through the light blue material. The only saving grace was the silver tights that hung from the hanger as well, at least you’d have some kind coverage. With one last peek into the closet, your eyes landed on a pair of white, knee high gogo boots.

“Christ…” You muttered, eyebrows furrowing at the thought of wearing the ensemble out in public, if it was cold tonight Wanda would be in for an aggressive telling off. With a deep sigh you turned to the two speedsters who were both staring at you, waiting for you to say something. “I guess we’re all gonna be matching tonight.”

“Sweet!” Tommy exclaimed while Peter only smirked. Peter, with a lot of effort, moved his attention from your costume to his nephew.

“Why don’t you go hang out with your brother for a while? I gotta talk to Y/n for a sec.” Tommy welcomed the suggestion, only nodding his head before he had sped out of your house and back to his own.

A gust of wind hit your face as Peter sped himself in front of you, the man didn’t hide his intentions as he gripped your hips and pulled you flush against him. Swaying his body against yours and bringing his lips to the exposed skin of your neck. He trailed his lips up your neck, sucking and nipping, smirking when you let out small noises of approval. When his lips reached the spot behind your ear, he gave a final, harsh suck which had your breath hitching and whining when he pulled away.

To be honest, you’d love to be able to call him your boyfriend and be certain that he thought of you as his girlfriend, but at the moment you were perfectly happy with whatever the fuck the two of you had going on if it meant you could keep feeling him against you like this.

“I cannot wait to see you wearing that.” He all but groaned against your ear, his voice deep and gravelly. The butterflies in your stomach went feral at his words and you had to pull your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from letting out a moan from his tone of voice alone, not to mention the fact that his crotch was pressed up against yours, he was excited to say the least.

Your hands slid up his chest and settled on either side of Peter’s neck, you gently pulled his head out from the crook of your nape and teasingly raised an eyebrow at him, “Maybe later I’ll let you help me get out of it.”

A wicked grin spread across his lips, he squeezed your hips in response, tugging you into him even further for some kind of relief then pressed his lips to yours briefly, murmuring against them, “That’s definitely a plan I can get behind.”

Giving him one last kiss, you pried his hands from your hips and pushed him away, “Alright, get lost I need to get ready.”

“Meet me at Wanda’s?” You nodded at his question, letting out a deep sigh you hadn’t noticed you’d been holding when he finally sped out of the room.

After a second of cooling down, you pulled on the outfit and you’d be the first to admit; Wanda knew what she was doing with this one. You looked incredible, albeit a little stupid in the costume, but still incredible.

When you made your way over to Wanda’s to meet up with the others, you let out a laugh seeing as Wanda was essentially wearing the same outfit as you, only with the added extras of a cape and gloves.

“Hey! Why are you dressed the same as Uncle P and Tommy?” Billy asked you curiously, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he glanced between you and Peter for answers. The speedster in question was smirking proudly, his arm finding a spot wrapped around your shoulder.

“Because she’s totally obsessed with me.” He lied with an over dramatic sigh, causing Tommy to laugh.

You rolled your eyes, elbowing him in the ribs playfully before focusing your attention onto Wanda, “I think it’s safe to say that Wanda and I will be winning best couples costume.” Wanda gave you a knowing grin and a not at all subtle wink in response to your statement.

“Only the best for the best.” She replied, walking forward and linking her arm with yours, stealing you away from Peter who whined in protest, “Oh hush, you can have her back later.”

Telepathy definitely had its perks, one of those perks being you could tell there was more to Wanda than just being an evil puppeteer. The two of you got along extremely well, you were actually growing to see her as a friend. It helped that you knew her story, though. You sympathised with her, knowing full well that if you lost the love of your life you’d probably create a false reality to be with him too. You’d already followed him into a fake reality so you supposed it wasn’t really too much of a stretch to imagine yourself in Wanda’s position.

As the night went on, yourself, Wanda and Peter were sitting around in town square, the twins having run off somewhere. Tensions were high between the interreality siblings at the minute, Peter seemed to be having the time of his life getting on Wanda’s last nerve, poking and prodding at her lifestyle choices.

“Lay off, Pete.” You warned quietly, your stare serious as you felt Wanda becoming impatient with the mutant. Your breathing stopped for a moment and you let put a horrified gasp, your hand clapped over your mouth as you stared at the image in front of you.

Peter’s skin was grey, his eyes were milky and he was littered in what you could only assume to be bullet holes- he was dead- no, you realised as you caught Wanda’s pained expression, he was Pietro.

Wanda regained her composure after a few seconds but the sight of Peter dead was enough to shake you to your very core and you found yourself shaking where you stood.

You didn’t even have a chance to regain your composure before shit had hit the fan. It had happened in a blur, Billy and Tommy were frantic and worried about Vision being in trouble and next thing you knew Wanda was sending Peter flying with a ball of energy after he made a smartass comment about Vision not dying twice.

Quickly, you ran to Peter’s side, he was groaning in pain and looking up at you through squinted eyes, “What the hell was that all about?” He grumbled, hiding his head in your lap when you got down on your knees beside him.

With a sigh you let your body fold against his, wrapping your arms around him and letting your head rest against his shoulder, the image of him bleeding out still too fresh and real in your mind. You could berate him for his brash behaviour another time, for now though; you just needed him close.

“Come on, dumbass. Let’s get you home before you decide to cause more trouble.” You mumbled, pulling him up with you. Ignoring his whining while you led him home, your arm remained firmly around his waist the whole way despite the fact he’d recovered from the blast Wanda dealt him after only a few minutes.

When you got back to the house that Wanda had deemed yours upon your arrival, you finally allowed yourself to breathe. Peter was staring at you with a guilty expression as you released a heavy breath through your nose and shuffled into the kitchen, the heels of your boots scraping on the hardwood as you walked.

Like a lost puppy, Peter followed you. Once he reached you lent against the sink he wrapped his arms around you from behind. He knew you weren’t angry at him by the way your arms immediately moved to grip his and tug them tighter around you.

“You know, her real twin- Pietro… he died,” Peter’s face contorted in confusion when you began to speak, he listened with concern as he could already hear your voice beginning to shake, absentmindedly he caught himself tucking you closer against his chest. “For a second… you must have said something that hit a nerve but for a few seconds…” Your voice hitched and you shook your head in an attempt to knock the image out of your mind, though you had a feeling it would haunt you for as long as you lived. When Peter noticed you’d started chewing at your bottom lip, as you always did when something was causing you anxiety, he gently turned you around in his arms so that he could look at you, his arms remaining firmly around you, yours finding a place resting against his chest.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He cooed, his eyes very much alive and staring into yours.

Swallowing thickly you answered, “You looked like him. You were dead.” You told him quietly and he was sure the look of grief on your face, brought on by the thought of him dying, would haunt him for a lifetime.

Your eyes watered as you took in his face. Scanning every part of it, his brown eyes that made you melt, the dimples that could still be faintly seen even when he wasn’t smiling, the lips that took up the vast majority of your thoughts and that tiny furrow between his brows as he looked down at you with worry.

You loved him.

Of course, you’d known this for years. But you needed him to know, and even though you were already well aware the overwhelming feeling is mutual, you needed to hear him say it.

His thumb running under your eye pulled you from your thoughts, “I’m not going anywhere, baby.” He whispered softly, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb ran back and forth over your cheek bone. Your stomach flipped at the pet name and you nuzzled against his touch.

“Good. I don’t want to lose you ever again.” You confessed, looking up at him through your lashes fondly as his lips formed an almost sad smile.

Gently, he brought his lips down to meet yours, pouring his heart into the kiss, hoping it would make up for the turmoil he felt responsible for causing you. Too soon, he pulled away.

“Believe me, I’m never leaving your side. I mean come on, I’m without you for like three days and I end up being mind controlled by my sister who isn’t even my sister.” He chuckled out, a grin growing on his face as you began to smile too. He let his eyes close blissfully when you brushed your nose against his, a toothy smile on your face.

“You, Peter Maximoff, are completely hopeless.” You whispered through your smile as he opened his eyes to look at you. His own face sporting an adoring smile.

Your heart skipped a beat the second his next words passed through his smiling lips, “Without you, Y/n L/n, yes I am.” Within a second your arms were around his shoulders and your lips were moving frantically against his. Peter’s hands wasted no time in sliding down to your thighs, gripping them and propping you up onto the kitchen counter.

Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist and your hands got lost in his hair, keeping him as close as humanly possible while his lips migrated to your jaw.

An appreciative hum left your throat as he lapped at the underside of your jaw, leaving a mark before trailing his lips back to your mouth. His tongue licked at your bottom lip as he kissed you, moving it into your mouth the first chance he got. Peter moaned into your mouth when you gave his tongue a light suck.

You grinned at the sound and leaned your weight forward so you were primarily resting against his body, your arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body, your ass barely resting on the counter by that point. Welcoming your movements, Peter’s hands glided up from your thighs to grip your ass and pull you from the counter completely.

He carried you clumsily through the halls of the house, bumping into furniture and pausing to press your body against walls, his eyes closed and lips never separating from yours. You were about a foot away from the stairs when you felt your back make contact with the plaster behind you, your chest heaving when Peter abandoned your lips in favour of littering wet kisses across your chest, no doubt leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake.

You let your head fall back against the wall, enjoying the sensation of Peter nipping and licking at your skin, the man diving back to your neck as soon as he realised that your head thrown back made it entirely exposed to him. You released a breathy moan when his lips ghosted over a sensitive patch of skin, he moved his tongue frantically and you shuddered at the feeling of his hot breath hitting your bruised skin.

“Peter…” You whined when he pushed his crotch up against yours, pressing you further into the wall smirking against your neck when you called his name.

“Yes?” He asked teasingly, rutting his hips against yours once more, deliberately attempting to pull another moan from you, he obviously succeeded. His smirk broadened when you let out a huff and tugged his hair so he’d look at you.

Peter swore he was in heaven when his eyes met yours again, your face was red and your eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown wide with lust as your chest heaved. He could’ve exploded on the spot when you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth and looked at him innocently, all the while grinding your hips slowly and firmly against his. Peter clenched his jaw and let his eyes fall shut, his hands gripping your hips so tightly that you were pretty certain the area would have bruises come tomorrow. You were struggling to care about that though, focusing your energy on the man who had you pinned against the wall.

You brought your lips to Peter’s neck, repaying the favour, not detaching until you left a dark, albeit small, purple bruise on the underside of his jaw. Deciding to prolong the teasing for a little while longer you moved your lips up and let them hover by his ear and you began to let out soft little moans in response to his grinding, the action caused Peter’s movements to become more frantic and your lips to form in a smirk as you felt him hardening against you.

His breath was laboured when he murmured, “Let’s take this upstairs, yeah?” Before you could even answer he had sped the pair of you to the bedroom and you let your feet return to the floor.

As he stood in front of you, you took him in, swollen lips and Halloween hair completely tossed, not to mention the tent in his trousers that was very visible despite the layers of his costume. When your bodies collided again, it was a frenzy of hands, the both of you practically tearing the fabric off the other until you were in nothing but your underwear, kissing sloppily and stumbling towards the bed.

Peter’s lips attached to your chest again the second your back hit the mattress. He groped at your right breast while his tongue sucked on the other, swapping over before you pulled him back up to you.

The way he slotted between your legs and how his forehead rested on yours felt so perfect, you couldn’t help but grin.

“You’re gorgeous, sweetheart.” He muttered between kisses against your lips, his hands kneading your breasts as he did.

You were practically dripping by the time his hand slid down your stomach and under the band of your underwear. For someone with super speed he was moving agonisingly slow at the moment, his hand rubbing languidly over your wet core while he swallowed your moans.

“Fuck- God, Peter please.” You whined, your hips bucking into his hand, desperate for more friction than he was giving you.

The sound of your voice, so needy for him, was all he needed before he was pulling your underwear off, tossing the thin material over his shoulder haphazardly and shimmying out of his own boxers, clumsily kicking them away from his ankles, earning a giggle from you.

When he kneeled on the bed between your bent and separated knees you sat yourself up, sliding one hand up his bare chest and resting it against his shoulder while the other slid downward, only stopping once it was wrapped around his shaft. Peter sucked in a harsh breath when your began pumping him softly, the man completely losing it when your thumb swiped over his tip collecting the precum that had gathered and using it to wet the length of his dick as you continued to fuck him with your hand.

As much as Peter was loving the image and feeling of you jacking him off, he knew if you carried on he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. Still, he didn’t have the heart to pull your hand away when you were making him feel so good. His head found it’s favourite spot in the crook of your neck and he groaned out against the skin that was littered with little purple and red marks from his earlier work, which he’d be sure to admire later, “Shit, Y/n-“ He croaked through a moan, hands gripping your hips as he fought the urge he had to thrust into your hand, “M’not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that.” He groaned out, almost reluctantly, not truly wanting you to stop while simultaneously craving more.

You stopped your motions at his statement, giggling when he let out a strangled noise of disappointment at the sudden lack of pleasure. Doing the honours, you lined him up with your entrance, letting him take over when his lips connected with yours.

Peter gently pushed you back until your head was resting against your pillow and your back was flush with the mattress. His lips continued to mesh with yours as he pushed into you inch by inch until he bottomed out. The deep groan he released was music to your ears and your hands gripped his biceps when he began to thrust in and out.

A symphony of moans filled the room as Peter had managed to set a steady pace, trying his best not to let his mutation get the best of him, as much as he wanted to just go to town he was determined to make you feel as good as you made him feel and judging by the way your head was thrown back and his name fell from your lips like a prayer; he guessed he was doing an okay job.

In only a few minutes Peter had you gasping and clutching onto him like your life depended on it as he picked up speed, one of his hands reaching down between your bodies to rub your clit, his hips snapping against yours. Soon enough, you felt the pressure in your stomach release, your walls clenching around Peter’s dick as your back arched and you released around him. After only a few more staggered strokes, Peter moaned your name against your lips, finishing inside of you and thrusting lazily, riding out his high and subsequently helping you ride out yours.

You let out a blissful sigh when Peter pulled out and rolled over to lay on his back beside you, his chest heavy and his blonde hair sticking slightly against his forehead.

“That- that was awesome.” He mumbled, intertwining his fingers with yours, holding your hand by his side.

Over the last couple of nights you and Peter had, admittedly, ended up in a similar position but neither of you intended for it to happen. It’d usually start off innocently enough, with cuddling or just talking and then one of you would move in just that little bit closer and things would escalate. But there was something about this time that felt a lot more emotional than the few times before. “It was.” You agreed with an airy giggle, squeezing his hand affectionately.

A gust of air shook you from your haze. Peter had taken it upon himself to clean up the mess the pair of you had left between your legs, a pair of his boxers and one of his t-shirts now adorned your body matching him as he wore the same.

He was on his side facing you, his arms holding you against his chest securely the same way they had the night you’d shown up in WestView and urged him to kiss you. When he took you in, he kicked himself for missing out on so much of you for so long.

He was certain, one of these days he’d actually speak the three words that followed him around whenever he thought about you, but as he watched your eyes flutter closed, he decided the words would be best spoken some other time. He was well aware you already knew, just as he was well aware that you loved him, it needed to be said. Eventually, but not quite yet.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff imagine #wandavision x reader #wandavision spoilers #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader

[angryschnauzer]

He’s A Keeper

Summary: Working as an artist hired by Durrell Zoo, you spend your days sketching the day to day life of the animals and the keepers. One keeper in particular catches your eye.

Pairing: AU Zookeeper Henry Cavill x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned)

Fandom: Henry Cavill

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Fingering, Safe Sex/Use of Condoms, Realistic Sex/Relationship discussion, Vaginal Sex.

Typo’s are allowed to run wild and free, only the finest organic free range fuck ups for me.

I do not operate a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and hit ‘notifications’, you’ll get an alert every time i post something new. Back catalogue/masterlist can be found there and also on AO3

He’s A Keeper

Working the pencils over the sketchpad you quietly captured the beauty of the animals the zookeepers had nursed back to full health, the Ruffed Lemur currently hanging off the keepers arm as he spoke through the headset to the group of excited school children watching through the glass. 

You’d been hired by the zoo to capture day to day life at the zoo throughout the summer season, drawing the animals and the humans, however there was one particular human you had found yourself drawn to numerous times, and that was the rather tasty zookeeper by the name of Henry. He also had one of the sexiest voices you’d ever had the pleasure to listen to, so as he explained about the Lemur’s your mind wandered, as did your gaze;

“... originally from Madagascar, and have been part of Durrell zoo since 1982 where they have been essential to the breeding program…”

Your mind fell even further into the gutter at the word ‘breeding’, your eyes raking down Henry’s body, taking in how the branded t-shirt clung to his chest before tapering down to a narrow waist where it was neatly tucked into cargo pants that did little to hide how thick his thighs were and a pert arse you could bounce a satsuma off of. Biting the end of the pencil you had all but given up drawing, only realising that the talk was over when the group of school children were being herded onto the next exhibit by their tour guide and teachers.

When the kids had disappeared you finally got back to drawing, watching as Henry finished up feeding the Lemur’s before he met your gaze and smiled at you. Tapping your pencil on the glass he frowned and shook his head, before smiling and pointing to the sign in the corner of the window that said ‘do not tap the glass’, getting closer you tried to mouth your words to him, but was surprised when his eyes went wide in almost shock, before looking down and realising you had pressed your chest to the glass, your low cut cami top helping to accentuate your cleavage. When you looked up again he was gone and you let out a sigh of disappointment, before he appeared through a door to the side of the viewing area;

“Hi” he had a smile that could charm the panties off a nun; “Did you want me?”

“God yes…” Oh fuck, did you say that out loud?; “Sorry, i mean, you’ve dropped the foam bit off your headset...”

He glanced into the enclosure just at the moment one of the larger Lemur’s picked up the small round piece of foam and staring straight at Henry, proceeded to rip it into tiny pieces.

“Furry little fucker…” he cursed under his breath before turning back to you, but before he could say anything a group of other keepers came walking in and soon you were hanging onto the periphery of their conversation where they were discussing going for drinks after work. Moving to pack your stuff up as you presumed they weren’t including you, but a call of your nickname drew your attention;

“Hey Da Vinci, you up for a few beers after work?”

You hesitated to answer, glancing at Henry who had a smile across his face and a hopeful look in his eye;

“We’re all going…”

“Ok, yeah sure, that’d be great” you agreed. 

