#I wish the draft was at night instead of the day especially when it’s not a holiday or anything?

[grantmentis]

PWHL player eligibility for the draft.

“All 268 eligible players officially declared for the draft prior to the Sept. 3 deadline. The group consists of 146 forwards, 78 defenders, and 44 goaltenders representing a total of 17 different countries. 237 of the players competed during the 2022-23 season including 98 players in the PHF, 63 players with the PWHPA, and 49 players at the NCAA and U SPORTS level.”

Some notable names not on the list who have not signed elsewhere this year: Rebecca Johnston, Amanda Kessel, Laura Fortino, Kacey Bellamy, Brigette Lacquette, Meghan Mikkelson, Jennifer Wakefield, Amanda Conway, Cassidy MacPherson, Anjelica Diffendal, Whitney Dove, Michaela Boyle, Katie Burt, Sarah Forster, Emilie Harley, Jenna Rheault (stated retirement), Lovisa Selander, Lauren Kelly, Kayla Friesen, Christina Putigna, Abbie Ives, Melissa Samoskevich, Hannah Bates (CORRECTION: she is playing in Germany), Mallory Souliotis, Emma Vlasic, Janine Weber, Sydney Baldwin, Emma Stauber, Maddie Rowe, Stephanie Anderson, Kristina Shanahan, Emily Fluke, Audra Richards, Reagan Rust (stated retirement), Lindsay Eastwood (stated retirement), Breanne Wilson-Bennett

Draft will be Monday the 18th at 1EST, steaming on CBC’s official app or webpage in Canada for free or for on CBC’s YouTube for international viewers. More information on the draft itself here

[melancholyhigh]

WORK HOURS.

ft. re2!rookie!leon x lieutenant!reader

synopsis. you were supposed to help leon out on his first time on the job. instead, you’re helping him out in a different way.

content. smut. 1.2k words. car sex, cowgirl, unprotected p in v, dry humping, sub leon, marking, they’re both so desperate for each other, creampie, pet names, praise kink, virginity loss.

note. man, fuck tumblr. i accidentally posted the unfinished draft n didn't realise :( anyways, i hope you guys like it <3

check out my other works. comments & reblogs are appreciated !!

it was leon’s first week on the job, and you were assigned to show him around since he wasn’t well acquainted with raccoon city. boss thought it would be a great idea to take him on patrol to get him adjusted to the area. 

you were excited that a new recruit was joining. it didn’t happen too often, and you knew it was difficult being a rookie — you were in the same position when you had originally joined the RPD. so when you meet him, you plan on being a great lieutenant and helping him where necessary.

your first impression of leon was that he was sweet and a bit naive. he was also rather gorgeous. God certainly had favourites. you couldn’t help but stare at him, and he noticed. a pink blush blooming on his cheeks when he caught you gazing at him. the flushed look made him even more captivating as you secretly wished that the blush on his face would be for different reasons. 

you felt guilty for having such thoughts about him. you are his boss, for Christ’s sake. you have to assist him with his duties, not get in his pants. 

but how could you not think about him like that? the way he got flustered when your hands brushed up against his or the shy glances he took of you throughout the day as you showed him the workings of the place.

this constant build-up of teasing had been why the fine line between being work professional and fucking the shit out of him had been blurred. leaving you in the predicament you are in right now.

the glass windows are foggy as you and leon sloppily make out in the reclined passenger seat of the police car. you’re hovering over him, legs on either side of his thighs. your pants are off and somewhere near the driver’s seat. you’re too preoccupied with the soft whines that leave leon’s parted lips as you place opened-mouth kisses down the column of his throat, sucking on the sensitive flesh. 

this isn’t what you had planned for the night. you and leon should've been patrolling the streets, searching for criminals, not dry-humping in a car in some shitty parking lot. 

but, fuck, the whimpers that he makes when he eagerly grips your hips with his big, soft hands and guides your clothed pussy against the bulge of his uniform pants have you overlooking your responsibilities for the rest of the night. 

“feel so good,” he groans quietly into your ear as you continue sucking marks on his neck. you pull back to admire your work. his lips, swollen from your passionate kissing, the buttons of his cotton shirt undone, exposing the expanse of his chest littered with reddish-purple marks. you want the sight seared into your brain.

he peers up through his eyelashes, eyes all glossy, and his face flushed with that same fucking blush you adore. he’s bucking his hips up to yours, pants stained with your arousal, leaking through your underwear and his arms circle your waist. 