-

An hour later you were sitting on the wall outside the main entrance waiting for the rest of the keepers to finish their shifts, smiling as you saw them coming out of the doors, and the ensuing 10 minutes that followed as people sorted out who was driving and how many people could fit into just a couple of small cars. As spaces were allocated Henry laughed and shook his head;

“I am NOT riding five up in a Renault Clio, i’m too tall, i’ll have to fold myself in half! Where are we going anyway, i can take my bike and just walk home after”

Waiting as everyone discussed location and finished off seat allocation, they’d finally decided when Henry turned to you;

“Hey, i think the last seats are in the stoner wagon…”

“Oh…” you didn’t have anything against anyone smoking pot, but didn’t fancy being in a car you could barely see out of the windows of.

“But you can ride with me on my bike?”

Looking to where Henry was pointing, you saw a fairly large trails bike, the kind that could go 50mph over rough land and through forests;

“I… I don’t have a helmet…”

“Wait here, let me run into the locker room and grab the spare i keep here”

Everyone else pulled away as Henry ran into the zoo, and you glanced at the bike. You’d never been on a motorbike before, so this would be a first. Stowing everything loose in your backpack, you hooked it over both shoulders just as Henry reemerged from the building, swinging his keys from one finger as he came to stand in front of you;

“Hey, thanks for waiting”

“No worries! So, where are we going again?”

“The pub in Rozel does good food and pulls a great pint” he nodded to his left and you saw a row of motorbikes; “You ever ridden?”

Shaking your head you laughed; “No, never”

He carefully helped you put the helmet on, his nimble fingers helping to secure the strap beneath your chin before putting his own on and climbing onto the bike, pushing it off the kick stand and nodding for you to climb on. You tried to sit back, but he wrapped his arm behind his back and pulled you flush to his body;

“Gotta hold on tight, otherwise you’ll throw the balance off. Lean when i lean and just squeeze a bit harder if you’re scared, the ride won’t take long” he shouted over the thrum of the noisy engine idling.

The ride down to the small village of Rozel had been exhilarating, from the vibration of the motorbike between your legs to the way you were able to wrap your arms around Henry’s waist and cling to him as he hurtled around the country roads at what seemed like warp speed, when in fact it was little more than 30mph. By the time you arrived in the small fishing cove your heart was racing and you actually let out a reluctant moan at the thought of removing your arms from around Henry’s waist.

“C’mon” he grinned as he helped you off the bike; “I’ll buy you a vodka and coke to calm your nerves”

“It wasn’t nerves” you muttered to yourself, smirking as you know he heard you.

-

The group had managed to find a cluster of small tables chairs and benches in the corner of the pub beer garden, and as the sun had set behind the hills to the rear of the pub, the cold Atlantic sea had glowed in pale blues and pinks. You were squashed into a bench with Henry on one side and another enormous hulk of a keeper on the other, and as the temperature had dropped you’d found yourself thankful that Henry had casually rested his arm behind you so you could leech some of his warmth, but it didn’t stop a violent shiver involuntarily running up your spine.

“Cold?” Henry asked quietly, before gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close; “Any better?”

You nodded and let out a very quiet whine as you smiled at him, completely surrounded by his scent and warmth. It made your stomach do a flip and you clenched your thighs together, something that didn’t get past Henry as your leg twitched against his thigh. Before either of you could say anything an enormous bowl of cheesy fries was set down between you, your stomach growling at the aroma’s that wafted around you as it turned out someone had ordered sharing bowls for the whole table.

With the meal mostly devoured as you’d sat side by side on a small wooden bench in the pub garden, laughing as you fed each other and strings of cheese hung from your fingers. As the giggles of a joke faded away you glanced at Henry’s almost finished pint;

“Hey, you aren’t planning on riding that bike home are you?”

“Nah, i’d never drive after a pint, let alone three… my place is just behind The Navigator restaurant…” he paused; “Oh god, where are you staying, do i need to call you a taxi?”

“No no, i’m renting a studio up the hill, on the hairpin bend”

“Oh…” 

It wasn’t a bad ‘oh’ and there was definitely something loaded in the subtext, so when people had started to leave and arrange ride’s back to St Helier and St Johns it felt natural for Henry to stand with his arm around your shoulders as you both waved everyone off.

“Can i walk you home?” he asked, his voice low and full of promise, and you nodded as he slid his hand into yours, leading you along the low coast road that skirted the harbour.

-

You hadn’t gotten far before the evening turned even better, a brief suggestion of a walk along the beach as the tide was out soon had your feet in soft sand as you were pressed to the weathered stone of the sea wall, Henry’s lips on your neck as your fingers dug into his back, his teeth nipping and biting at whatever exposed flesh he could find. You hadn’t even realised he was going lower until he was on his knees in front of you, those sea blue irises staring up at you as he pressed kisses to your legs where your shorts ended. His fingers softly rested on the button and he finally spoke, his voice low and thick with lust;

“May i?”

Nodding fervently you bit your lip as you watched him slowly unbutton you, pulling the garment down your legs until you were able to step out. Never breaking eye contact he lifted your leg and gently rested it on his shoulder, pressing open mouthed kisses up your inner thigh until his face was pressed against your panties and his wide tongue worked against the soaked cotton and lace. His finger crooked beneath them and tugged the scrap of fabric to the side, seeking out your clit before tracing down to your cunt and tenderly teasing the entrance.

“Henry… please…” you whined, desperate for more

“Don’t you worry, i’m gonna make you see stars…”

Pushing his head forwards his lips caught your clit as he slowly slid two fingers into your soaked channel. You let out a long groan at the feel of his lips and fingers finding the right spot immediately, his other hand cupping the back of your thigh before he ran it around your hip and caught your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he quickly drove you closer and closer to the edge with that added touch of intimacy. Suddenly he hummed against your clit and the world exploded, making you cum so hard you truly did see stars as a white heat bloomed in your belly and you rode Henry’s fingers until you were spent.

As you rested against the wall behind you he carefully withdrew his fingers, licking them clean as he tugged your shorts up your legs. You couldn’t help but to notice the obscene bulge in the front of his cargo pants, your hand rubbing over the smooth curve of it;

“You keep doing that and i’ll cum in my boxers… “ he panted out, his lips inches from yours; “What’s your room like?”

“Its a little summer cabin studio right at the end of the garden, away from the other holiday rentals and the main house… what about you…”

“Shared flat with two other guys from the zoo. They’re probably drinking in the lounge right now… so, your place?”

-

Unlocking the door you stepped inside and turned on a small lamp, standing aside so Henry could come into your small summer living space.

“Mmm nice” he nodded and looked around; “Wanna give me the tour?”

You snorted out a laugh at the formality, and held your arm out;

“Well this is the kitchen area, right next door we have the smallest shower room in Jersey, and here’s the bed” you didn’t need to take a single step for the ‘tour’, the room seeming even smaller as Henry took a single stride and wrapped his arm around your back, pulling you flush with his chest. Never breaking eye contact he gently trailed a single finger over your cheek, his thumb brushing your plump bottom lip;

“Are you going to be good for me?”

Your legs almost buckled at the deep baritone of his voice, igniting something within you that you hadn’t even known existed, eagerly nodding;

“Yes Sir”

Lowering his lips to yours he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips as he took control, walking the pair of you back until your legs hit the bed and you fell back onto the soft unmade covers. Covering your body with his, he quickly stripped you of your clothing, his mouth trailing behind his hands so every inch of you was gifted with a kiss. 

Standing between your legs he pulled his t-shirt over his head and you couldn’t help but to moan at the sight of his body; toned and just the right amount of hair on his chest and a treasure trail on his abdomen that surely led to untold riches. Quickly sitting up your hands joined his on his button to his cargo pants;

“May i?”

Henry released his hands and nodded, watching as you carefully plucked the button before lowering the zipper painfully slowly, his boxers tented obscenely and you couldn’t help but to cup him in your palm, the searing heat of his engorged cock a welcome feel in your hands, the wide mushroom head clearly visible through the stretched fabric. Unceremoniously tugging the rest of his clothing down, you felt yourself getting wetter as his beautiful cock was finally revealed; big, thick and uncut, you had to taste him and quickly ducked your head forwards, swallowing his head between your lips as his hands flew to your hair to steady himself.

Now it was your turn to drive him crazy with your mouth, taking him as deep as you could even though it was barely half of his length, you wrapped both hands around what was left, the thick root of his shaft filling both palms. A few more pumps and he pulled his hips back with a gasp, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his bulbous tip;

“If you keep doing that i’m gonna cum far too soon…” he said, his voice shaking; “Lay back and let me treat you right…”

Scooting up the bed you settled against the pillows as you watched Henry shed himself of the rest of his clothing, his boots and socks hooked off, cargo pants and underwear all left in a messy pile at the side of the bed, before he crawled up the mattress like a Panther stalking its prey.

Capturing your lips for another searing kiss, you felt his hot shaft against your belly, burning against your skin and you so desperately wanted to feel him inside you. Pulling away just slightly you were already breathless;

“Just a second…” reaching for the small drawer at side of the bed you pulled out an unopened box of condoms, Henry sitting back on his knees as you ripped the box’s cellophane open with your teeth and pulled out a small foil packet, tearing it open before smoothing the latex over Henry’s shaft. Looking up to his face he wore a rather sheepish smile;

“Sorry, shoulda’ thought of that”

“S’ok, a girl’s gotta keep sharp these days…”

“Right…” he met your gaze; “But you know, if you had gotten pregnant, i would have stood by you”

“Umm thanks? But its for STD’s. I’m on the pill”

“Oh… good thinking…”

A tense pause hung over the pair of you, before you reached up and rested your hand on his chest;

“Shall we continue?”

At your words the tension in the room suddenly dissipated, Henry kissing you as he slid a hand between your bodies so he could position himself at your entrance, groaning as he pushed in slowly breaching your body. Your tight channel hugged him tight, unfamiliar with such a size splitting your walls so he paused, pressing light kisses to your face as your body grew accustomed with his size and the heavy weight of his dick in your pillowy soft embrace. Finally you moaned out his name;

“Henry… please…”

“What do you need?”

“Move… please move. Fuck me, please”

Pushing up on his forearms he started to fluidly move his hips, slow and steady, each thrust was gentle but firm, your body yielding to him as he started to increase the pace, the sound of hot bodies meeting filling the small wooden cabin as the gentle sounds of the sea not far away filled the rest of the night. Soft moans spilled from your lips at the feel of his body playing yours like a delicate instrument, waiting for the chorus and the inevitable crescendo. But he was going to play the entire symphony first, knowing how to get you to sing the high notes as the thrum of your bodies were in tune with each other completely.

With the stretch of his girth and the way the curve of it meant he was able to find your g-spot with every thrust you were fast approaching your orgasm, your body trembling as your lips found a life of their own;

“Henry… please, so good… keep doing that… oh god, i’m gonna cum…”

“That’s it, my good girl, cum on my cock, let me feel you squeezing me so tight… feel so amazing right now… that’s it, you can do it…”

With a cry you came, your legs wrapped around his waist as you pulled him deep whilst your body shook with a fierce orgasm, triggering his own as he pumped a heavy load into the condom.

Finally spent, Henry settled on top of you, his weight a heavy comfort as your sweaty bodies lay skin to skin, the gentle roughness of his chest hair against your naked breasts a tender reminder of his virility. When he started to soften he finally shifted, holding the condom at the base as he pulled out and staggered the few steps to your small bathroom;

“I’ll be back in a second, gotta sort this out…”

The door closed and you shifted on the bed, pulling the duvet back and sliding between the sheets, listening as you heard the tell tale sound of a man urinating and the high pitched, double barrelled squeak of a fart. The flush of the toilet and water running soon after meant you knew the second he would reappear, a flannel in his hand and he stopped dead, his cheeks suddenly bright crimson;

“You heard that didn’t you?”

“It's a small wooden cabin… yes i did”

“Sorry” he approached the bed and with a warm flannel he carefully cleaned between your thighs, pressing a kiss to your lips as he did. When finished he sat on the side of the bed; “Can i stay the night, or did you want me to go?”

“Have you got work tomorrow?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope. Please, stay”

He quickly threw the flannel into the sink in the bathroom, before with a giggle climbed under the duvet and pulled you into his arms;

“So, how many more condom’s you got?”

-

The morning light broke softly through the trees that surrounded your cabin, your body sore but sated, knowing every bruise and ache came from soft lips, sharp teeth, or skilled fingers, apart from that one ache deep inside that you knew exactly what had caused that delicious soreness, and the owner and cause of all of it still softly slept in your bed. Climbing out you quickly used the bathroom, and as you came back into the room the artist in you couldn’t help but to admire how the dappled morning light cascaded over Henry’s body. Slipping his work t-shirt over your head you pulled your sketchbook from your backpack and settled onto the only chair in the room, quietly working carbon to paper.

Henry woke 45 minutes later, the gentle scratching of your art making him squint at the bright daylight, before laying back on the pillows with his arms spread;

“Still life class?”

Setting your sketchbook down you padded across the room and climbed onto the bed;

“Sorry, i couldn’t help myself… the way the sun was hitting the muscles of your back and shoulders, you were like an anatomy masterpiece”

With a laugh and moving much quicker than you thought he was possible of, he grabbed you by the waist and turned you, his body atop of yours;

“Well that’s enough of that, i would like to become better acquainted with your anatomy… and as we’ve both got the day off i suggest we make the most of it”

Laughing you fell into his embrace, sighing with happiness. Henry really was a keeper, as you were for sure not going to let him go. 

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfiction

[malereader-inserts]

Chamber of Reflection

Fandom: BBC Sherlock Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Male!Reader Summary: Oh dearest Sherlock, are you ready to move on? Word Count: 2,329 Warning: Blood and Death

“I don’t believe in love.”

You scoff out a laughter before turning to look at them, your smile dropped as you looked at them incredulously, “You’re kidding me right?”

“No?” They questioned back as if it was totally obvious because that’s how they were as a person, “I just don’t believe in love.”

“Impossible,” You shake your head, “Everyone believes in love, you, you’re different. You believe you don’t deserve love. That’s a whole different thing.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, “Same thing.”

“Absolutely not, Sherlock,” You folded your arms over your chest, “Your mother loves you, that’s family love. John loves you, that’s platonic love. I love you.”

“What type of love is that?”

“Figure it out, smartass.”

He never really figured it out.

Sherlock was smart, but he’s dumb at the same time. 

He could rattle your ear off with different topics that he was interested in. He could give you a rundown about who you are and he probably knew you better than you knew yourself. But, give him a topic on a basic thing - he’ll malfunction. 

“The planets? Sherlock, surely you couldn’t have deleted that out your head.”

“You underestimate me, (Y/n).”

“Clearly,” You replied dryly, rolling your eyes, “But, I know you didn’t bring me here to talk about what basic stuff you’ve decided to ignore or have deleted from your so-called hardware.”

“At least you’re able to keep up with me,” Sherlock comments as you give yourself a little nod to the side as acknowledgement.

“Well, what is it?”

“Talk to me more about love, please.”

You narrow your eye at him, tilting your head to the side for a second, you were suspicious of his intention before sighing and tending to his question - after all, it is rare to have Sherlock say please, it’s not an opportunity to pass up.

“How desperate must you be for this information as you did say please.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“Alright,” you had your hands up in defence, “Well, love is different to each person and I can’t really help you that much Sherlock because it’s a learning process and it’ll be brutal. In a...somewhat good way.”

“That doesn’t explain anything at all!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head, “When you love someone, you just kinda know.”

“Right.”

“And...”

“Well, spit it out.”

You give him a soft smile, almost as if you knew something he didn’t know. Like you had to bit your tongue and refuse to tell him. He looks at your eyes, there is a glint of sadness, though he doesn’t comment on it as he allows you to speak.

“Love is going to ruin you someday, it doesn't matter if you don't believe in love, it doesn't matter if you think that you don't have the capacity to love someone, nothing matters. What matter is that one day you will fall in love and fall so hard that it will ruin you to the point that you will not be able to think correctly, to the point that your illness and cure both will be the love of your life, love will ruin you to the point you will look for sanity in insanity.”

“Back again so soon, Sherlock?”

He doesn’t answer you as he stands across from where you had claimed as your spot, you tilt your head in confusion at his silence, Sherlock loves to talk so why isn’t he talking. 

“Must be a rough day then, ay Sherlock?” You continue to talk, “I don’t blame you, having a fight with your best friend and then your brother being annoying as ever - Mycroft just doesn’t shut up.”

“How do you know about my day, this is the first time I’ve seen you this week?” Sherlock questions.

You knitted your eyebrows together, your lips pursed together, as you give him room to think before interrupting.

“When will you come to the terms that you’re the one who killed me?”

At that moment, Sherlock stops. If a record of music was playing then it did the scratching halt. Sherlock looks over to your way, he didn’t realise that at some point he had stopped looking at you, you sat there with your arms crossed over your chest.

“You’re not dead.”

“Not in your mind palace, Sherlock,” You say, you look at your surrounding, “In here, I’m very much...alive.”

“You’re not dead,” Sherlock stammers out, blinking frantically, “You’re here, in front of me.”

You dismissed his words, “Funny, each time you come to talk to me, we’re in the same room you killed me in. I have to give you props, though, you really have memorised the room I died.”

“It was your house.”

“Yeah!” You snapped your finger and pointed to him, “You remembered, I’m slightly touched.”

“You can’t be dead.”

“And we’re back to denial,” You hummed, sitting comfortably on the edge of the sink, “Look around you Sherlock, you’re just blocking and deleting things out.”

“No, I am not.”

“Look at the blood, Sherlock.”

Your voice was firm as he shuts his eyes, hoping you had calm down because he could clearly hear anger behind the words you spat. Sherlock opens his eyes and there, he saw the full picture. 

You sat on the sink of the kitchen, behind you were the windows and adjacent to your head was cabinets. Both were painted with the splatter of blood. He looked at your appearance, there was red upon your hands and your clothes...

Your clothes, every time he had visited you, you were still in the same clothes - he wouldn’t have mentioned anything to you about it, he knows from you and John that pointing stuff out can be offensive. 

Your clothes, they were drenched in blood - your blood. 

“Look me in the eyes, Sherlock, look at me.”

Sherlock doesn’t want to, he wants to rearrange the whole scenario and pretend that everything was rainbows and happy, yet he looked at you. He stared deep into your eyes and had to stop himself from gagging at the scene.

There was a bullet hole at your forehead, dried blood seems to drip from the wound when it was fresh. 

“Don’t you remember Sherlock?” You asked, looking at him, “You killed, but at what cost?”

“I-”

“I mean, I know why you killed me, after all, I’m just living in your head so I get to know about what you’re thinking and all. But, I really want to hear it from your own mouth.”

Sherlock felt like he was stuck in this nightmare because essentially he was, he couldn’t just snap back into reality or wake up from his sleep. He felt like you had restraints on him and he’s unable to breakthrough.

“I killed you...” He murmurs as you lean forward, “I killed you because I loved you.”

You chuckled, softly, “Love, it makes you do real crazy things.”

See, Sherlock kept you in his head because you were important to him. You were his first and only love, you and Sherlock have known each other since primary school. You had been his only friend, even if he kept pushing you away. 

You were the only one who could keep up with his smarts and his weird little thinking, but you were by his side - his first best friend. The man he loved. When the two of you got into high school, you and him were often seen together. You humanised Sherlock, back then he understood what it means to feel.

He was human back then, not this sociopathic man that he grew up to be. Sherlock loved you, just like you loved him. Even if you never really said anything out loud, he knew that you loved him with the way you grabbed him by his wrist and leading him away, it was the soft smile, gentle looks and caring words. 

He wished he was able to spend a little longer being your boyfriend because you two managed fess up your feelings when you were eighteen. You were about to go to University, away from Sherlock. He wished he had mustered the courage to ask you to be his boyfriend years before.

“Sherlock, I’m not mad that you killed me.”

Sherlock snapped back into his room with you, you looked at him with the same caring eyes he grew up with, he tilts his head in confusion, he’s missing something in this memory - did he block it out or did he deleted it forever?

“They would have killed me anyway, I don’t have a life further than this Sherlock, both you and I know this,” He listens to your tender voice carefully, you’re no longer angry at him just angry that Sherlock refuses to move on, “You and I did it, Sherlock, you framed the murder perfectly on them.”

Them.

Who was them?

Sherlock looks at you before he hurled himself into the memory.

“You’re bleeding!”

“I’m quite aware of that Sherlock!”

Sherlock stands by the doorway of the kitchen, it’s messy as you sat on the sink, lifting your shirt to see the wound. You cringed, even Sherlock couldn’t remember what had happened to make you look like this and losing blood rapidly.

“You’re being remarkably calm about this.”

“Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen,” You say, pulling your shirt down and you looking at your boyfriend.

“We need to take you to the hospital.”

“Absolutely not, Sherlock, if they found out I went there. They’ll kill me!”

“They’ll kill you either way!” Sherlock pressed on, “Please, there must be some other way.” 

“You kill me,” You said almost immediately, you looked at him with sharp eyes.

“No, (Y/n), no, are you an idiot?” Sherlock hissed at you, “There is another way, we just have to think about it.”

“We don’t have time to think, Sherlock,” You admitted, “They kill me, they’ll hind the evidence and go live another day, free, do you want that for me?”

“Of course not!” Sherlock was offended that you would suggest that, “I can prove that they kill you, I can do it - you can trust me.”

“I trust you, Sher,” You say, desperate and lovingly, “But, wouldn’t it be better to frame them?”

Sherlock stood there, weighing out the pros and cons in your thinking. Perhaps it was clouded, his judgement as he sees you point out a gun on the kitchen table and reminding him to use a glove so they don’t pick up any of his fingerprints. 

What was going through Sherlock’s mind? He wouldn’t be able to tell you, because when he aimed the gun at you there was no thought behind his eyes. You swallowed nervously.

“Hey, Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“Just know I love you, and I will never hold it against you.” 

“I know.”

“Sherlock?” He looks back at you, “Oh, good, you’re responsive.”

“I never said I love you.”

“Oh, Sherlock,” you laughed, he pretends that it didn’t slightly hurt him, “You think I didn’t know?”

Sherlock looked down then back up at you, you were back in clean clothes and the surrounding of your kitchen was clean. Though, you didn’t look phased. 

“I mean-”

You raised an eyebrow, “You did at least frame them right? My parents?”

Sherlock knitted his eyebrows, “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Sherlock looks at you, watches you breathe in and out, there was a clear disappointment and you had stopped intensely watching him. You turn to look back at him, he was surprised to see you smile at him as you clapped your hand.

“Well, I’m not going to shy away from saying that I am disappointed, perhaps that’s why you blocked out the memory,” You spoke, crossing your arms.

“I can fix it!”

“Can you?”

“I made a name for myself, (Y/n), Mycroft can help me as well as Craig-”

“Greg-”

“Whatever, and we can finally bring you justice, maybe you could be at peace.”

“It’s not me that I’m concern for peace, Sherlock, you’re the one who keeps me alive in your mind palace,” You admitted as you lay down the reality of Sherlock, “It’s time to let me go. The question is: Are you ready?”

Mycroft comes knocking at the door, he was greeted by John.

“Sherlock is busy,” John says from his armchair as Mycroft enters without a proper invite. 

Mycroft looks around the room before stopping at the bookshelves, a picture frame that was permanently situated as face down was now standing, showing the picture that was kept hidden from the world.

Mycroft makes his way towards it as John looks at him.

“Sherlock put it up yesterday, along with a new case.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Mycroft leered, softly smiling to himself, “What’s the case about?”

“The murder of (Y/n) (L/n), Sherlock is convinced that it wasn’t suicide, though I don’t know how he knows about the case, that was closed over a decade ago - at least that’s was Lestrade said.”

“Watson, do you know who is standing next to Sherlock in this picture?”

John looked at the picture, he could recognise Sherlock when he was younger. he still had the curls and bright blue eyes, standing straight up, next to him was a boy smiling and had his arm over the sociopath’s shoulder - though back then, you could hardly call Sherlock a sociopath.

“No?”

“That is (Y/n) (L/n),” Mycroft says as John’s eyebrow raised up, “He is the reason why Sherlock snapped and changed in his behaviour. His death caused Sherlock to lose his pathway.”

“He means a lot to Sherlock?”

“Well, he is the only person Sherlock truly love romantically. Perhaps the first and love of Sherlock.”

“Sherlock loved him?”

“He still does, it’s why he’s reopening this case because dear Watson, between us two and Sherlock. This is not a case to solve a murder, this is to frame someone of murder and we’re going to help him.”

#sherlock BBC #sherlock imagine #sherlock bbc imagine #sherlock holmes x male reader #x male reader #personal favourite

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

This story takes place during the summer of 1987. It's the time of the Cold War, and heavy metal, and Just Say No.

Ten chapters, each with a specific song as its soundtrack.

I'm so excited to finally share it with you.

----

Chapter 1: Starry Eyes

Soundtrack: "Starry Eyes," Mötley Crüe, 1981 [click here to listen]

It was quiet here in the mountains.

Claire Beauchamp drew in a long, shaky breath of clear, crisp air, and tucked her legs up onto the seat of the Adirondack chair. Watching the sun set over the valley.

Gripping the arm of the chair with shaky hands.

Behind her on the deck, a dozen or so strangers – men and women – shuffled into their own chairs, or to square tables with board games under one arm. Chatter wafted through the door that led into The Ridge’s main building.

The brochure that Joe Abernathy had pressed into her hands, sitting in the back seat of his Jaguar sedan while his wife Gail drove them to the airport, described The Ridge as a residential treatment facility. Her mind was still reeling from the intervention, and that Gail had already packed her a duffel bag stuffed with essentials – it had all been so seamless.

There were many things Claire had wanted to block out in the two years since she’d left Frank and everything had fallen apart. Many things she had shut out from the world around her, paralyzed by pain. But she hadn’t lost all of her faculties quite yet.

Because no matter what The Ridge called itself, no matter how beautiful the landscaping of its grounds, or the plush cushions on the chairs, or the gourmet meals prepared by the in-house chef (herself five years in recovery, or so the brochure proudly proclaimed), there was no hiding what it really was.

Rehab.

Claire was there because she was an addict.

And she would stay there until she had unfucked her life.

“Excuse me?”

She turned to see a tall man, red hair down to his shoulders, colorful tattoos covering every inch of his arms and disappearing beneath the sleeves of a well-fitted black t-shirt.

“May I sit next to you?”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He flopped down into the chair, crossed his long legs, and lay both palms on the armrests, thumbs tapping a quick beat.

“First day?”

It had been forty six hours since her last fix, and pain sliced her skull. She hadn’t gone this long without in more than a year. “Yes,” she murmured.

Now his fingers joined in the tapping. “Thought so. The new ones always come in the middle of the day – that’s why Group is always in the afternoons. So we can have our individual sessions in the morning, and meet all together in the afternoon. It helps to stick to a schedule.”

She turned in the chair to look at him. He wasn’t looking at her – just gazing straight ahead – but he kept talking. “Anyway, it’ll just be a few minutes until dinner. I hope you like Mexican – they take Taco Tuesdays pretty seriously around here.”

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name. I know we introduced ourselves at Group, but it’s all just a blur.”

He turned to face her, and she could hear his smile. “Don’t worry about it. You’re Claire – pills addict. That’s what you told us, anyway.”

“It’s true.”

“Well then.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Jamie – I’m an alcoholic. Bourbon, mostly. And a little bit of cocaine, now and again.”

She gripped his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m a sex addict, too,” he added. “John – my therapist here – he said that the more honest I am, the better it will be for me later on.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” she said, not quite sure what else to say.

“I’ve hurt a lot of people by not being honest, and by drinking, and not being honest about my drinking.” He folded his hands in his lap. Lallybroch read one tattoo inching up his left arm, and Ellen read another. “I’m on the tenth step. I’ve learned a lot so far.”

Claire stared down at her own hands – bare, except for her mother’s silver wedding band, which Uncle Lamb had given her when she was twelve. “Well, if we’re going for honesty – I’m a trauma surgeon, at one of the top hospitals in Boston. My asshole ex-husband used to hit me, and I prescribed myself some ludes to deaden everything. I wrote out the scripts to him, then took them to the pharmacy myself.” She pursed her lips, feeling his eyes on her. “I thought I had it under control – I thought that nobody noticed. Until I showed up high one day, and made a stupid mistake, and almost killed a patient.”

He was strangely quiet – and after silently counting to twenty, Claire looked up at him. He was still tapping his fingers against the armrest of the chair, though in a more structured, organized rhythm. Nodding his head. Thinking.

“It was my best friend who got me here,” he said softly. “I’ve known him since we were kids – he even married my sister. He saw what I was doing to myself, how much I was hurting her, and hurting the thing that he and I had worked so hard to build.” A spray of black and white stars flexed above his elbow. “Who got you here?”

“My best friend. We went to medical school together – he was my man of honor at my wedding. He and his wife staged a full-on intervention.”

Jamie’s brows lifted. “Wow.”

She nodded, encouraged. “I’d already been indefinitely suspended without pay from the hospital. I figured, what do I have to lose?”

“Yeah. We have to reach that point.”

A metallic clang pierced the air – and Claire jumped.

Jamie smiled. “That’s the literal dinner bell. Like I said, I hope you like tacos.”

Claire slid forward in the chair and stood, stretching. “I could eat anything right about now. I’m not too picky.”

Now Jamie stood – and smiled down at her. “I’m helping get everyone seated tonight – we all pick up chores around here. See you in there?”

She smiled back. “Yeah. And thanks for talking to me.”

“No sweat.” Quickly he stepped away from her and across the deck toward the door back inside.

“Hey.”

Claire turned to see a woman – young, dark-haired, size zero – remove her enormous sunglasses.

“Yes?”

“I can’t believe you were talking to him!” she exclaimed.

Claire shoved her hands into her pockets. “What do you mean?”

The woman shook her head. “Do you even know who he is?”

“He introduced himself. Seemed nice enough. Why?”

The woman huffed and flipped her hair over one shoulder. “That’s Jamie Fraser. You know – the singer and lead guitarist in Print?”

“Print?” Claire searched her scattered memory. “Isn’t that some hard rock band?”

“Not just some band – the biggest band in the world for at least five years now. Like, dozens of hits, videos on MTV 24/7, big stadium tours, and armloads of awards. I’ve been trying to get his attention since I got here! And he just walked right up to you!”

It had been a long day. Claire was hungry, and tired, and wanted nothing more than an aspirin and a pillow – maybe a taco first. Definitely not any more time with this girl.

“Well, thanks for the info – ”

“Geneva,” the woman explained. “I’m an alcoholic. You?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Claire made a beeline for the door.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #little bit better than i used to be #here we go

[meltwonu]

8. “Like what you see?”

19. “Take off your clothes.”

48. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”

notes; idol!soonyoung x stylist!reader, mirror fucking, dirty talk, a little praise kink😗, softdom!soonyoung, oral(fem receiving)/fingering, also waiitttt this is hot😳🥴but u have to imagine 191227 kbs gayo soonyoung with the mesh shirt ykwim, i actually want to sew my own rendition of these green outfits tbh like the seamstress in me is so in love with the green shades and silver accents just *chefs kiss* maybe when i’m not lazy LOL, anyway!! Thank you for liking my long posts😭💕 jdkksfh I know I can’t shut up… This ‘drabble’ is 2200 words bc I got carried away dkjfsf ☠️ And thank you for requesting! Enjoy! 💕

“Take off your clothes.”

Soonyoung pretends to be scandalized; eyes wide and lips parted in an over dramatic gasp. “You didn’t even buy me dinner first~” He jokes, already slipping off his fluffy coat as you roll your eyes.

“Soonyoung, please. I need you to behave and help me pick out the clothes that’ll decide what the rest of the performance unit members will wear. I’m behind and I need to get hip hop unit’s clothes picked out after.” You let out an exasperated sigh, pulling the rack of clothes closer to the two of you as Soonyoung stands and faces the tall full length mirror.

He slides his shirt off, lips in a pout when you toss a silky button up his way. “You’re overworked and you need a break. When was the last time you slept?”

“Try this one first, please. And yes, I’m aware. It’s busy this time of the year, I have a lot of things to do and who knows if I’ll even sleep before the new year.” You say it jokingly, but the look in your eyes tell Soonyoung it might not all be in jest.

“You need a break, baby.”

“I know, okay? Just try this damn shirt on first and we can talk about that later.”

Soonyoung looks good in everything he tries on, but everything he’d tried on so far didn’t seem to have the look you were going for.

“I don’t know… I feel like these black suits are overdone and the uniforms just look too formal, y’know? Maybe we should go for something casual… Maybe more sexy?” You help Soonyoung out of a brocade blazer, tossing it onto the rack as you sigh. “I don’t know, Soonie… You look good in everything but I don’t know what’s the mood right now.”

Soonyoung laughs as he unbuttons the pressed black button up before he, himself, starts going through the rack of clothing. “I’m telling you, you’re overthinking this.” It goes quiet for a bit as he sifts through the rest; a small ‘ah ha!’ leaving his lips when he picks out a dark green velvet lined blazer with matching pants.

“There’s no shirt with this one?” He asks.

“There is, it’s---here.” You help him out, pulling the hanger with the mesh shirt out. “I--I wasn’t sure about this one since it’s gonna be cold. I can put a shirt under it if it’s... y’know.”

“Lemme try it on!”

He shoots you an eager smile; letting you do your job as you help him into the green ensemble.

Your throat goes dry once Soonyoung slips on the blazer and you can’t deny the way your body warms up at the sex appeal that Soonyoung naturaly exudes in the outfit.

“Like what you see?” He grins, doing a spin for you.

Fuck.

“Um--uh…” You’re at a loss for words, suddenly shy with the way Soonyoung shoots you a knowing smirk. “You just saw me with my shirt off so why are you shy now?” You don’t know how to explain it to him, but the mesh shirt that paired with the blazer gave the outfit a sense of flirtatiousness and sexiness without being completely bare.

Soonyoung’s eyes twinkle in a familiar way and you can only gulp knowing exactly where this was going.

“I think… You need to take that break right now.”

“F--fuck, Soonyoung don’t---don’t get the clothes d-dirty!” Whining, you place your hands on his clothed shoulders the second he drops to his knees; still dressed in the outfit as he rolls his eyes up at you.

“It’s fine, if anything it’s just a ‘lil dust. Now shut up and let me eat you out already.”

He had backed you up against the tall mirror, soft praises on his lips the entire time before he’d kissed you hard and slotted a leg between your own. Teasingly, he pressed his chest against your own; smirking when he saw the lust pooling in your eyes when you felt his, essentially, bare skin against your clothed chest. He knew the effect he had on you and it definitely hadn’t been the first time a fitting session ended with more clothes off than on.

Soonyoung pries your legs apart, leaning in and pushing your skirt up until it bunches up around your waist. “You really need a break, baby. When’s the last time I even got to eat you out, hmm?” He doesn’t give you much of a warning before he’s leaning in and licking at you through your panties; a soft moan on your lips at the feeling.

“Ugh, fuck, but it’s me that has to clean it, Soonyoung…” Muttering, you watch as he focuses on teasing you; flattening his tongue against your covered folds and the action has you grinding down onto his tongue, biting your lip at the way him not bothering to move your panties only intensifies the pleasure.

He lets you do as you please; your soft and quiet cries the only noise in the empty changing room. “Oh, Soonyoung…”

Smirking, he slightly pulls away as he brings his fingers up to pull your panties to the side. “I know, baby. Let me make you feel good.” You nod slightly, hazy eyes fluttering shut when you feel his tongue on your skin.

You let out a long groan, head thrown back into the mirror as Soonyoung drags his tongue from your entrance to your clit; flicking at the nub with the tip of his tongue. “Fuck, you’re--you’re such a tease…” You whine, to which he chuckles against your skin.

‘I could be worse,’ he thinks.

He drags his tongue down until he can dip it into your entrance, teasing you when he repeats the action over and over and you quickly find yourself wanting more than just his tongue.

“Fuck, I want m-more…”

Soonyoung takes pity, knowing that this was a much needed break for you. So he brings his fingers up to your folds, collecting the wetness on his index and middle finger as he looks up at you.

“This is cute and all but I do hope you remember we’re on a time crunch.” Grinning, he positions his soaked digits at your entrance before fully sheathing them inside of your tight warmth in one fluid movement. You cry out his name;  body on fire when he curls and scissors his digits just the way he knows you like it.

“Mm, I could eat you out all day. Get you up on that makeup table and eat you out little by little in between sets until your entire body is trembling.” Soonyoung pauses, thrusting his fingers into you hard. “You’d be so cute too, baby. Imagine your ‘lil pussy all wet for me, ready to take my cock after a loooong show. I’d bend you over the sofa and give you what you want. Fuck you nice ‘n good and make you come home with me so I can fuck you again while we get cleaned up in the shower. And you’d be so fuckin’ wet I bet I could slide my cock right into you, huh?”

Soonyoung’s words combined with the skillful flicks of his wrist are almost enough to throw you over the edge. 

But the two of you knew you wanted more.