“shit, i wanna feel you inside of me, honey,” you say breathlessly and leon nearly comes in his pants at the thought of feeling your cunt squeezing him tight. 

you’re leaning against the dashboard, clumsily unbuckling his belt before half haphazardly throwing it to the side. unzipping leon’s pants, you pull his cock out of his boxers. it’s flushed and red, especially at the tip, which leaked with precum. everything about him was pretty. 

you grasp his shaft, slowly stroking him. his face nuzzled against the crook of your neck. your warm hands moving up and down his rigid cock provided enough friction for him to make a mess all over your palms. you realised he was holding out for you, smiling you kissed the top of his head.

“you’re such a good boy, leon,” you said softly. 

at your words, you felt his hips jerk up into your hands. moans escaped his lips as he bit into your neck trying to contain them.

he whimpers your name, panting into the crook of your neck.

“need you so bad,” he sobs, tears swimming in his beautiful blue eyes. his cock pulsing and neglected when you pull your hands away from him. 

“fuck, okay, sweetheart,” you muttered. leon leans back into the reclined seat, his hands on your hips. his chest moving up and down with every breath he takes.

you push your damp panties to the side, exposing your dripping cunt, you grind onto leon’s cock, groaning when the bulbous head of his cock nicks your sensitive clit. leon gasps at the feeling of your warm, bare pussy up against him. he wouldn’t last that long inside of you.

his cock finally enters your cunt. barely the tip is in, and you both groan in unison. your nails dig into his shoulders for support as you continue to sink down into him. 

you feel each vein and ridge of his cock when he bottomed out in you. you moaned loudly. you were filled to the brim with him. 

leon’s chest heaves as he feels your warm, gummy walls swallow his cock. he wanted so badly to fuck into you, but he wanted to be good. 

“you’re amazing, sweetheart.” you huff out. “‘m gonna start moving, ‘kay?” 

he acknowledges your words by squeezing your hips, unable to trust his voice. 

you start bouncing on his cock, and all he manages are choked whines and whimpers that leave his pink, lips. he starts bucking his hips up to you, and you’re moaning when he reaches the spots you thought were imaginable. 

the obscene squelching sounds of your drenched cunt being pounded into by leon fills the car alongside his and your desperate moans. it’s insane how wet he makes you. 

“you hear that, baby? that’s how good you’re making me feel,” you say with a shaky voice. 

your words make his tummy tense. he holds you closer, his hips stuttering before he gets into a rhythm again. he’s close to coming. 

“‘m close,” he whimpers, and your pussy tightens around him at the sound of his broken voice.

his bangs are sticking to his forehead from the sweat that accumulated. he looks even more beautiful fucked out like this.

“come with me, baby,” you breathed. you brought one of your hands to your clit, rubbing tight circles. 

nearing your orgasm, you press your lips to his, pushing your tongue into his mouth. the intimate moment has both of you coming. 

leon’s legs are shaking as he comes inside your pussy. he moans into your mouth, feeling your cunt spasming around his cock when you climax. his hips came to a halt, and you feel his sticky cum ooze out of your sensitive pussy. 

you’re both breathless, and he’s still holding onto you like his life depends on it.

“you did so well, leon,” you mumble, moving the bangs from his forehead, giving him a kiss. leon heart skips a beat. you treat him so good.

[song-witch]

Chin Up, Buttercup

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,084

Warnings: Fluff! Southern Mommy Wanda. More fluff.

Summary: It's your big break, but the one person you want to support you isn't there when you need her.

A/N: I wrote this in like 24 hours, but yolo.

Part Two Part Three

“I’m so proud of you, darlin’.” The woman’s voice filled the calmness surrounding the two of you with a certain… delicacy that could only be made by her. It had a certain drawl to it, words weighed down by the sticky sweetness of the southern accent that clung thickly to her honey filled words. Everything about the moment was soft, something Wanda gave you endlessly, especially after the hours upon hours you had spent on your work.

It had taken you years to get to this point. To be able to finally put it up on display for the rest of the world, except for one. Wanda. You hadn’t stopped talking about it for weeks. Had it marked on every calendar the two of you shared, and even then some more.

And yet, she had missed it. Had gotten scheduled on some bullshit meeting that could get her fired from the company. You had told her multiple times that you could support the two of you, that your book would break record sales and neither of you would ever have to work again. Of course, that was wishful thinking, but it’s what had gotten you this far, isn’t it?

Wanda had left early that morning, earlier than normal, with a kiss to your head, a silent promise that she’d be home that night. It felt like a silent apology that she couldn’t make it to your first booktalk.

It was okay, though. You were a big girl who didn’t need Wanda at your side for everything you did. You tried to tell yourself that for the rest of the day, that you could do it all by yourself, even if it pulled heavily at your heart.

You did your best to pull through your day. You ate breakfast alone, debating on tearing the sticky note Wanda had left you a message on like other days she didn’t have time to eat with you before. It felt far too literal, though. Like that post it note was your heart and every little tear made it hurt even more. You settled for crumpling it up, tossing it across the empty dining table, a hard reminder of how utterly lonely you truly were.

You sat alone when you were getting your makeup done, your outfit picked out. You would blame the tears in your eyes on your makeup. Wanda was the one who dolled you up. But she had work. For hours you told yourself you could do it. You could stand up in front of a crowd and talk about the book you had spent all of your adult and most of your teen years writing, pouring every ounce of love, hatred and everything in between in it. It didn’t feel real, though.

Since you had met her, you had envisioned her next to you at this moment. Instead, you stood by yourself with a podium in front of you, the small beaded friendship bracelet twisted between your fingers. Wanda had randomly bought the kit for you one day and you had insisted she make one with you. They were matching, the only difference being your names on the piece of string.

“Thank you all again for coming.” Despite your earlier feelings of loneliness, you smiled brightly into the microphone, more than aware of the amount of photographers and press there.

Gingerly closing the book, you stepped away from the podium, scooping the item into your arms. Agatha pulled you towards a secluded corner, your team surrounding you. Right next to Wanda, she had been your number one supporter since you brought the rough draft to her. She signed you within a few hours, taking on the role as your editor and publicist like it was nothing.

“Good job out there, toots.” The brunette clapped your back, a toothy smile brightening her features. You smiled up at her, hardly able to hear her over the roar of your own heart beating along with the crowd of people ready to have their books signed by you. “Say, you keep wooing crowds like that and you’re gonna sell out in no time, kid.”

“Really?” The hope in your voice brought forth a new youthfulness to you, like you were a kid again. In a way, you were. You had wanted this since you had started writing, and here you were, your first book published and with a second well on its way.

“With that cute tush of yours? Everyone will be wanting more, sweets.” Agatha threw an over exaggerated wink at you as she laughed, using the hand that hadn’t left your shoulder as a support of sorts. Your smile faltered just slightly, a blush coloring your cheeks. It was something Wanda liked to tease you about, how easily it was to get you riled up. You would deny it forever, even though you knew she was right. “Speaking of everyone, where’s that ragamuffin of yours?”

The smile on your face almost immediately sank. You had been so busy the entire day that you hadn't had time to think about Wanda, let alone the fact that she wasn’t there. Agatha hardly noticed your change in demeanor, too focused on the buzz around you. “She… she had work.”

“Oh, that’s too bad, toots. I’m always here if you need a plus one.” Rather than comforting you, the woman shimmied beside you, yet another wink thrown your way. You had learned that she was like that sometimes. Way too much to handle. So you smiled and nodded, trying not to let the thought that your girlfriend wouldn’t be there to support you.

“Only kidding! Well, unless you two say otherwise. You know where to call me!” Agatha stepped away from her, her hand finally pulling away from your shoulder. It was the first time you felt like you could actually breathe during the entire interaction. You loved the woman, truly, but she could be a lot. “Go enjoy your party, hot stuff, you deserve it!”

And with that, the woman left, presumably to find the bar, leaving you to be pushed around by the rest of your team. You knew enough about the events of the day that you’d be signing books for the next hour, if not longer. You were grateful for all the time Wanda had spent practicing your signature, a nice, loopy design that made you feel proud of yourself. It was all you could think about as you were swept over to the long table full of your book, pushed down into the singular chair at the table, a line that was longer than it should be waiting for your signature.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

By the hour and a half mark, your hand was cramping, not used to writing with a sharpie for this long. The line felt like it had barely shrunken, still too long to see the end of. It was thrilling and disheartening at the same time; the faster you could sign all of these books and do whatever you were told, the faster you could get home to see Wanda. That had it’s own anxieties attached to it, but whether she could be here or not wouldn’t change how excited you were to see her. Sure, it sucked that she couldn’t be here. Really sucked, but you would be able to see her in a few hours and tell her all about your day. It would have to suffice.