“G-god, Soonyoung, please! I’m so---so wet you can fuck me n-now!” You harshly whisper; hips moving on their own to meet his hand. The said male smirks, licking his lips before he leans in once more to flick his tongue against your clit.

“You deserve it for working so hard~” He coos.

You’re not sure what it is, but Soonyoung has a fascination with mirrors. You don’t know if it’s because he has to watch himself so often in them, but he takes any chance he gets to fuck you in front of one.

Not that you’d complain.

“Palms flat against the mirror, baby.” You watch through the mirror as he shrugs off the jacket; tossing it haphazardly behind him as it falls to the ground in a lifeless heap. “Goddamn it, Soonyoung! I’m gonna have to dry clean that!”

He can only smirk, repositioning himself behind you as he meets your not-so threatening glare. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad. Remind me next time to rip something instead.”

Soonyoung undoes the button and zipper of his pants, shimmying his underwear down just enough for him to wrap a hand around his cock. He lets out a groan as he thrusts up into his palm; smearing the precum down his shaft as you squirm and wiggle your hips. “Soonyoung, please hurry…”

“Ah, guess you’re right. Wouldn’t want someone to walk in on us, would we?”

He moves your panties to the side and positions his cock at your entrance, already inching in before you can open your mouth again. “Oh? You really are soaking, baby.” Your tight warmth sucks him in deeper and when he meets no resistance, he fully bottoms out inside of you as you cry out.

“Fuck m-me, please! I can’t w-wait any longer!”

Soonyoung chuckles under his breath as he draws his hips back, “You’ve been workin’ so hard, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He thrusts into you slowly; letting you feel every inch of his cock before he starts a moderately quick pace. “I wish we had more time but, ah, still so much work to do, huh?”

You nod shakily, eyes clamped shut as you focus on the feeling of Soonyoung’s skillful thrusts that are angled perfectly to tap your g-spot. “Ngh, I--y--yeah…”

“Baby, look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

Soonyoung’s voice is gentle and warm, yet firm. And more than enough for you to blink your hazy eyes open. “Suh---sorry…” You mewl.

His stare pierces through the mirror and you can’t deny how attractive Soonyoung looked fucking you in the mesh top that he hadn’t bothered to take off either.

“Ah, look at how cute you are falling apart on my cock. So fuckin’ pretty.” He grits his teeth, already feeling the pleasure building up in his body. “Mm, gonna make you finish up the rest of your workday with my cum inside of your cunt.”

You clench around his cock as you mentally imagine his cum pooling in your panties and soaking through the material while you still had to deal with the other members. “Please… Soonyoung… I--ah, wanna g-go home with your c-cum dripping, mmh, down my t-thighs…”

He lets out a whistle, shaking his head slightly before he laughs. “Since you said please. Touch your clit for me, baby.”

Reaching a hand down, you use your index and middle finger to rub soft circles on the swollen nub; moaning into the mirror and fogging it up as you tighten up around his cock.

“Fuck, baby, I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer…” He mutters.

You can only nod and work your hips back to meet his own thrusts, “M-me too…” You hear him groan before he doubles his pace, fucking into you faster as you feel your body shifting more and more towards the mirror. You rest the side of your face against it, breath fogging it up as the two of you chase your orgasms.

Neither of you know how much time is left in the fitting session, but you really hoped nobody walked in on you slumped against the mirror with your skirt bunched around your waist and Soonyoung with his cock out.

“Cum on my cock, baby. Get it nice ‘n wet before I fill you up.”

You work your fingers quicker on your clit, this time alternating between pinching the nub and rubbing harsher circles to throw yourself over the edge.

“Oh, S---Soonyoung, ‘m c-cumming!”

It only takes a few more perfectly angled thrusts before your orgasm washes over you and Soonyoung’s name rolls off your tongue in a hurried, jumbled mess and through the haze, you can vaguely hear Soonyoung’s groans as he follows suit; hips stuttering and losing rhythm. 

You moan at the feeling of his cock throbbing inside of you just as he moans at the feeling of your walls fluttering and tightening around him; the two of you slowing down your movements as you let the warmth wash over your already heated bodies.

“Fuck…” He mutters.

A sheen of sweat covers his brow and he’s quick to run a hand through his hair as he watches your body tremble underneath him. He chuckles under his breath; letting the remnants of his orgasm ebb away before he’s slowly easing his cock out of you.

You moan at the emptiness and your sticky hand quickly finds purchase on the mirror again to keep yourself upright. Your panties slide back into place like they’d never been moved and you bite your bottom lip when you already start to feel his cum soaking into the fabric.

“Ngh, Soonyoung… I feel… s-sticky… and we---we need to c-clean up...”

The said male is three seconds from laughing when there’s two sharp knocks on the door that have the both of you going rigid at the same time.

“Hey, um, our fitting sesh should’ve started 15 minutes ago. Just… letting you know. We’re... behind.”

Vernon’s shy and quiet voice pierces through the awkward silence and through the mirror you meet Soonyoung’s red cheeks and sheepish smile.

“Oopsies~”

#hoshi smut #soonyoung smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #hoshi scenarios #hoshi imagines #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung scenarios #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #hoshi #soonyoung #svt fic #seventeen fic

[pastel-odette]

Revenge- A Banana Fish Fanfiction

This is a fic written for @emi-joanna. Sorry it took so long, I started work and college this past month. I hope it's as angsty as you requested!

(tws are properly tagged as tw _____)

“Eiji! Hurry up! We’re gonna be late!”

Eiji came rushing out of the house, locking up before making his way to the car. “What took you so long?” Aslan asked. Eiji opened up his satchel to reveal various snacks and sweets. “I had to grab the essentials,” he said with a smile. Aslan chuckled. “You really think we’re gonna need them?” “Yes!! During last year’s shrine visit you whined and whined about being hungry, so this time I thought I’d come prepared.” “How do you even remember that?” “Magic, my love. Now enough questions! Let’s go already!” It had been seven years since the couple had moved to Izumo. The first year had been the toughest. Despite being months out of the hospital, Aslan had still been reeling from the attack from Lao. The realization that even after Dino was dead, even after he thought he was finally free, someone still wanted to kill him had hit him extremely hard. He had felt foolish for thinking he would ever be anything other than what Dino made him. To hunt and be hunted, was that really all there was left for him? He had almost wished he hadn’t survived. He didn’t even understand why he survived in the first place.

The decision to move to Japan with Eiji did not come easy. Almost every part of him was screaming at him to abandon that hope that he could ever have a normal life. The physical distance made it seem more unattainable, too. However, Eiji was persistent. He would text every day, and call as much as he could. He was determined to make sure Aslan saw their original plan to move to Japan through.

Eventually, Aslan caved in. He said goodbye to New York, and started a new life with his soulmate. It wasn’t until he laid in bed that night, Eiji sleeping peacefully next to him, that what he did hit him all at once. An entirely new country with nothing to protect himself with.

For a while, they stayed at the Okumura family house. Eiji’s father was still in the hospital as he learned, so it was just the two of them, Eiji’s mother, and his sister. He felt surprisingly welcomed, like he was truly part of the family. It was strange to him to meet people so truly kind and hospitable upon first meeting. It wasn’t long until it started to feel like home.

But it still didn’t feel safe. He would lay awake at night, Eiji beside him, terrified of every little noise he heard. On the rare occasions where he did sleep, he would have terrible nightmares, and when he would jolt awake he would reach for a gun that wasn’t there.

The Okumuras noticed how fidgety and cautious he was. So, they installed a security system in their house. They did everything, big and small, to help him adjust to this new life. When Aslan and Eiji moved out into their own house, they took a lot of these things with them. The security system, the protective charms, the little statues of gods that could protect them. It stunned Aslan how… good he felt to be living this life.

Izumo is where Aslan had found peace and happiness. “We’re here,” Aslan said.

They made their way through the rows of trees together, surrounded by other people also dressed for the chilly weather. Some wore their traditional kimonos, some wore more casual winter clothes. As they approached the torii gates they saw a familiar person standing there. “Mari!” Eiji shouted as he waved to his sister. She waved back as she walked up and gave them both a tight hug. “How are your studies going?” Aslan asked with a soft smile. “Well, just as tough as last year. But I’m glad to finally be visiting again!” She beamed.

When Aslan moved to Japan, Mari was right there alongside Eiji to greet him. She was thrilled to meet him, and sympathetic when she realized Aslan had lived a much different life than her and her brother. It wasn’t long until she felt like his own sister. When she moved to Tokyo for college, he nearly cried with how proud he was.

“You’re not wearing mom’s kimono this year,” Eiji pointed out.

Usually, Mari would wear a deep blue kimono with a stunningly complex design depicting a soaring phoenix and a gold-colored obi. It was passed down through many generations until it was owned by their mother, and now her. Now she was wearing a pale yellow kimono with a much simpler chrysanthemum pattern and pink obi with a chrysanthemum obidome to match. Mari gave a sad smile. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. I just didn’t want something so… connected to her anymore. So my friends took me shopping and I found this. Don’t worry though, I didn’t throw away the other one or anything. It’s still in my closet.” “I think it looks good. Suits you,” said Aslan. Eiji nodded his head. This time, Mari beamed.

Being the very first day of the New Year, the temple was crowded with all sorts of people. The chozuya was completely packed, and it took them a few minutes before they were able to purify their hands. Ash always wondered if his hands could ever be truly pure, but he tried not to think about that as he poured the water. It was supposed to be a day of celebration and good luck. He didn’t want his thoughts to ruin that.

Every year, Aslan wished to the gods for protection. Protection from violence, from grief, from assault, from everything that made his life miserable for so long. This year was no different. However, there was something else this year he needed extra luck for. He prayed for that too.

Next, they went to exchange their omamori. Aslan chose the protection charm, as he did every year, and Mari chose the education charm. Usually, Eiji would get the protection charm just as Aslan did. This time he chose the success charm. “What goal do you want to be successful?” Mari asked.

“This year, I’m determined to have my own photo gallery.” It was a goal he had for a while, but this year he was going to have the luck of the gods on his side.

Finally, they needed to pull their o-mikuji.

“I’m a little nervous,” Mari jokes. Most of the time she had negative fortunes. However, this year, she would apparently have a future blessing (and small luck in her romantic relationships). Aslan was given half-blessing with lots of luck in travel. Then it was Eiji’s turn.

“Curse…”

“Well, it could be worse,” Aslan said, “at least you’re not super-mega-cursed.”

Eiji just sighed and folded up the paper.

“You’re not gonna read the rest of it?” “Nah. Not really a point.”

As they left the shrine, Eiji trailed behind and sulked.

Aslan gave Mari a nudge.

“You talk to him, you're the psychology major. I’m no good at this stuff.”

Mari nodded and went to walk beside Eiji.

“Listen, if it’s just a regular curse, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. It’s mostly just little everyday inconveniences. The worst I’ve experienced with just a regular curse is that really bad breakup I had with Yui.” “With who??” “Hush, Aslan, this isn’t about you. Anyways, I don’t think you have anything to really worry about.”

When they get to the parking lot, they have to part ways. Mari made plans to go visit some of her old friends, and Aslan and Eiji had to return home, as they were going to host dinner that night.

When Aslan and Eiji arrived home, they were greeted by a very excitable golden retriever. They had gotten him about a year ago, when he was just a year old, from a local shelter. Even then, he still acted a little bit like a puppy.

“Hey, Bud,” Aslan said as he knelt down to pet Buddy. The dog jumped up to lick his face.

“Should we start dinner now?” Eiji asked as he put down his stuff and made his way to the kitchen.

“You can. Might as well. Just in case someone comes early or something.”

“You can’t just spend all afternoon petting Buddy, you know.” “I know, I know! I’ll help you in a minute.”

Buddy didn’t seem to mind all the extra attention he was getting, though. But eventually, Aslan had to go help his partner.

“Alright, so what’s the plan?” asked Aslan as he put on his apron. He didn’t always help in the kitchen, his skill level was limited to basic survival foods, but over the years he got better and better at it. It felt very domestic, to cook alongside someone.

“How about you start on the datemaki? I’ll make the ramen.”

Aslan nodded, and they both started getting their ingredients. The kitchen was large enough that they could work around each other comfortably, and it wasn’t long until the kitchen started to smell delicious. Buddy noticed this, and trotted over to beg for treats.

“I have nothing for you,” Aslan said. Still, Buddy sat beside him, wagging his tail and giving him an expectant look. Aslan tried to ignore him as he started to whine, focusing on mixing the ingredients together.

“Here, Buddy!” Eiji called the dog, waving a large bone. Buddy instantly jumped up and ran over, wagging his tail furiously. Eiji then gave him the bone, which Buddy took to the living room happily.

“There we go, that’ll keep him occupied,” Eiji smiled. Aslan couldn’t help but smile back.

They continued cooking nonstop into the evening. As time went on, the more dishes they completed, and the more it started to look like a full meal. However, they were still pretty far from done.

Aslan sighed as he stretched. There was enough time to just take a tiny little break, he thought. He leaned against the counter and looked over at Eiji. His partner seemed distracted by something as he stared off into space.

“Hey.”

“Ah!” Eiji jumped, fumbling the bag of flour he was holding before dropping it on the counter.

“Ohhh no!” he exclaimed. Aslan chuckled slightly before helping his partner clean up the mess.

“Looks like your bad luck has officially begun.”

“Don’t even joke about that!” Eiji said as he smacked the other with a floured towel. Ash looked down at his arm then back up at Eiji with a smile.

“Really? You wanna start this?” He dipped his thumb in the flour before smudging it across Eiji’s cheek.

“You’re on!”

And that’s how it started, a full-blown flour war.

Nothing was spared. Flour was thrown, smudged, and flew everywhere. The counters, the floor, their clothes, their skin, their hair and skin, all of it was covered in at least a thin layer of flour.

It was stupid, it was childish, they had wasted an entire bag just making everything dirty. But they didn’t care. It was fun. They were having fun and messing around together. At that moment, they weren’t thinking about having to clean up and get back to cooking, they just thought about each other.

The couple just laid on the floor together as Buddy sniffed around them before licking Aslan in the face.

“No, Buddy!” Aslan squealed, pushing Buddy’s face away. The dog just wagged his tail as his owners helped each other up.

“You’re a mess,” Eiji laughed.

“Speak for yourself! You’re even dirtier than me! Go take a shower, I’ll clean this all up.”

Eiji kissed Aslan’s floured cheek before going to wash himself and his clothes.

Once everything was all clean, both of them included, they had to work faster in order to get everything done by the time their guests would arrive. Occasionally, though, they would look over at each other, and laugh silently before getting back to work.

Eventually, they had a complete New Year’s Day dinner. Eiji set the table while Aslan arranged the food into the boxes.

“Well, I’d say it looks pretty good,” Aslan said.

“We make a pretty good team!” Eiji shouted from the dining room.

When everything was all set for their guests to arrive, they high-fived to celebrate their hard work. It was the first time they cooked for New Year’s all on their own, and it was the first time they would be hosting.

The first to arrive were Ibe and his wife, Namiko. They met shortly after he returned to Japan, and she was a very kind woman, the kind that got along with all her neighbors and would check in on them from time to time. The couple greeted their hosts warmly with hugs and a bottle of sake.

Buddy was thrilled to have guests, and quickly ran over to receive pets from two of his many favorite humans.

It wasn’t much longer after that when Mari arrived, and the party officially started. Chatter filled the house as they ate. They talked about everything that had happened during the past year, everything they accomplished, and everything they hoped to accomplish this year.

“Well, I have no complaints,” Ibe said, “We traveled a lot this year for work.”

“It was great! So many fun new places we visited,” Namiko said.

“Mine was just another normal year of classes. I made a new group of friends, and they’re really great," Mari said through a mouthful of food.

“We adopted our dog,” Eiji beamed. Buddy was resting in the living room. After a while of whining for food, he had finally given up, and they knew if they mentioned him by name he would come over and start begging again.

The party went on late into the night as they continued to chat and drink. Everyone’s spirits couldn’t be higher as they celebrated the past and welcomed in the future, giving a toast for good luck. Eventually, though, the night had to end. They said their goodbyes to each other, and the guests went home, leaving Aslan and Eiji to clean up.

Aslan felt content as he washed the dishes. It was a great night, surrounded by people he loved. Seven years in Japan. He hadn’t felt like Ash Lynx in so long. He felt like he had control over his life.

A partner, a house, a dog, a legal job, friends, a little sister. The old ladies on his street fawned over him as if he was free from sin. The local coffee shop knew his face and order by heart. Nobody feared him, they were all friendly towards him, and treated him as if he really was normal.

Oftentimes it felt unreal. But as he sat on the couch, Eiji nestled into his side, he knew it was.

“Thank you,” Eiji murmured.

“For what?”

“For helping out today. For everything you do. You’re so good to me.”

Aslan smiled softly.

“I should be the one saying that to you.”

“How about we’re both good to each other?”

“Yeah,” Aslan whispered, “I can agree with that.”

The next few days of the New Year were spent with Mari. The plan was for her to go back to Tokyo on the fourth, when the holiday was over, so they wanted as much time with her as they could.

During the Japanese New Year, businesses are closed for the next three days. They couldn't go to restaurants, shops, or the market. So mostly, they just spent time at Aslan and Eiji’s house. Watching TV, playing board games, and video games on the SNES they got a few years back. They could also go to the beach.

Izumo was a coastal town, with cliff sides to the north, and a long, thin strip of beach to the west. When the three of them stepped out of the car, they were glad they brought thick coats, as there was a cold breeze.

“Come on Buddy!” Eiji said as he opened the car door. The dog jumped out of the car, wagging his tail happily.

The beach was an important place in Izumo, something Aslan had learned shortly after he moved. On the northern shore of the beach, there was a very large rock with a small shrine on top, too high for humans to reach. Every October, the gods would come to Izumo, and convene at the beach and its shrine.

Aside from it being a spiritual place, the beach was also just beautiful. It reminded Aslan of when he was younger, when he and Griffin would run across the sand and splash in the waves. Sometimes, when he and Eiji would take a walk along the beach, they would see children or a family, and he would feel a bit of nostalgia.

Now, he walked this beach with his new family.

It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was low in the sky. They were only planning for it to be a relatively short walk, and would return to the car not long after the sun fully set. It was just nice to get some fresh air.

The trio walked in silence, aside from Buddy’s pants, until Aslan broke it.

“You know, Mari, you got a pretty interesting fortune this year,” he said.

Eiji caught on to what he meant. “Yeah! Are you excited for it?”

“For the future fortune? I guess so. It’s better than I get most years,” she said.

“No no, I mean about your romance fortune,” Aslan smiled.

Mari became slightly flustered, glaring at the couple. They just laughed in response.

“You should really get back out there again,” Eiji teased, “You’re not still heartbroken over Yui are you?”

Mari lightly punched her brother in the side.

“Of course not! That was the beginning of high school! Butt out of my love life!”

“But you, dear sister, are the one that butted into my love life when I went to America.”

“I shall have you know, dear brother, that I have matured since then. Besides, the charm I gave you worked, didn’t it?”

Eiji looked over at Aslan with a smile and squeezed his hand.

“Yeah. It did.”

The sun had begun to set at this point, halfway across the horizon. It was a beautiful sight, soft pinks and reds across the sky. The three stopped to admire it, Buddy sitting beside them.

“I think this is a moment worth capturing,” Eiji said. He got the polaroid camera from around his neck. They all posed close together, Aslan picking up Buddy so he could be in the shot, with the sunset in the background.

“Smile!”

Click.

The photo printed slowly, and Eiji shook it so it could develop faster.

It showed the four of them, happy in smiling, in the place they loved so much. They waited for the sun to set fully before returning home.

Instantly, the photo went up on their wall.

Unfortunately, the fourth eventually came, and Mari had to leave. At the train station, they said their goodbyes.

“Be sure to write!” Eiji said as she waved.

“I always do!”

With that, the train doors closed, and she left Izumo. Since it was the first day of the new year that businesses were open, Aslan decided he might as well go run some errands.

“See you at home,” he said as he pecked Eiji on the cheek.

“Mhm, see you.” Eiji waved goodbye to him.

The first stop was the coffee shop. Why not, right? It was a very cozy little shop and the majority of the patrons were locals and regulars. When the barista noticed him, he smiled.

“The usual?”

Aslan nodded, and the barista got to work. The coffee shop was relatively small compared to those in America, and it was warmly lit. As Aslan sat at the counter watching the barista he felt the chill of the mid-winter weather.

“Here’s your coffee,” the barista said as he placed the mug in front of Aslan. Most people see Aslan as the type of person to drink straight black coffee. And for a while, he was. As soon as he was “old enough” to drink coffee, he would drink it without sugar or creamer. It fit the persona he had and made him seem more mature to those around him. Now he didn’t care about any of that. He made his coffee super sweet. Tons of sugar, tons of creamer, because that was the way he actually liked it.

Usually, he would take the time to stay and chat with the barista for a bit. He was a funny and friendly guy, most of the reason Aslan liked this coffee shop in particular. However, today he had the odd urge to get home as much as possible. Maybe it was just because of the chill, he thought.

The next stop was the grocery store. They only really needed things to replace what they had used to cook dinner on New Years, including the flour that they had wasted.

He absentmindedly went through the small store until a voice called out to him from behind.

“My dear Aslan!”

He turned around to see his neighbor, Mrs. Tanaka. She was an old woman, kind as can be like almost everyone else in the neighborhood, who loved to garden in her front lawn and chat him up whenever she saw him. Aslan greeted her back and smiled.

“How have you been? How’s Eiji? Did you have a good new year?”

“Everything is good. How was your trip?”

The two chatted for a bit, catching up on things that happened since the last time they talked. Most of his neighbors he could strike up a conversation with just like this. It was the kind of neighborhood he could see himself and Eiji growing old in. It was a weird thought, to grow old with someone in a small town, but it was right.

They said their goodbyes, and Aslan continued shopping as normal.

When Aslan came home, the front door was unlocked. Huh. Maybe Eiji just forgot. However, when he opened the door, he was met with a horrible sight.

There lay Buddy, unmoving, in a pool of blood.

Aslan dropped his bags and rushed to his dear pet. He picked him up gently as tears began to fall.

How did this even happen? When? Why wasn’t he here to stop it?

That’s when he saw it. The wound on Buddy’s neck. A bullet wound. Someone… shot Buddy. There was no way. He was supposed to be safe in Japan. He was supposed to be safe with Eiji. Eiji... “Eiji!” he shouted. No response. He shouted again. The house was silent. Aslan gently placed down Buddy’s body. He had to make sure Eiji was okay. Eiji had to be okay, right?

Aslan crept through the house silently, listening for any sounds that might lead him towards Eiji or the intruder. As he approached the kitchen, he saw a pot on the stove bubbling over, so he turned off the stove. This whole thing must have happened fairly recently. A knife was also missing from the drawer.

Finally, he made his way to the bedroom.

What he saw terrified him.

Eiji. Sprawled across the floor, next to the open closet doors as if he had been pulled out, a knife in his hand. A bullet in his forehead. His eyes were wide open, and his cheeks were stained with tears.

Ash fell to his knees. This couldn’t be happening. Eiji couldn’t be dead. He was dreaming, he was hallucinating, this was some kind of joke. What separated him from his old life now? What stopped him from being Ash Lynx again?

Ash sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed. His love had been murdered. The bastard shot his dog, too. Why? He didn’t do anything. Neither of them did anything. It wasn’t fair.

He reached into the closet and pulled out a small box. Inside was a silver engagement ring. He picked up Eiji’s greying, cold hand and slipped the ring onto his finger.

“I know that we could never get married legally. But I still wanted to think of you as my husband. After all we had been through, didn’t we deserve that much?”

Eiji didn’t respond. His glossed-over eyes stared at nothing. Ash closed them.

“My soul will always be with you.”

--------

This might turn into a chaptered fic

Thank you to @syanara for betaing!

Tag list: @mycatshuman

#banana fish #banana fish fanfiction #ash lynx #aslan jade callenreese #eiji okumura #tw death #tw murder #tw guns #tw animal death #tw dog death

[writesowhatnext]

lost in translation // george weasley

Summary: George and the reader are rather… close. Fred and Ginny are very, very suspicious as to why they weren’t informed that their best friends were together.

Request: Could you write a George Weasley imagine with the couple trope "what is personal space" with a reader who is the Golden Trio's age and friend and Ginny's best friend? Thank you!

A/N: I tried so, so hard to get George to right character-wise so I really hope I did him some justice here and I really hope you like it my love – sorry it’s essentially Christmas themed

Reader: female

Warnings: none I think – very PG! Maybe British swears? A common theme I suppose… kissing?

Anyone would’ve thought you and George Weasley were dating. It was an easy assumption to make given how absolutely inseparable you were. No one knew exactly how you got so close; only last Christmas, at the Burrow, Ginny brought you home for the holiday. Somehow you went from rolling your eyes at the pranks and the schemes and the inventions in December to smiling and laughing in January. Though, there were still eye rolls when required. Honestly, Ginny and Fred were rather put out by it.

“Hey, Gin?” Fred asked, leaning forward on the desk she’d been scribbling her Charms homework on.

“What?” Ginny said suspiciously, eyes narrowed. She smudged her words with the side of her hand. Fred wasn’t paying attention, though, he was staring at the sofa in the centre of the Gryffindor common room.

George was sat at one end, face lit up like a Christmas tree and you were, well, practically sitting on him. You were facing him, knees folding into your chest and feet tucked neatly under George’s legs. His one arm was spread along the back of the sofa whilst the other he used to gesture wildly, sending you both into hysterical laughter. Fred enjoyed seeing his twin laugh like that, his head tilted back with his whole body shaking, but this was taking the piss a little.

Ginny followed Fred’s eyes to the couch.

“What is that about?” Fred rested his head on his hand.

“Y/N and George?”

Fred nodded.

“I don’t know.” She admitted, copying her brother and smudging ink across her parchment with her elbow. “All they seem to do is spend time together.”

“I’ll say. We haven’t pranked anyone in a month.” He huffed. “A whole bloody month. We have a reputation to upkeep, you know.”

“They’re so close to each other, too.”

“Too close.”

“Last week,” Ginny said, casting a glance at the way you hit George’s leg, laughing at a joke he’d made, before turning to face her quite grumpy looking brother. “I came here after Potions and they were comparing hand sizes.”

Fred’s expression turned to one of distaste. It only worsened as George pushed you off the sofa. You grabbed his arm as you fell, pulling him next to you on the ground, both your legs tangled in the air.

“Fred, you don’t think they fancy each other, do you?”

“Fancy each other?” He looked incredulously at his brother. Experiencing all five stages of grief simultaneously, he frowned. “They would’ve told us, right?”

Ginny didn’t reply.

“I think it’s time for some investigating.” Fred’s grin was wicked.

You’d got very used to George touching you. He was a very affectionate person, always with the hugs and the arms and the hands. It was hard not to enjoy it, actually, because George was tall and incredibly funny. He was a genius, too; not that he’d ever let his professors know that. His laugh was infectious and you couldn’t help but bite your lip when he rolled his sleeves up the way he did. These thoughts were ones that often distracted you in the recent weeks. You didn’t know what had started it, exactly, but you knew you were definitely a little bit lost in whatever it was you felt for him. Right now, you were lost in the middle of Charms, ignoring whatever Flitwick was saying. If you’d been paying more attention, you would’ve noticed the strange way Ginny was staring at you. It wasn’t until Flitwick set you off to practice your spells that you were even remotely aware of what was happening.

“Y/N,” Ginny said, uncharacteristically softly for her.

You hummed.

“Are you going out with my brother?”

You turned to face her then, looking at her determined expression. “George? No.”

She nodded slowly, frowning. “Why?”

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time together. The only time Fred sees him nowadays is at Quidditch practice and even that’s cancelled for the holidays.”

You couldn’t help but feel bad for hogging her brother. Fred must hate you, you thought.

“We’re not going out.”

“But you want to?”

“What?”

She sent you a dry look.

“Maybe.” You sighed, rubbing your eye with your hand. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“And why’s that?”

You smiled at her hard expression, how bold she was, how bright her eyes were. Your smile fell.

“Well it’s not like he fancies me, is it?”

Ginny got a sharp reprimand from Flitwick for how loudly she laughed.

George, on the other hand, was much less confused about the whole situation. He had been, at least, before a choice conversation with Fred.

“George, do you fancy Y/N?” Fred asked, deciding a surprise attack in the corridor after breakfast was the best line of attack. His approach returned strange results. George laughed as he reshuffled his books in his hands.

“I should hope I do, you daft sod, she’s my girlfriend.”

“Your what?” Fred stopped in the hallway, ignoring the mutterings of students unfortunate enough to have been behind him. “You prat! Why didn’t you tell me?”

He caught up to George, hitting him in the shoulder.

“Bloody hell, Fred, I thought it was quite obvious.” George rubbed his arm with a wounded expression written across his face. “What do you care, anyway?” His face turned mocking. “Jealous?”

“Oh, shut up.” Fred murmured. “I’ll have to tell Ginny.”

“Ginny doesn’t know? They’re best mates.”

“Weird, right?”

It wasn’t until class ended that Fred found Ginny again. You and her were chatting in the corner of the common room, laughing and bickering about something or other.

“Hello ladies.” George said as the twins drew closer. “Raising any hell today?”

His eyes lingered on you.

“No more than usual.” Ginny drawled, folding her arms. “I’m sure you have a miraculously terrible plan up your sleeves, though.”

“Ah, dear sister.” George said, looking to his brother who had lit up significantly since last time Ginny had seen him.

“Just you wait and see what we have in store.” Fred’s grin only grew.

“There’ll be lights,”

“Smells,”

“Sensations beyond your wildest imagination.”

“It’ll be wicked.” They said in unison, smirking at you in front of them. You and Ginny shared a dry and wordless look.

“Anyway,” George said, offering you his hand. “I owe Y/N a trip to the kitchens to thank her for her wonderful Potions expertise. See you at dinner, you two.”

You glanced at Ginny before letting yourself be dragged along, hand in George’s warm palm.

Fred waited till you were out of earshot before pouncing on the chair opposite Ginny you’d just abandoned and leaning over the table.

“They’re going out!” he said at the very time Ginny said “They’re not going out.”

“What?” they said at the same time, again.

Ginny shushed him.

“What do you mean? She said they’re not going out?”

“He said they were!”

They both paused for a moment.

“Mind you,” Fred hummed. “Do you think George ever asked her?”

Ginny mused on it. “Very like him to just assume they were an item.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Christmas dinner in the hall was no less fun that usual; full of laughing and cheer and the general merriment you get at this time of year. It wasn’t till it was time to go to bed that anything remotely notable happened. Well, other than the exploding stink jellies Fred & George had planted as dessert

“Y/N’s staying over Christmas. Ginny invited her.” George said as him and Fred packed their suitcases, at the last minute of course. Fred nodded.

“George,” he said, standing up straight. “Did you ever actually ask Y/N to be your girlfriend?”

“What?”

“Did you actually ask her or did you just assume she knew, like me?”

George quite resembled a fish, the way his mouth was opening and closing.

“I think you might want to ask her, mate.”

You were confused, to say the least, and also slightly hurt. George hadn’t so much as talked to you since you’d arrived at the Burrow. He hadn’t touched you either; which was more of an adjustment than you were prepared for. There was something obviously wrong with him because he was quiet. Even with Fred at his usual eccentric volume, the absence of George’s voice was somehow louder. You’d asked Ginny about it but she had no idea. Fred did, though, you suspected. That’s why, when George disappeared into the kitchen before bed, you followed like a somewhat lost puppy. It was almost as if he was waiting for you, leaning against the counter with a glass of water.

“Are you okay, Georgie?”

He didn’t say again as you walked closer, your hand skimming the side of his arm as you stood in front of him. He let your hand fall into his own, fingers interlocking.

“I like being close to you.” He said sombrely, completely out of character. You looked up at him, frowning slightly.

“I feel like a right prat, actually,” he barked out a laugh. “I thought we were going out.”

“What?” you asked, voice sliding up on octave. You could feel your cheeks heat up and hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Me and you?”

He lifted your hand, moving his fingers back and looking at the size of your hand compared to his. You stared at him but his eyes never left your hand.

“Would that be so bad?” he asked, finally meeting your eyes. You’d never seen him so vulnerable. A small smile pulled at your lips as you stepped in between his feet.

“George Weasley, are you asking me out?” you placed your free hand on his shoulder. “Because,” your mouth twitched “If you are,” his free hand found your waist. “You are doing a horrible job, truly.”

“Oh, is that right?” He asked, smiling now himself. He tilted his head downwards. You bit your lip as you nodded.

“Yep. A girl hopes for fireworks, roses, big grand gestures-“ You rocked your head to the side. “I get an ‘I already thought we were-“

“You are talking rubbish.” He whispered, unable to contain the way his smile lifted his cheeks.

And then he was kissing you. Slowly, softly. Your hands loosened. His dropped to your waist, pulling you closer as yours dragged up his chest, winding around his neck. You scratched the back of his neck lightly and he made an indecent noise in your mouth. He pulled away all too soon, resting his forehead on yours. Neither of you could hide your smiles. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pursing your lips.

“If you want fireworks, I’ll light you fireworks in every room of the castle.”

“Oh, I know you will.”

“One condition though.” He smirked, pulling you to his chest as you raised your eyebrows. “Be my girlfriend.”

You laughed.

“Have to get it in writing now, don’t I? Don’t want to look like a git again.”

“Oh, we are far past that.”

“You cheeky-“

You didn’t let him finish, only moving in for another kiss.

That was until you were interrupted by two very smug looking redheads.

“So,” Fred smiled, crossing his arms and leaning against the fridge.

“You two going out yet?” Ginny asked, shooting you a pointed glance, a small smile playing on her face.

“Oh, piss off.” George huffed, rolling his eyes and cupping your cheek with his hand. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss when you heard gagging noises from the doorway.

#Harry Potter imagine #harry potter #imagine #writing #george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader

[amintyworld]

Goodbye - (SBI Inc.) World War II AU

A/N: Hey guys! So... this is actually part of a bunch of fics I was making for some of my mutuals, and at first, I wanted to post them together, but I soon realized with my own creativity and motivation, not to mention constant burnout, it was more just wishful thinking.

This fic is a gift for my friend and mutual, Cam (@bones-sprouts)! They're an awesome person for me to rant to about AUs or other fic ideas, so if you can check out their awesome blog and give a follow if you'd like. I hope you enjoy it because I'm actually really proud of how this turned out! <3 - Minty

Edit: Forgot Taglist.

Summary: Phil works in the coal factories, his wife Kristen with the sewing machines. No matter how hard they work, there never seems to be enough money. What will happen when a World War rises on the horizon?

TW: Bomb mention, Implied death mention, injury (No blood or gore tho). (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

-------------------------

Phil remembered when it was all just rumors. After all, one couldn’t help but get bored within the tedious factory jobs. Hauling coal from one place to another, scooping it into the fireplaces - minds always began to drift. Gossip was whispered with bated breath under watchful eyes. Phil had heard it all - some true, most of them, however... complete fibs. He guessed that’s why he didn’t believe it at first when there were talks of war. There were always talks of war, but after the World War a while back, Phil thought it was stupid anyone would dare try to repeat it. The leaders were smarter than that, he thought to himself.

Besides, he had other things to worry about. Wilbur needed a new winter coat for the season. He’d been going through another growth spurt over the summer and had, unfortunately, outgrew his one from last year. They’d been saving to buy a new one, and his old one was given to his younger brother, Tommy. Funnily enough, the coat was extremely big and baggy on the ten-year-old, so much so he kept tripping and falling to the floor. Kristen kept pinning it up, though it never seemed to help much. He remembered one night telling Wilbur with a chuckle he was getting too tall and Tommy was getting too small. Tommy had grumbled angrily in a way only small children could do, puffing his chest out and proclaiming himself a ‘big man’. Kristen had smiled and laughed throughout it all, and when Tommy yawned she picked him up and carried him off to bed.

Money was always a tight issue, but Phil had the wisdom never to bring it up in front of his sons. Instead, he talked about stories of adventure-seeking pirates or brave warriors in hushed tones at night when the roof began to leak and they huddled together in thin blankets during the winter. Phil’s heart always swelled when Tommy’s eyes would light up in curiosity at the stories, at another world full of hope and things that Phil could only wish to provide them. One day, he promised himself, one day he would give them everything they deserved. Everything they’d wished for upon stars or whispered to themselves at night when they thought no one was listening. One day.

Phil remembered once when Wilbur was not much older than Tommy, he’d asked him if he could work with him in the factories. They had barely been able to afford the school fee that year, and Wilbur had started school a month behind his classmates because of it. When Phil had quickly tried to dismiss the idea Wilbur’s mouth had pressed in a thin line.

‘I can do it, Dad. Let me do it. I want to help.’