Another hour passed before you could see the last ten or so people, the feeling of relief strong. You had been at it for over two hours now and, while you were beyond flattered and amazed to have this many people read your book, you were exhausted to say the least.

You wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in your lovers arms, but you knew it would be at least a few more hours before that was even plausible. Faces began to meld together as the line continued to shorten, each person looking a little more like the next. As the last person approached, you breathed a sigh of relief, not even looking up as a book was slid between your hands.

“Thank you for coming.” You gave the person, a woman based on the high rise jeans and blouse they were wearing from where your eyes didn’t travel up their body, a tired smile just barely tugging at your lips.

“What? No sugar for me, sweetheart?” The words themselves made you feel gross, though the voice was recognizable. Something about the soft timber of it was reminiscent, like a fond memory you couldn’t let go of.

You were sure your confusion was evident all over your face, what with the way your eyebrows pulled together and your hand stopped moving, though you couldn’t care less if the signature was ruined or not. Your eyes traveled up the, yes, woman’s body, a familiar map of beauty stood in front of you.

“Wanda?” Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of her.

She had really gone all out, dressed as nice as possible for your big event. She wore high waisted black dress pants, paired with a deep purple blouse with even darker flowers printed across it. She was wearing your favorite wedges of hers. Her dark, faded out roots were pulled up in a half up, half down style, the long locks flowing down her back. It took everything in you to not let the tears that had filled your eyes to spill, pushing the book and marker away from you as you used the table to stand.

“Hi, pumpkin.” Wanda’s southern accent was the best thing you had heard all day, instantly warming you like nothing else had.

You all but flung yourself into her arms, uncaring of how hard you had hit the table with your thigh. Wanda would tell you to be more careful about it later, would kiss it better, you knew. You didn’t care about anything other than being in her arms, though.

“Wanda.” You all but whimpered into her neck where you had almost immediately pushed your face. She smelled the same as always, an earthy undertone that paved way to the light lavender you knew was her favorite perfume, even though she hardly used it. It fully encapsulated you, making the tears in your eyes burn even more as her arms wrapped around you.

“It’s good to see you too, sweetheart.” Wanda laughed heartily, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. Her hands ran up and down your back, a gentle strength to them that had you wanting more, to be held even closer. The hand holding your bracelet, her right hand, settled at your waist, while the other settled at the base of your head, softly carding through her hair.

She had held you like this far too many times to count, but you still melted in her hold, your breath hitching. The woman held you against her as you continued to fight off tears, taking in the sweet scent that enveloped you, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Time was non-existent to you once again as she stood holding you, humming softly. The only thing that you knew was that it was nowhere near enough time when she pulled back, holding you at an arm’s length with a beaming smile. She traced her left hand up to your face, cupping your cheek as she searched your eyes. You couldn’t help but smile back, biting your lip as it continued to tremble. Wanda shook her head, tsking under breath as she dropped her hand down to grasp your chin, tugging your lip out from between your teeth.

“You did so good up there, sugar.” Wanda pressed a kiss against your cheek, easily turning your head with the finger on your chin to press another to your opposite cheek. The nudish brown pigment of her lipstick just barely transferred onto your skin, something the woman would take a wet thumb to in mere moments. She kissed your lips chastely before doing so, giving you barely enough time to process what was happening before she was licking her thumb and rubbing at the lip marks.

“B-but… you…” You did your best to protest, shaking your head from side to side as you tried to escape her grasp. None of it made sense. She would’ve just gotten off of work maybe half an hour ago and would’ve had to book it through heavy rush hour traffic to get to your talk. There’s no way she could’ve seen you on the podium, let alone giving your speech.

“I what, hun? Use your big girl words now.” The brunette fixed you with a stern look as she stopped scrubbing at your cheek, tipping your head up. You couldn’t help but stare at her. The nude lip she had brought out the green in her eyes, the bright sun shining through the open windows forming something akin to a halo around her. She was gorgeous. Something straight out of one of your stories. It helped that the main character’s love interest had more than a few things in common with the woman.

“You… you were at work.” Your head cocked to the side just slightly, something you had definitely picked up from the woman, eyebrows furrowing. You pulled at your bracelet, the elastic snapping at your skin with a nice popping noise as the beads rattled. Wanda tsked, shaking her head as she grabbed your left wrist, pity written all over her face.