Phil’s hand had absentmindedly moved to trace around the scar in his calloused palm. When he first started, the manager put him near the machines, with the task to flip the lever and run them when the ribbon was on target. He flipped the switch before realizing it wasn’t on target, and when he moved the ribbon - the machine was merciless. He’d thought about Wil doing that, the machines, hauling pounds of coal up a hill, and he realized that he’d rather die working in the factories than accept the help. The money wouldn’t be worth it, the money would never be worth his life. Never in a million years.

No matter what, he’d always protect them. That was never a question on Phil’s mind.

When the orders came there was never any doubt about what he needed to do. There was never any hesitation. They needed to be safe. They needed to survive. When he told Kristen he held back tears, but his wife knew him better than anyone, cutting him off with a small loving embrace. Emotion welled up in Phil’s throat as he returned the hug, and the two stood in their cramped dining room like that for a while, the opened letter left scattered on the stained wooden table. Phil’s gaze drifted toward the couch where the two boys lay sprawled on top of each other, covered by a single blanket, asleep. For a moment, just a moment, Phil wanted to keep them like that forever - blissfully in that perfect moment of peace. But, Phil couldn’t do anything. A war was coming.

“We’ll get through this together.” Kristen had promised him. Phil hoped she was right.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The train howled in the distance. Millions of families rushed to and fro on the platform, volunteers and teachers hoisted the smaller children into the train. Conductors shouted, and the entire train platform was bathed in a large gust of steam. In the middle of all the chaos stood Phil, Kristen, and their two children.

“Okay boys, let’s go through this one more time,” Phil said, getting down more on their level, and trying his best to maintain a smile. “When you get on the train, stay in your seats. Make sure not to lose your bags, and try not to cause any trouble. Listen to the volunteers, yeah?” Wilbur nodded, and Phil noticed Tommy looking around in curiosity at all those passing by. He snapped his fingers, turning the ten-year-old’s attention back on him. “Tommy?”

“Uh-huh?”

“What did I just say?”

“Uhm… don’t pull any pranks?”

“Yes, don’t cause any trouble, Tommy. This is serious. There’s a lot of people, I don’t want you to get lost okay?”

“Okay.”

Phil looked over at his oldest, clutching the suitcase in his hands tightly, a tag around his neck matching his brothers’. He’d been quiet since Phil had told them both the situation a day ago, and rushed off to help Phil get everything they needed from the list - they barely afforded getting the essentials. Money saved up for Wilbur’s new coat went to bars of soap, stockings, slippers, and handkerchiefs. Phil had given Wilbur his own, saying he’d be fine without one for the winter and they’d be able to afford another in no time. “Look out for him, alright?” While the two shared a brief moment together, Kristen was leaning down toward the child, spotting a bit of dirt on his cheek she was determined to get rid of. Tommy protested and squirmed from her grip as she smiled, holding back as laugh and keeping him still. Wilbur looked over at the two, smiling fondly.

“I will, Dad. I promise.”

Phil couldn’t help but be overcome with pride for his eldest, a small smile on his face. He grew up way too fast - where was that small boy who was always propped up on his shoulders and sang beautiful songs deep into the night, eyes shining with happiness? There were still traces of that same glimmer in Wilbur’s eyes, signs that those dreams and that hope were still alive, and to Phil that was all that mattered. He grew and became so responsible, so capable of anything and everything. At that moment, seeing him, he remembered that strong feeling of pride. Phil had every confidence in him, no matter what the future might hold.

He reached into his coat pocket for the letter, before taking in his eldest for what would be the last time for a while. His hand lightly brushed through that curly brown hair that always fell over his eyes, moving down to cup his cheek and look into those dark eyes that were so much like his mother’s - deep pools of infinite. “I hope you know how much I love you, Wilbur.”

“I do… I mean,” Wilbur stumbled, looking down at the ground. “I..I know, Dad.”

Phil nodded, pressing a small kiss to his son’s forehead. “Good.” He handed out the folded piece of paper with a name scribbled on it - Technoblade. “You’ll be staying with an old friend of mine, he knows me well and I trust him. Be on your best behavior.”

“Right,” Wilbur confirmed, looking over the name for a moment before sliding the piece of paper in his bag. “Does he... know we’re coming?”

“Well, uhm… no…?”

“No?”

“Just give him the letter, it’ll explain everything. He owes me.”

Tommy rushed over, seemingly running from Kristen who simply giggled. “Papa!” Phil’s smile widened at the exchange.

“Come here you little squirt!” Phil’s heart lit up as he scooped up the smaller child in his arms, Tommy laughing with a playful shriek as he did so. “What’s wrong, mate?”

“Mama keeps scrubbing my face, it hurts!” Tommy accused, to which Kristen rolled her eyes with a smile.

“You’ve got dirt all over your face, honey-”

The train howled once more, sending all of them to silence. One of the conductors at the train car around ten or so feet from them shouted: “All aboard! All aboard who’s coming aboard!” Phil looked between the two of them.

“Let’s get you two settled, yeah?” They passed through the crowd toward the conductor. At this point many of the parents were already gone or standing a far distance from the track itself, seeing their children off. He slowly lowered Tommy off his hip and into the step. “I’ve got two kids here for the train, they’ve got their cards and items.” Phil gently moved Wilbur in front of him as he spoke. The man, in a bit of a hurry, snatched Tommy’s tag, almost making the child lose his balance as he glanced at it. Phil heaved Tommy’s shoulder bag, packed with things, into the steps with him. “He’s good. You had another?”

“Yes, my oldest, Wilbur. Please make sure, if you can find them a seat together.” The conductor looked Wilbur over before checking his tag as well.

“Will do, but I don’t make any promises.” He nodded at the tag. “He’s a good chap too. Let’s go, we’ve got a schedule.”

Tommy hugged his father around the neck. “Love you Papa. Love you Mama.”

“Love you, Toms.” Phil smiled, as Kristen leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, making the smaller child giggle. Wilbur was already picking up his younger brother’s things and sliding the bag over his shoulder.

“Bye!” Tommy waved as he followed behind the conductor.

“Bye.” Wilbur waved behind him. “I love you.”

And… just like that, they were gone. Phil held Kristen’s hands as they watched their two sons leave in a cloud of steam, chugging away toward the countryside. Going someplace safe. Kristen began to tear up and Phil held her close in comfort. Now, it was a waiting game of fate. A waiting game for the foretold bomb. A waiting game to die.

—————————

General Writing Taglist (LMK if you want to be added/removed):

@bones-sprouts

@foolishcaptains

@benzel

#sleepy bois au #sleepy boys inc #sleepy bois family #sleepy bois fanfic #young sleepy bois inc #sbi #sleepy bois drabble #sleepy bois hurt/comfort #sleepy bois angst #sleepy bois historic au #historic au #phil and kristen #philza #philza dadza #kristen mumza #wilbur soot #wilbur #tommyinnit #technoblade #my writing

[alexthedrummerboy]

Darkest Before The Dawn

pairing: willex, past luke/alex

summary: "your parents were never cool again after you told them you were gay.” OR an exploration into alex’s past, his family life, and his relationship with religion

essentially this is all one big angsty headcanon

authors note: basically i’ve been thinking about the gold chain alex wears around his neck and i’ve been way overanalysing what it is and i thought - what if it used to be a cross necklace that his devout parents made him wear?? also i’m so desperate for alex to have more backstory that i’m pulling it out of every nook and cranny at this point

trigger warning: homophobia, bad parenting

ao3

It starts when he’s seven. He’d invited Bobby over to his house after school to play, not knowing that his dad had come home from work early. They’re sitting at the dining table, drawing with Alex’s new 36 pack of crayons when he hears it.

“I just think letting him do all that... art stuff is gonna make him...” he hears his dad say to his mom, “...soft. Girly. We already have one daughter, we don’t need another one.”

Alex doesn’t really understand what his Dad means, but he drops the crayon he’s holding and pokes Bobby on the wrist lightly. “I’m bored,” he says quietly, though his picture remains on the table unfinished. “Can we go do somethin’ else?”

Bobby furrows his eyebrows and looks down at his paper. “But... I didn’t finish colouring my dragon.” 

Alex looks at his Dad in the kitchen. He’s still talking to his mom, both of their heads bowed. He has that look on his face that reminds Alex of the time his mom tried to convince them to go vegetarian for a week. “We can finish colouring later... maybe,” he says. “Let’s go play in my room.”

Bobby takes one last look at his drawing but nods, gently folding the piece of paper in half and tucking it into his backpack. “Okay.”

They walk up to Alex’s room together, hand-in-hand like always. They pass the kitchen on the way and Alex’s dad turns his head, scowling deeper when he looks at their hands. Suddenly Alex feels cold all over. 

“Boys,” he says, deep voice booming. “You’re getting a little old to be holding hands, aren’t you?”

Alex lets go of Bobby’s hand immediately and tucks it into his trouser pocket instead, nodding. Bobby looks like he wants to protest but Alex just nudges him and nods towards his room. 

They walk away and Alex tries to brush the experience off. He doesn’t eat much at dinner that night.

---

His dad makes him quit choir the next year. He’s up in his room practicing for the Christmas festival when he hears three quiet knocks. 

“Come in,” he says, closing his music book. His dad walks in, still in his shirt and tie from work. “Oh. Hi, Dad.”

His dad smiles stiffly. “Alex, what are you doing?” 

Alex looks between his dad and his choir book for a moment. “Practicing for the festival,” he says, a smile growing on his face. “Mrs. Carson gave me a solo for the first--”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” his dad says, pursing his lips. “Wouldn’t you be happier... playing a sport or something? What about baseball? You know when your old man was in school, I was a real killer on the pitch.”

Alex’s tongue feels dry in his mouth the longer his dad speaks. He hates baseball. “Um... I-I like choir, though.” His voice is quiet, barely above a breath. His dad sighs and shakes his head. Alex feels an overwhelming sense of anxiety rise inside his chest. He hates disappointing people.

“I’m just worried about you, son,” he says, sitting down on the edge of Alex’s bed. “Okay, maybe not baseball. How about... soccer?”

Alex shuffles around on his chair. He feels like his heart has stopped beating. “Drums,” he mumbles, looking down at his hands. His dad leans closer. 

“Speak up, Alex.”

Alex looks up, clenching his jaw. “I-I wanna learn how to play the drums,” he says. “L-like that guy from The Rolling Stones.”

His dad goes quiet, scratching his chin like he’s thinking about it, before he smiles and nods. He claps Alex on the shoulder hard enough that it makes him wince. “Drums eh? Sure, we’ll get you a kit and you can set it up in the basement.” As he turns to walk out of Alex’s room, he turns and throws him a cheeky smile. “My boy, the drummer. You know they say girls love drummers.”

Alex isn’t sure why, but that comment makes him feel sick. He stares at his closed door for too long after his dad leaves, his thoughts twisting and turning in his mind.

---

When Alex receives his first cross, he’s 12-years-old. He immediately vows never to take it off. It’s a beautiful piece of jewellery; a small gold cross on a solid gold chain. When his mom slips it around his neck, he feels... protected, somehow. Safe. 

His mom smiles at him tearily as she hooks the clasp around his neck, running her hand down the side of his face. “Congratulations, baby,” she says quietly. “You know, my mother gave me my first cross when I was exactly your age. ”

Alex just smiles and tugs on the chain lightly, feeling the cool metal against his thumb and forefinger. “Thanks, mom,” he says quietly, looking down at where it’s dangling against the soft blue of his button down. 

His sister, Andrea, comes from behind him and knocks his shoulder lightly. Her own cross is silver and smaller than his, contrasting against her light skin perfectly. He doesn’t remember when she got hers. She was four years older than him and got hers when he was just a little kid. “Congrats, Lexi,” she says.

His dad comes out of the kitchen, a bottle of champagne in one hand and two flutes in the other. He’s beaming. “This calls for a celebration!”

His mother looks at his dad and tuts quietly, though she still looks pleased. “Michael, it’s barely 9. We have to leave for church soon.”

His dad simply brushes off her worry. “My son is being confirmed, Linda. We’re celebrating.” He kisses her on the cheek and hands her a champagne flute. “It won’t take long.”

He pours himself and Alex’s mother a small amount of champagne and Alex watches, entranced as they cheers and take a sip. His mother and his father lock eyes before handing their glasses to Alex and Andrea, smiling secret smiles. 

“Just this once,” his dad says. “Just one sip.”

Andrea takes the flute immediately and takes a sip. Alex watches her for a moment before taking his dad’s flute and lifting it up to his mouth.

The bubbles fizz and pop in his mouth. The taste is unpleasant, but... the feeling of his dad’s eyes on him, proud and sparkling with happiness make the experience a million times better.

As they drive to church, Alex keeps his hand firmly clasped around his cross, smiling the entire time.

---

Alex receives his first kiss when he’s 14. It happens in his basement with Luke Patterson. He’d invited him over so they could work on a song together. Luke had discovered him playing drums in the music room one day and had instantly recruited him to join his band, alongside Bobby and Reggie Anderson.

They’d long since abandoned practicing any form of music and were lounging on the couch in Alex’s basement, playing video games on his Sega Genesis. He’s so close to beating Luke at Mortal Kombat. They’ve been playing for 45 minutes and Alex has managed to lose every round so far.

But, with a fatal blow, Alex watches his character drop to his knees as Luke’s character poses victoriously. He groans loudly and leans back against the couch, trying his best not to pout as he hears Luke’s laughter next to him. “No fair!” he exclaims, dropping his controller beside him on the couch. 

Luke smirks, boxing Alex in the shoulder lightly. “Not my fault I’m better at this game than you are,” he says. He’s leaning towards Alex, his face mere inches away from his shoulder. “I’m just naturally skilled.”

Alex blushes and shuffles away from him, leaning into the arm rest and trying to ignore his heart as it pounds away in his chest. “Naturally ugly, more like,” he mumbles. It’s not the best comeback, but he can’t really focus right now.

Luke laughs anyway, punching Alex’s arm again and turning back to face the TV. Neither of them speak for a moment but Alex can feel the air thicken with a strange tension that he’s never felt before.

His hand automatically comes up to grip his cross, the edges of the metal digging into his palm. He takes a short breath in and out, feeling the cold metal warm up in his hand. 

He feels Luke’s eyes on him and he turns. There’s a small smile on Luke’s face that Alex can’t help but return. “What?” he asks.

Luke shrugs. “Nothin’,” he says softly.

Then, he leans in closer. Alex does not pull away.

Before he even realises what’s happening, they’re kissing. It’s chaste and completely innocent; a light press of lips against lips. Alex can tell that Luke hasn’t bothered to put on chapstick in his entire 14 years of life, but he tastes vaguely of grape bubblegum and iced tea. It’s nice. 

As they kiss, he feels his grip on his cross loosen until his hand falls completely slack, landing on top of Luke’s hand where it’s resting on a cushion.

They’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps against carpeted stairs. Alex jumps out of his seat and lands on the floor in front of the couch. Luke loses his balance and falls after him, landing face first in the couch cushion where Alex had just been sitting.

The basement door opens and Andrea pokes her head through, holding two capri suns and a bowl full of chips. She sees Alex on the floor and furrows her eyebrows. “Why are you on the ground?”

Alex clears his throat and blinks down at his knees, trying to hide his shaking hands. “Um... it-it’s more comfortable down here,” he mumbles. 

Andrea shrugs and walks in, placing the bowl of chips and the drinks on the coffee table. “Mom told me to give these to you.” She looks between the TV and the two of them. “I thought you guys were practicing.”

“We were!” Luke says, standing up and walking over to where his guitar is resting on the other side of the room. “We took a quick video game break, but we’re ready to get back to work. Right, Alex?”

Alex nods, but he can’t stand back up. “Right,” he says breathlessly, giving Andrea a weak smile. “Thanks for the snacks.”

Andrea nods, but she looks suspicious. She walks out of the room and shuts the door behind her. Alex doesn’t exhale until her footsteps have retreated completely. He breathes out shakily and draws his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. 

“Hey,” Luke says, running to Alex’s side. His hand hovers above Alex’s back before resting just behind him on the couch. “You okay?”

It takes a minute, but eventually Alex nods and looks up at Luke. “Yeah,” he replies, though his hands are still balled into tight fists. “I’m good.”

Luke nods, his hand tightening and loosening its grip on the couch cushion a few times. “Was that... weird?” he asks quietly. Alex has never heard him sound this unsure before. 

He shakes his head, a small smile growing on his face. “No,” he says quietly, and he means it too. “I don’t think so, anyway.”

Luke nods again, smiling brightly at Alex. “Okay. Cool.”

“Can we not... tell anyone? About that?” He asks quietly, looking up at Luke, eyes pleading. “I-I don’t know if I’m... if that...”

“Alex, of course,” Luke says earnestly, finally reaching over and resting his hand in Alex’s shoulder. “It’ll be just between us.”

Alex nods, smiling weakly. “Cool. Thanks.”

He feels mildly comforted by Luke’s words, but he can’t help the anxiety that grows in his stomach. He stands up and walks over to his kit, sitting down at his stool and twirling his drumstick in his hand.

When he closes his eyes that night, snuggled up in his bed, all he can think about are warm lips and iced tea.

---

He comes out at 16.

It doesn’t go well.

His mom cries like he’s just told her he died... but what makes him more anxious is his dad’s reaction.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares at Alex with that those hard, light eyes. He doesn’t even look angry, he just looks... disappointed.

“Dad?” he says quietly. The word gets caught in his throat.

His dad breathes in slowly and stands up. He walks out of the living room shaking his head. Alex watches him go until he’s completely out of sight. All he can hear are his mothers sobs. All he can feel is the weight of his guilt pressing down on him.

His cross feels like it’s burning his skin through the fabric of his t-shirt. Suddenly it feels like he’s wearing a ten pound weight around his neck. It’s hard to swallow.

He wants to comfort his mom, but he doesn’t even know what he would say. What could he say that wouldn’t make everything worse?

So, he stands up and takes one last look at his mom before walking down the hall. He passes Andrea on the way to the basement. She looks at him and then toward the living room where they can both hear their mother’s sobs. 

“What’s wrong with mom?” she asks, placing a hand on his elbow. The touch burns. 

Alex opens his mouth to speak but the words he wants to say get stuck in his throat. He brushes past her, ignoring her questions and running down the stairs to the basement and shutting the door behind him.

He sits down behind his drums and raises his hand to clasp his necklace, holding it so tightly his hand begins to hurt. He can’t cry. He thinks if he could, then maybe he’d feel better, but... the tears won’t come.

So, he lets go of his cross and picks up his sticks instead, twirling the left one in his hand a few times before hitting his high tom once, hard. It feels good, but the feeling doesn’t last long.