“Oh my, precious. I wasn’t actually at work. I was tryin’ to surprise you.” Her lips turned downwards, bringing your wrist up to her mouth with a kiss. It was obvious she wasn’t pitying you because you had snapped yourself with your bracelet, but rather because she knew how worried you must’ve been all day. The bracelet issue just happened to be a part of it.

“And what did I tell you would happen if you kept snappin’ that bracelet?” Her tone was anything but mean, if not more questioning than condescending.

The words had you easily blushing, tilting your head down as if to hide it. “That I wouldn’t get it back until you say so.” Your right hand hung loose at your side, left still grasped by the woman. You knew her eyes would be full of sorrow if you looked up, instead keeping your eyes down as you scuffed the ball of your foot against the tile. “‘M sorry.”

“Then why do you keep doin’ it, love bug? It hurts mommy when your hurt yourself.” Wanda’s voice was as sorrowful as you knew her eyes were, a tone of hurt overflowing her words.

You couldn’t help but look up anyways, your breath hitching at the sight of glossy eyes and a frown. It wasn’t often that she got upset with you in public, yet something about the silly bracelet you wore every day had made her tear up. The sight made tears come to your own eyes, your frown mimicking hers.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying!” You pleaded softly, watching as she snaked her finger up your wrist, easily interlacing your fingers. It was hard resisting the urge to kiss her, rocking back and forth just slightly on the balls of your feet. You hadn’t meant to upset her, hadn't even realized you were fiddling with the elastic until she had said something about it.

“It’s okay, pumpkin. I know you’re tryin’ and I am so, so proud of you.” Wanda’s free hand came up to hold your cheek, smiling softly at you as her eyes roamed your body, finally taking you all in. She hadn’t seen you since the night before, unless the way you slept curled up against her this morning counted, and had been dying to see you for hours, but had held off in hopes of surprising you.

“My baby girl.” Despite the fact that you had both been moments away from crying, a fresh shade of red covered your face, a heat protruding off of your cheeks as the woman pinched it with one hand.

“Wanda.” You groaned, suddenly aware of the fact that you were very much still in public. Your body twisted with you as you glanced around the room, thankful to see that no one was paying you any attention. Which was funny, seeing as how it was your booktalk.

That being said, you could feel a pair of eyes on you that certainly weren’t Wanda’s, spinning in the woman’s arms once again until you saw your editor. She was looking at the two of you with something you couldn’t detect. Jealousy? Disdain? Whatever it was, Agatha sent you a smirk and a wink as soon as you made eye contact before turning away from you.

You turned back to Wanda, slotting yourself under her chin once more. “When can we go home?” You asked in a small voice, uncaring if she could hear you or not. Of course she could though, her lips smacking quietly together.

“Whenever you want, buttercup.” Wanda could tell something was wrong, the way her arms wrapped around you even tighter than before was enough for you to know. You took a deep breath, frantically running your hands through her long hair. It was curled, tighter than usual, but not terrible. You felt weird all of a sudden, like your editor hated you and the entire room was shrinking.

“Can… Is now okay?” You asked a little louder. Wanda nodded, only pulling away enough to lift your chin up enough to meet her eyes.

“O-okay, sweet pea. We can leave right now, that’s what you want?” The woman phrased it like a question, her voice soft if not a little confused. You had been so happy to see her just moments ago, but now wanted to go home. Sure, she knew you weren’t the biggest fan of crowds, she herself wasn’t either, but she thought you would’ve wanted to at least enjoy the party before you left.

Whatever it was, though, she was more than willing to take you home, leaving you with a kiss to let your team know you were leaving before leading you out to her car, buckling you in before taking her spot in the drivers side. She took your hand in hers, the letters of your names on your bracelets rubbing against each other as she drove off.

[honeyedmiller]

Law of Attraction — Chapter One: Rough Draft

series masterlist | next chapter

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: Professor!Joel, reader is self conscious for a bit, reader is mentioned to be plus sized, no outbreak au, smut (fingering, thigh riding, f oral receiving, unprotected piv), pet names, age gap (joel is in his mid forties and reader is in late twenties), no use of y/n.

word count: 4.4k

chapter synopsis: you need help with a paper you’re writing for Professor Miller’s class, and he’s more than happy to oblige.

Professor Miller’s class was your favorite.