Eventually, he loses himself in the rhythm, hitting each drum harder than the last. He forgets for a moment; forgets about the disaster that had happened just minutes ago upstairs. He pauses for a minute to catch his breath but finds his mind wandering; is his mother still crying? Why hadn’t his dad said anything?

He shakes the thought free before pounding on his drums again. He’s not even beating out a rhythm now; he’s just trying to fill the space with noise to keep his thoughts out.

He’s interrupted when the door opens. It's his dad, holding an empty duffel bag, a somber expression on his face. Alex raises his eyebrows and takes his earplugs out of his ears. “Dad?”

His dad winces when Alex speaks, throwing the empty duffel bag onto the floor. “Pack your things.”

All the blood drains from Alex’s face and he stands up on shaky legs. He’s gripping his drumsticks so tightly, it’s a miracle that the wood doesn’t fuse with his skin. “Wh-where’re we goin’?” he asks, though he has a suspicion. 

“We aren’t going anywhere, son,” his dad says. His eyes are on the carpet. He can’t even look at Alex. “Your mother and I... we can’t have you staying in this house.”

“What?!”

“If you’re going to choose to live with your... affliction,” he spits out the word like it’s poison; and in his dad’s mind, perhaps it is, “then it won’t do to have you living here, corrupting us with your ungodly temptations.”

“Dad--”

His father holds up a hand. “I’ll give you 15 minutes to get your things and leave.” He turns to leave the basement but Alex calls him back.

“Where am I supposed to go?” he asks, voice cracking as he tries to fight the tears that threaten to run down his cheeks. He knows crying will only make him more upset. His father doesn’t turn around.

“You can figure that out on your own.” Then, he walks out. Alex is alone. After a few moments, he walks out from behind his drums and picks up the. empty bag with weak hands and walks up to his room. 

He’s working on autopilot as he shoves clothes and shoes and random items (when will he ever need his model robot?) into the bag until it’s almost full to bursting. He drops the bag on his bed and stares at it. He can’t hear anything; all the sounds around him are dull, muted almost. 

He turns around and catches a glimpse of his reflection in his bedroom mirror. He still looks the same as he had that morning when he’d gotten dressed for school. There are still drawings on the back of his hand in blue and black ink from third period when Bobby and Luke decided to draw on him in lieu of paying attention to what Mr. Peters was saying.

Remarkably, he looks the same... but he couldn’t be more different. 

Alex’s eyes drop to the necklace around his neck. It almost hurts to look at now. He’d done well by his vow; hadn’t ever taken it off, even when Jeremy Matthews teased him about it (and received a firm smack on the head from Reggie).

Shakily, he lifts his hands and unclasps the necklace, holding onto the chain so tight that the links begin to make grooves in his skin. He takes hold of the cross and swallows thickly, looking at his warped reflection in the surface of it. 

He slowly slides the cross off of the chain and places it on his nightstand. The chain, though, he keeps though he doesn’t really know why. He puts the chain back around his neck. It feels bare without the cross on it weighing it down, but... Alex finds he kind of likes it. 

With that, he picks up his duffel bag and walks out of his room. He can hear the quiet sound of scraping cutlery against ceramic and he winces. They’d started dinner without him. 

As he walks towards the front door, he passes the dining table. When she hears his footsteps, Andrea looks up from her untouched plate of food and stands up. Alex shakes his head silently at her, gripping his bag strap tighter.

His parents don’t even look up. He gives Andrea a half-hearted smile and a wave before walking out the front door. He doesn’t bother taking his keys with him; he knows he won’t need to use them again.

The cold, night air smacks him right in the face as soon as he closes the door behind him. Then, without a second glance, he leaves and begins the short trek to Bobby’s house.

---

“So, I was wondering...” 

Willie turns to Alex and smiles at him, squeezing his hand gently. “Yeah?”

They’ve been walking down the pier together in comfortable silence for almost 15 minutes, but the question bubbles up in Alex’s chest before he can control himself.

Alex looks down at their interlaced fingers before gesturing towards the necklace around Willie’s neck. “What’s that key around your neck for?”

At the mention of his necklace, Willie wraps his hand around the key and gives it a light tug with his free hand. If Alex notices how Willie’s slowed their walking pace slightly, he doesn’t say anything. 

“It’s my house key,” he says softly. Alex parts his lips in surprise. “When I was a kid, I... I was pretty irresponsible. I was always losing things in random places. My mom used to tell me I’d lose my arms if they weren’t attached to my shoulders.” The smile on his face makes Alex want to cry. “When my folks gave me my first house key, it felt like I was finally growing up. I was so scared I would lose it, so I bought a chain. I’ve worn it around my neck ever since.”

“Even after...” Alex doesn’t continue his train of thought but Willie understands regardless. He nods.

“When I woke up after the accident, it was actually the first thing I reached for,” Willie says quietly, gripping Alex’s hand like a lifeline. “Force of habit, I guess.” 

“Have you ever tried to visit your place?” Alex asks quietly, steering Willie towards the edge of the pier so they can sit by the water. Willie nods.

“A couple times. After I died, I didn’t visit for months. It hurt too much.” He pauses, looking out over the water as he scoots closer to Alex until their shoulders are pressed together. “I visited them for the first time a year after I’d died. I couldn’t go in. I was too scared, so I just watched from the windows like a total creeper.” There’s a chuckle in Willie’s voice that astounds Alex. He doesn’t know how he can be so cheerful even while talking about something so heartbreaking. “My family moved sometime around ‘89. I haven’t tried to find them since.”

Alex nods, listening to the sound of the crashing waves and seagulls as they fly overhead. He doesn’t feel pressured to comfort Willie at all. He thinks that telling him his story might’ve upset Alex more than it upset him. Instead, he rubs his knuckles with his thumb slowly, his finger savouring the feel of every dip and crevice. 

“What about you?” Willie asks suddenly, turning to Alex. There’s a smile in his eye that Alex never wants to look away from. “Is that gold chain around your neck a remnant from your gangster rap phase, or...?”

Alex laughs brightly, throwing his head back. He can feel Willie laughing too, his shoulders bouncing up and down with every giggle. He stops and breathes out quietly, looking down at his chain and hooking his finger through it. 

“Um... there used to be a cross hanging from it,” he says. “My parents got it for me for my confirmation when I was 12. I basically didn’t take it off for five years.” 

Willie pauses, shuffles closer; almost as if he can tell what’s coming next. He doesn’t say anything, though, and somehow that makes it easier for Alex to keep going.

“When I came out, my parents um... they weren’t very cool about it,” he says, tugging a little harder on the chain. “My dad kicked me out.” Willie’s grip on his hand tightens and Alex lets out a breath. “When I was leaving, I took the cross off. It didn’t seem right to keep it after...” he clears his throat. “I kept the chain. I’m still not really sure why... I’ve been thinking about it ever since I left home. I think it’s just... a reminder of why I left and what I have now.”

Willie smiles, bumping their shoulders together. “What do you have now?”

He looks at Willie and find that he can’t control the smile that’s growing on his face either. Under the setting sun, Willie looks so beautiful; his tanned skin practically glowing and long dark hair moving with the breeze. He leans in and brushes a gentle kiss against the side of his lips. He feels Willie’s hand come up to cup his cheek and he leans into the touch. 

They pull away from each other after a few seconds and Alex smiles again, resting their foreheads together. 

“Freedom.”

#alex jatp #willex #willie jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #owen patrick joyner #booboo stewart #writing tag

[electrictoes]

All We Are

For @dailysvu’s Sonny Carisi Week

Day 4:  “What is this between us?  Relationship: Amanda Rollins  / Sonny Carisi​

Read on AO3

They don’t define this thing between them - it just is.

After a week, Sonny thinks maybe they should - but he’s so happy, and he doesn’t want to break this calm comfort they’ve found in each other by putting labels on things that have never needed to be labelled before.

Everyone around them is so curious though; other people want it defined. And it shouldn’t matter - shouldn’t be anyone’s business but their own. But it isn’t that simple. Their friends and family make no secret of the fact that they've been waiting for this almost as long as he has.

He skipped out on most of Memorial Day weekend with his family for the first time in his life - only putting in an appearance in his parents’ backyard late on Monday afternoon, a white lie on his lips; that he’s been stuck at work - a lie his mother sees through in an instant.

He can’t stop checking his phone; types and deletes a message to Amanda - an I miss you that he can’t bring himself to send, because it’s so ridiculous. He sends her a photo of the backyard filled with family instead, and smiles down at his phone when she sends him a photo back - the girls at the park, ice cream cones in their hands, sprinkles and chocolate sauce already trailing down Billie’s arm.

He tries to duck out of sight to call her a little later, but his mother catches him as he creeps up the stairs to his childhood bedroom; she stands at the foot of the stairs, hands on her hips, a scolding frown on her face - he hears the Dominick before she says it, and slinks back down to the hallway without a word, thinking about how he’s a prosecutor and he faces tougher opponents than his mother on a daily basis, but no one can reduce him to his thirteen year old self like she can.

His mom doesn’t let him slip back out to the party, her grip on his arm is firm as she tugs him into the kitchen, “Alright, out with it,” she says and he feigns confusion.

“I don’t-”

“It’s either a girl, or it’s something bad,” she says, arms crossed over her chest, a shadow of worry on her face. “And your sister told me you broke up with-”

Sonny sighs, resisting the urge to fold his own arms. He hadn’t actually told Bella that at all, just relayed one of the many arguments he and Nicole had had before they’d called it quits, but he wasn’t surprised that she’d drawn her own conclusions. “Bella needs to stop gossipin’ about me.”

“Tell me.”

“There’s nothin’ to-”  His mother fixes him with a look that would have had him running to his bedroom as a kid; he resists the urge to bolt now. “It’s new,” he says, and because his mom doesn’t so much as blink, he adds. “Rollins.”

There’s a part of him that’s almost giddy at the way she reacts - the way her posture softens and she smiles up at him. He enjoys it for half a second before the questions start coming in thick and fast - he deflects, but she ploughs on.

“So the two of you are-”

“Figuring that out,” he says. He listens to her as she talks about not wasting time, tells him he’s not getting any younger, reminds him his grandmother’s engagement ring is still sitting in her jewellery box upstairs just waiting for him to need it.

“Way too far ahead of yourself, Ma,” he says - too far ahead but still visible there on the horizon.

The closest they come to having the what is this? conversation in those early days is the is this a secret? conversation.

“I don’t want it to be,” Sonny admits, “But if you wanna wait until-”

“Until what?” Amanda asks him, “I’m sure,” she says. “If you are.”

They’re on the couch, the girls fast asleep down the hall and her feet resting in his lap; it’s casual and domestic and not really all that different from the way things have always been, but he lets himself take it in, appreciate the way his world is changing. He rests his hands on her shins as he smiles over at her, “I’m sure,” he says. And that’s it.

Everything left unsaid passes between them in looks, kisses, and touches. They don’t need more.

They don’t advertise it; there’s a time when they’ll have to - disclosure paperwork and conversations about professionalism and objectivity as though they haven’t been managing just fine up until now. But Sonny’s diligent - he’s checked the paperwork - he might have checked the paperwork over a year ago, when she’d left him at his desk with a sad smile and he’d spent the next forty-eight hours kicking himself, only for a global pandemic to stop him calling in that rain check  - and he knows they have time.

They do arrive at the precinct together one Tuesday morning a couple of weeks in; he has a meeting scheduled with Liv first thing and he hasn’t been back to his own apartment in three days. They’re not so blatant as to hold hands, but they do work with some of the best detectives in the city, so it isn’t a surprise that they’re caught out within minutes.

Fin gives them look, but he doesn’t say anything. Sonny’s sure he’ll get a comment in at some point, but while everyone knows Fin enjoys a gossip way more than he lets on, he’s good at keeping his questions to himself until the moment that best suits him.

Kat doesn’t follow suit. She’s nothing but questions and Sonny tries to escape under the guise of waiting for the captain in her office, but Amanda grips his jacket sleeve, silently telling him not leave her.

“How long?” Kat asks, “And what exactly-”

“Our business,” Amanda says; she’s smiling at Kat, no malice in her tone, but no room for argument either.

Jesse get a pass. Because she’s Jesse. And because this affects her just as much as it does Sonny and Amanda. For the first two weeks of waking up to Uncle Sonny sleeping in Mommy’s bed she doesn’t ask any questions - it surprises him, because that first morning waking up beside Amanda his second thought had been that they would have to figure out how to explain his presence there to Jesse and Billie. When Jesse had raced into Amanda's bedroom, though, she had just greeted him like she was used to him being there, and he’d wondered if they’d ever actually need to sit them down and explain.

Eventually she does ask, one night after he’s tucked Billie into bed with a kiss so it’s just the three of them awake. He leans in the bathroom doorway while Amanda gives Jesse her bath. She’s been unusually quiet, and there’s a thoughtful look on her face, “Mommy,” she says after a while, blinking water out of her eyes as Amanda washes her hair, “Is Uncle Sonny your husband now?”

Amanda coughs as though she’s the one with a face full of water, turning to look at Sonny with a startled expression. He gives her a soft smile, but he doesn’t have the answers either.

“Not yet, baby,” she says, and Sonny can’t help the grin that comes over his face, however wide Amanda’s eyes go at her own words.

“You’ve gotta have a weddin’ first,” Sonny adds, and Jesse beams over at him; he sees a dozen questions forming, but Amanda pours more water over her head, rinsing out the shampoo and buying them more time in the same moment.

Once she’s out of the bath, dressed in her pyjamas and ready for bed, Jesse throws her arms around his legs, hugging him tightly, “I’m glad you’re gonna have a wedding with Mommy,” she says, and tips her head back for a goodnight kiss before skipping to her bedroom as though she hadn’t essentially just told him to get on with proposing to her mother.

Amanda’s mother shows up unannounced at her apartment one Sunday morning, and it’s Sonny who answers the door - not expecting Beth Anne Rollins to be standing in the hallway, an impatient look on her face. “Oh,” is all she says when she clocks sight of him, her gaze travelling down the worn t-shirt and pyjama pants he’s wearing, his bare feet on the wooden floor. She pushes past him into the apartment, not greeting him or stopping for breath, “What are you doing here? Amanda finally admit she’s got a thing for you?”

He closes the door behind her and follows, not answering her questions. Billie scrambles down from the dining table to run and hug her grandmother, abandoning the cereal he’s spent the last ten minutes trying to coax her into eating, while she’d stubbornly refused and told him she wanted garlic bread for breakfast.

“Where is Amanda anyway?” Beth Anne asks, turning to look at him again. He feels self-conscious with her gaze on him, the soft clothes, untamed hair, shoeless Sonny Carisi was reserved for Amanda - and by extension the girls - certainly not for his possible future mother-in-law.

“Takin’ Frannie for a walk,” he says, “Jesse’s gone too,” he adds unnecessarily.

Beth Anne nods, still eyeing him with suspicion as she reaches into her handbag and pulls out a lollipop for Billie, who grabs at it gleefully.

“No-” he starts, but Beth Anne is already unwrapping the treat, and he sighs as Billie puts it in her mouth. “She hasn’t finished her breakfast,” he sighs.

“And who says you get to tell me what my granddaughter can eat?” Beth Anne says, smiling indulgently at Billie.

Sonny shakes his head, “I’m gonna… if you’re here I’m gonna get dressed,” he slips away to the bedroom, taking jeans and a shirt from the drawer he now has in Amanda’s dresser. While he changes he hears the sounds of Amanda’s return - Frannie barking, Jesse yelling a greeting to her grandmother. He hears murmuring as Amanda questions Beth Anne’s impromptu visit, and when he returns Amanda and her mother are at opposite ends of the kitchen, Amanda leaning back against the counter with an unimpressed look on her face.

“And then he tries to tell me not to give Billie candy-”

Amanda shakes her head, “He's right. It’s barely 9am, Momma.”

“Well, is he your boyfriend now or not?”

“Momma,” Amanda starts, but cuts herself off when she spots him hovering just beyond the kitchen, she gives him a warm smile, “We’re together, that’s all that matters,” she says, meeting his eye - all she feels and all that goes unsaid held in her gaze for him to see.

They fill in the disclosure paperwork that evening; they don’t have to just yet; they’ve still got time, Sonny’s been keeping the deadline in his head, but Amanda leaves him on the couch and goes out into the entryway where her work bag is; she returns a moment later, a manila folder in her hands that she passes over to him as she sits down. The form inside is mostly filled out - all their basic information already there in Amanda’s handwriting, the only empty boxes are Date of Disclosure, and Nature of Relationship.

“Time to make it official?” he asks, and she pokes his arm gently.

“It’s already official, Carisi,” she says, “Unless you’re thinking otherwise.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head at her, “You got a pen?”

“We’ve got to decide what to write in that box,” she tells him tapping the Nature of Relationship box with the pen she’s just grabbed. “Whatever we’re calling this,” she gestures between the two of them.

“According to Jesse, I’m your future husband,” he says, only half-joking.

Amanda just laughs at him, “I think you’d need to write fiancé,” she says, “But you’re not getting off that lightly - you need to propose to me yourself,” she tells him; she glances away as she adds, “Not yet, though.”

Someday, he thinks, leaning over, a hand reaching for her face, turning her back towards him so that he can kiss her; she lets him, kissing him right back for a minute or so before she puts one palm to his chest, pushing him back from her, “Carisi, let’s finish this first.”

He sighs as he pulls away, but it’s worth it not to have missed the impatient smirk on her face.

“I got it,” he tells her, resting the sheet of paper on his knee as he adds one word to the empty box. Partners.

#carisi week #sonny carisi #rollisi #rollisi fic #svu #svu fic #my fic #amanda rollins

[hanniiesuckle17]

Hypothetically

A/n: I hope you all enjoy this! Ive never written something like this so I’m hoping I did this respectfully (so sorry if this is a little short)

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: mentions of sexual abuse/rape

Requested: by anonymous 

Tag List: @distrikt9​ @mini-meanhoe​ @poeticallyspaghetti​ @hanstagrams​ @desertofdessert​ @hoes4hoseok​ @yangomangos​ (Tag List is Open)

Summary: Chan is the best boyfriend. But, some things you just can’t talk about. When you finally confront Chan about a secret about your past you’ve been keeping you have no idea how he’ll react. 

Genre: angst, fluff, romance

❉

There was no reason to be anxious. Chan was wonderful. He was more than wonderful. He was....he was Chan. I had never met someone like him. Someone caring, and loving, and understanding. We had only been dating for eight months but it felt like I had been with him for years. 

I had forgotten being in a relationship could feel this good. I had been avoiding them for so long after...what had happened before. Chan never pushed me. He always seemed to pick up on cues I didn’t know I was giving. But, there was always this doubt in the back of my mind. 

Eight months. By now, in any relationship, a man would be expecting much more than simply nights shared together. I was too scared to give him even that. Chan never showed or hinted that he was impatient or that he wanted to sleep with me. In fact, I don’t even think the subject had ever been brought up. There was no doubt in my mind he was waiting for it though. 

There was no way he had the working parts of a man and he wasn’t getting the urge to jump on top of me after eight months. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to sleep with Chan. I did. Very much. The man was essentially walking sex looking like he did all the time. But, giving him that, would mean me being vulnerable in a way I wasn’t sure I was ready to do again.

My car came to a stop at the back of JYP Entertainment. Throwing it into park I looked up at the building. My nerves were twisting themselves into tightly wound knots. There is no way I would know how Chan felt if I didn’t ask him. 

I thought the drive from my apartment to the studio would be enough time to figure out what I was going to say to my boyfriend. But, here I sat. The perfect definition of an idiot; staring up at the menacing building waiting for it to sprout legs and chase me down the streets of Seoul. 

“Come on,” 

My words did not help the tightness growing in my chest. Memories I had pushed down were beginning to resurface. Instinctively my hands flew to my neck as if trying to pry off the hands wrapped around it. The hands of a ghost I had long since thrown out of my life. 

“Breathe. Just breathe.” I whispered. My fingers wrapped around my wrist, searching for my pulse. A steady but quick beat thumped against my fingers. After taking another deep breath, I opened the door and got out of the car. 

Hands shaking, I swiped the ID card Chan had given me about a month ago. The loud buzz of the door pulled me further away from the painful thoughts I chose to leave in my car.

My feet carried me on the familiar path to the small studio where I tended to spend any free moment I had these days. It was weird being in the building in the day time. I wasn’t used to nodding at people in the hall as I walked to Chan’s studio.

Music floated through the closed door at the end of the hall. Heartbeat pounding in my ears I reached for the door pushing it open. His head turned at the sound,  a bright smile filled his face. His long fingers pushed down the headphones to rest around his neck

“Y/n! What’s up baby girl?”

My purse landed on the couch behind him. “I need your advice.” Chan blinked a few times, but turned and gave me his full attention. In hopes of releasing some of my nervous energy, I began pacing in the small room. “So, I have this friend,” I started.

Chan nodded watching me pace with a gentle smile. “Is this your friend from class?” He asked sitting back in his chair. I stopped and looked at him, before continuing my pacing at a slower speed. 

“Uhh...no. Different friend. Her name is-uh...Mia...” My eyes looked at Chan to see if he noticed anything. He still seemed interested and none the wiser. “Anyway, uh, Mia- She has this boyfriend. His name is... Chris....stian. His name is Christian.” Chan nodded and watched me lean against the wall.

My hands fiddled with the hairband on my wrist, still needing something to do. “But, they’ve been together for almost a year. She was telling me she was really nervous because she hasn’t you know...slept with him yet. And I- Mia...thinks that Christian even though he never says it, is just waiting for her to let him sleep with her.”

“So, what’s the problem again?” Chan asked with a little laugh. His dimples made an appearance, making my heart skip a beat. 

“See the thing is she hasn’t been intimate with anyone for a really long time. It’s not like she’s bad at it or anything. Believe me- she’s very good. I mean. She told me, that she was good.” Chan laughed, interrupting my rambling. “But she hasn’t you know had sex in a really long time. Christian is her first boyfriend in years. It’s just that her last boyfriend wasn’t exactly....a good person.”

Again I looked to Chan. He sat, listening intently. “It was hard for her to talk about. She doesn’t want to tell him, because...she’s embarrassed and she afraid to be vulnerable. She just doesn’t want to get hurt like what happened to her the last time.” 

“What exactly happened to her that she’s so afraid to tell him or be with him? If he loves her and she loves him it shouldn’t matter.”

My cuticles suddenly became very interesting. He made a good point. Even though I had never said it, I was in fact completely in love with Chan. It was probably why I was obsessing over telling him about what happened.

“Her ex was fine when they started dating. But one night, he took it too far. She said she begged for him to stop...and he didn’t. Instead, he held her down by her neck until he was finished. She thought that it was maybe just a heat of the moment thing. Just something that would happen one time and she could forget it. Leave it as a mistake. But it happened again. And again. She would tell him to stop. He wouldn’t. He would hold her down. Hurt her when she wouldn’t do what he wanted.”

Chan stayed silent. 

“She felt like she couldn’t tell anyone. She thought, ‘it’s not rape if we’re dating right?’. It was consensual... at least in the beginning. She is just so afraid of being that vulnerable with him. She knows that he would never hurt her, but...” I shook my head, shaking myself out of the trance I had slipped into. “Mia asked me to put myself in her shoes. But, I don’t know what to do. If this was you and me...what would you do? Hypothetically.” 

I searched his eyes for any sort of thought or judgment, but he simply stared at me, hands folded in his lap. After a moment, Chan stood up and came to stand in front of me. 

“Hypothetically...I would tell you that I love you. I would never hurt you. And that you know you can always talk to me about anything.” His warm hand wrapped around mine, bringing it up to his lips. “Hypothetically,” He began again. “I would never make you do anything you don’t want to. I wouldn’t care about sex. I would care about you.”

“You really mean that?”

“Hypothetically, yes I do,” Chan said with a smile, kissing my hand again. 

I laughed, leaning my head against his chest. “When did you figure out I wasn’t talking about friends?” 

He sighed wrapping his arms around me. “It wasn’t very hard.” 

I felt safe wrapped up in his arms. “You really don’t care that we’ve been together for so long and we haven’t had sex?” Chan shrugged kissing the top of my head.

“I could care less. I respect you enough to wait until you’re ready and no earlier.” For a moment he just held me in his arms. “I’m really sorry that happened to you. I wish I had known sooner.” 

I looked up at Chan and kissed him, my hands pressing against his chest. “So, do you love me hypothetically? Or actually?” Chan smiled, holding onto me even tighter. 

“I love you. Actually.”

❉

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[val-aquenta]

Mace Windu Appreciation Day One. 

Prompt: Serenity/Acting

Here on ao3

 Mace Windu sat on his seat in the council, hands steepled in front of him. He let out a long breath. The problem of Ryloth was complex and with multiple faces. The Senate was pushing for one side, and while he in part agreed, he could see and understand the other side. He shook his head. He had already spent long on this issue even though the Senate’s push had solidified what the Order would do. They disagreed, but if they made it known, the Senate would be quick to order them. As he walked from the seat into the centre and then to the door, he shed the mantle of authority that came with his seat. He was still the Master of the Order, but away from the seat of decision making there, he felt more free, closer to his family. As he exited the room, Mace took a deep breath of relief. The room was somewhat stifling after so long. “Padawan Aleya, you’re free to go if you wish.” The twi'lek smiled widely. “Apologies for keeping you so late. I should have signalled.” 

“No worries, Master Mace. You aren’t that late.” Aleya assured, bustling at the desk and picking up a stack of datapads. Mace lifted a bemused eyebrow. “I had some work to do.” He mutters, blushing a bright green in embarrassment. Suddenly, he perked up, clearly remembering something. “Oh… Knight Depa had a message, Master. There’s an opening in the play they’re doing soon if you want to join. Not sure about the play, though. She just said you should meet her at the theatre.” Aleya stumbled slightly to the side, the datapads tilting precariously. Mace moved forwards, drawing the Force around the Twi’Lek to keep him from falling. 

“Well, I look forwards to the play. Perhaps you’ll even see me on stage, hmm?” Mace grinned, bemused at the bright green flush again. Aleya had only recently been assigned to the Council desk as Shaak Ti’s padawan. He still had, despite his older age, that youthful hero-worship of some members of the Council. Shaak herself, though, was an exception. “And yourself? It’s nearing exams, isn’t it?”

Aleya cringed, his face twisting into a displeased frown. “Yeah. I’m busy, but still managing. The exams come up soon.” He frowned, fiddling with his stack of datapads. “I still don’t get the Ryloth War in 406. Elya seems to be the cause of the revolt, but then the Rila commune also could be part of it, and the-” He stopped suddenly. “Sorry, Master. I was babbling.”

“No worries, Padawan. I’m afraid I’m not too well-versed in Ryloth’s history. I had not studied it. Cyslin, my Master, she studied Ryloth, though it was a while back before I became her Padawan.” Mace explained, a contrite look on his face. 

“Oh! That would be helpful. I’ll talk to her.” They reached the end of the hall. Aleya tried to manage a wave around the datapads. He was… somewhat successful. “Well, see you tomorrow, Master!” And with that, he walked down the left corridor. 

Mace raised a hand in an aborted way. “Good luck with your studies!” He called back, receiving a smile his way. Alright, now for the theatre. It would be fun to act again. Even for just a moment.

Depa was outside the arts centre, waiting for him. She smiled widely as he neared, looking up from a holo and placing the datapad in her robe pocket. “Master! You got my message.” She had changed her hairstyle from a braided crown into four looped braids. 

“Of course. Padawan Aleya is nothing if not diligent.” Mace commented, close enough to feel the gentle warmth of his former student. She shuffled a bit closer, her youthful features lighting up in happiness. 

“Indeed.” She paused for a while, simply soaking in the familiar presence of Mace before speaking once more. “Well, the younglings were putting together a show, and they need a Master and a Knight.” She pointed to Mace and then to herself. “I already volunteered you.” 

Mace sighed, of course. “Depa, you know I am quite busy now-” He started only to be interrupted by Depa. 

“I already checked your schedule, Master.” She grinned unashamedly. Mace had idly wondered if knighting Depa would lessen the amount she pestered him. It appeared not. “I’ve cleared it for practice and rehearsal. As Master of the Order, shouldn’t you be spending some time with the younglings?” She raised an eyebrow slyly.

Mace snorted, “That’s Master Yoda’s job.” Still, he followed Depa into the theatre centre, hands folded into his sleeves. If she had, in fact, cleared his schedule, it would be silly for him to miss this. Depa shot him a smug smile, unfazed by the dry look she received in response.

“Master Windu, Knight Depa!” The crechemaster, a tall mirialan surrounded by a small gaggle of younglings. “Thank you for coming.” Mace bowed, Depa copying him, her hair bobbing playfully. She shot a smile at one of the younglings, a young nautolan who smiles hesitantly in return. Mace takes a glance over the group. There are nine children of various ages, spanning until probably 12. He can’t truly tell. “We’re acting out the tale of the caves for the day of discovery.”

“Ah, a lovely choice,” Mace assured, trying not to feel too sad when some of the children seemed to startle. It appeared he had been missing creche supervision because of all the paperwork from the council seat he had gotten right after knighting Depa. “I’m quite familiar with it. I’m sure you are too, Depa?”

Depa nodded, a hand reaching out to move her braid out of the way. “Yes, we acted it a few times when I was younger. You played the knight if I recall?”

“Indeed.” It had been where he first met Depa. A fond memory he kept close to his heart. “So, when will we begin?” He asked the crechemaster, Tirna if he recalled correctly. 

Tirna was about to speak before a flimsi was pushed into her hands. She looked down to peer at it for a moment. “It’s lovely.” She murmured with a soft smile to the small twi’lek, returning the drawing and receiving a bright smile in return. “We were waiting for you two, so I suppose we can go in. 

The younglings were corralled in, excitedly whispering to each other. The theatre was a familiar place. When he was younger, he had spent most of his time here being taught the art of acting on stage. He’d even dabbled in music on stage, though he preferred to simply speak and not sing on stage. Both Cyslin and himself were surprised when he had gotten an offer from the theatre to become an instructor here. Sadly, his path to knighthood had gotten in the way and Instructor Rhuy had been disappointed, but not exactly surprised by Mace turning down the offer. Sadly, the chiss had passed to the Force a few years ago in his few missions offworld. He had not become familiar with the new instructor, too busy with Depa’s final years of apprenticeship. Mace looked at the brown and gray walls, breathing in the familiar scent and soaking in the warmth of the place. It was a place for entertainment. While, yes, people were driven to tears with some performances, the imprint left in the place was one of happiness and joy. 

Depa, at his side, watched him with a sideways glance. She had not seen him act much in recent years. In the middle of their years, when they were on rotation at the Temple for Depa’s studies, Mace would find himself often in the theatre, but a lot of those memories were hazy, just long enough ago that Depa could only recall them with a blurriness on the edges. A striking image of Mace in full attire of older Jedi, the ornamental robes and rather fancy modified training hilts came to mind. He turned in an elaborate fighting dance with another Jedi, a crechemate in the story. Another image, this time of Mace in more modern Jedi robes, a Nautolan next to him as he acted out a confession scene. She recalled the way she had cringed away from the stage. By the Force, it was her Master up there with that knight. Cyslin’s soft chuckle and a warm hand on her head finished the memory, the faint murmur of Mace’s voice in the background. 

He belonged in the theatre, she concluded, watching his eyes light up as they saw the familiar sight around him. Just as he belonged in the Council chambers, or in some blaster fight on some war-torn planet, or at some negotiation table, impassively looking between the two sides. Mace was many things, and that included being an actor. He looked at home here amongst the rows of seats, the stage as a backdrop, but he also belonged elsewhere. His eyes caught hers. Depa lifted her brow in question. Mace shook his head and followed Tirna up the stairs to the backstage and rehearsing room. Depa took one more look at the theatre, lit up with a warm yellow light, before following the group. 

The rehearsing room was, essentially, a large room, somewhat soundproof and almost large enough to duel. There were mirrors in one corner. The kids stood with Tirna in the corner where she handed out papers. The play was short, most of it being a question and response play. It was a kid's play after all. Depa and he stood in the corner, Mace trying to relax his back. Sitting in the Council chair for so long is a painful experience. He would rather not be there sometimes. Depa eyes him sympathetically, her hand reaching out to rest on his shoulders. They both turn to Tirna, in a strange synchronisation that is a result of their partnership. The mirialan blinks before offering the script. Mace accepts it, though he thinks he can recall all the words. “Thank you.” He says softly, flicking through it. The flimsi flutters under his fingers. He looks up to catch the woman smiling at Depa as she hands the flimsi. It occurs to Mace that he never asked why Tirna had asked Depa for her help first. It appears Mace muses with a bemused smile, that Depa is hiding something from me. And that she is doing a rather poor job. He turns back to the script

Tirna floats through the class as they read through it dramatically. The exaggerated expressions and voices of a few directly contrast the other side who read with a bored monotonous voice. It is endearing and familiar. Depa shuffles where she’s seated, rearranging her clothes, a nervous tell Mace has noted for a while. Mace shuffles a bit closer to her, hand going out to rest on her free one. Depa settles, easily leaning into the familiar warmth. They continue reading this way. The nautolan boy near them shoots him a look before returning to his rather exaggerated fearful voice. “But, Master, it’s too cold. I’ll freeze here.”

“Worry not, I feel a heat coming forth.” He tries to be comforting. “Knight Lea, you feel it too?” He asks Depa.

“Indeed, Master.” She responds, easily falling into a lightheartedness as a part of her character. “Younglings… see the light, it comes through the chamber and… through the ice.” The children act as though they are surprised, and relieved. 

“It will save us from the caves. The ice, it’s going down.” A young mirialan says, veil pushed quickly to the side from where it falls on his face. “Melting.” He’s rather good at it, Mace muses. The mirialan boy looks awed. And so, the play ends. Mace finds himself clapping happily much to the embarrassment of the younglings who end up blushing and sharing glances. Depa hands out compliments easily, the children used to her mannerisms indicating she’s been here often. 

The mirialan, Lameo, comes up to him. “Knight Depa says that you were once part of the theatre, but you chose to become a council member instead.” Mace blinks from where he sits, looking slightly upwards at the boy. 

“Indeed, I did.” He confirms, his head tilting slightly to the left. 

Lameo seems to perk up, sitting down in front of Mace. “What was it like, the theatre I mean, not being a Master? I want to join the theatre club, Master Windu, and I was wondering if I should or if I shouldn’t.” 

Mace hums thoughtfully, hands unconsciously steepling in front of him, “If you desire it, and you feel that it is your path, join it. I must say, you have a knack for it as well.” He grins a bit, happy when the young mirialan smiles back. “The theatre would benefit greatly if you joined.” 

“You think so?” 

“I would not lie, young one,” Mace says.

Lameo breathes in deep, furrowing his brow for a moment before he stands and bows thankfully, “I’ll think about it.”  

The performance happens two weeks later. Mace wears slightly more traditional robes, extra ornaments and embellishments on the cream robes. The children, all decked out in their own gear, like all children do, love the elaborately designed hilts, not made for comfort in dueling, but made to look flashy and beautiful. He turns to welcome Depa and is taken aback for a moment. Her robes are designed differently from what she usually wears. The sleeves are more poofed, less easy to fight in, the pants billow before coming to a close at the boots, and there is a pattern on the fabric itself, intricate little swirls that seem to fit. He recalls a younger Depa in cream coloured tunics before she became a Padawan. It appears, he muses, that she has grown up. Her hair has been intricately plaited on top of her head, in a style that Mace would say tops even the most intricate Naboo hairstyles. When he looks at her, he feels happy, yet also sad, yearning for the time when she would only reach his elbow.

“Master?” Depa asks as she sides up beside him after praising enough of the initiates for their costumes. “Are you alright? You seem… off. Are you nervous?” She seems genuinely concerned. 

“No worries, Depa. Just… thinking.” She shoots him a confused look, obviously not exactly understanding at all. Like he’s done before, he starts explaining. “You’ve grown up. It is… novel sometimes.”

Depa snorts, reaching out to smooth non-existent wrinkles on his robes. “You knighted me a year ago.” She murmurs. “I was far from my Padawan years then.”

“I suppose it is only hitting now,” Mace admits, shifting the tunic a bit from where it sits skewed to the left. It was a tradition to make sure they were both dressed properly before leaving the apartments. It has carried on to this day. “In many ways, I can still see the little you.” Depa laughs lightly, a small chuckle really. Her eyes sparkle like they always do when she finds something humorous. 

“Oh dear, I must have a long way to go then, before I am fully grown in your eyes, my Master.” Her affectionate tone accompanies her hands squeezing his. “Well, are you ready?”

“Of course,” Mace says. Depa smiles and joins Tirna in corralling the kids onto the stage. Mace takes a moment to breathe before following her on the stage.

#mace windu #mace windu appreciation week #depa billaba #Jedi appreciaiton #pro jedi #duna writes #star wars fanfic #fanfic