Criminal Law was your favorite subject, and Professor Miller made learning about it sound like the most interesting thing in the world (which to you, it truly was).

Although the class itself was a bit monotonous, you got to look at the most handsome Professor on the University of Austin’s campus. It was no secret that people only joined Professor Miller’s class just to ogle over him and his ruggedly handsome looks.

You, on the other hand, needed this class to graduate. Which means you needed to try. You were a good student; A’s and B’s as your final grades at the end of each semester, took good notes, studied hard, and asked for help when you needed it. However, you found it to be a bit difficult to do so for Professor Miller.

Even just being around him made you unintentionally blush. His eyes always tended to land on yours because you sat up front, and, well, tried to pay attention to the lesson. So, when you weren’t exactly confident in the rough draft of a paper you wrote for his class, you’d emailed him for help.

to: jmiller@uta.edu

Good evening Professor Miller,

I was just wondering if I could have you read through the rough draft of my paper. I seem to be struggling a bit with this particular section of the course, and would like some feedback to see what I need to change or can improve.

Thank you and kind regards.

You held your breath as you clicked ‘send’, and in less than five minutes, he replied to you. Your heart leaped into your throat when you saw his name on the screen, and you rolled your eyes at yourself for getting so worked up over a man that you’d never be able to have, regardless if you were well above a legal age.

from: jmiller@uta.edu

Of course. Meet me after class tomorrow and we can go over it in my office during my office hours.

Have a good night.

Professor M

You often thought of Professor Miller outside of class, and, sometimes, you’d let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t go. Places like what it’d feel like for him to run his hands over you, fingers in you, him moaning because of you.

Your thoughts always quickly dissipated though when reality sunk in. Surely he’d want someone his own age, not a student of his, and someone who was… well, thinner. You were a bigger girl and you’d struggled with your image a lot, especially because trauma from your childhood from being made fun of constantly haunted you into your adulthood.

It wasn’t easy not caring what people thought of you, especially since you weren’t society’s “standard” beauty. You were curvy, yes, but you didn’t have a flat tummy like other women. You’ve been on a journey of self love and healing for a long time, and you've come a long way. You've had a newfound confidence spring within you, but you just couldn't help the thought loom in the back of your mind as you fantasized about your unfairly gorgeous professor.

So, as it was, you went to bed that night fucking yourself with your fingers, wishing they were his instead as a ghost of his name was whispered from your lips.

-

It was unusually hot in Austin the next day, which resulted in you wearing a pencil skirt that came just above the knees, a button down shirt with the first couple of buttons undone, and strap back kitten heels. You had a presentation in your first class with a team to act as if you were profilers giving a profile on a high stakes case. So, naturally, you had to dress the part.

What you didn't take in account is the fact that several of your classmate's eyes landed on you as you walked into Professor Miller's class a few minutes before it started. Professor Miller's eyes snapped up and looked at you, taking in your professional attire. You felt your face get hot as you tried to subtly head to your desk in the front, but your heels clicking against the floor didn't help.

Joel cleared his throat as he typed something on his computer, turning on the projector so the screen could display today's lesson. Joel got up from his desk and trudged over to yours, knocking on it twice. Your head was already buried in the notes from the previous lessons, so his presence startled you.

"I remembered your email from yesterday. See me after class today if you can." He pauses, taking a moment to look over your features, pretty face was perfectly on display for him. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your doe eyes scanned his face, lips in a soft pout, and your chest was rising and falling faster than usual. The way he looked at you made you squeeze your legs together, and Joel noticed.

"For my paper." You stated matter-of-factly, rather than questioning it. He nodded, and you mirrored his actions once before he stalked back to his desk. He greeted the class shortly after, beginning the lesson almost immediately.

Class lasted the two hours as usual, and as everyone gathered their stuff, you stay put. You’d crossed your leg over one another because the heavy feeling of arousal just wasn’t going away.

Professor Miller looked particularly good today, with his hair done up and a tight cotton green button down hugging the muscles in his arms. You always admired his husky build, and this shirt he wore with the fitted denim jeans he had on accentuated it perfectly.

“So what exactly are you struggling with?” Professor Miller cuts to the chase, prompting you to come up to his desk. You clear your throat as you pull the rough draft from your folder, sliding out of your desk. You walk over to him, heels still clicking onto the floor with purpose. You hand him the paper and he takes it from you gently.

“I’m having trouble with the case study here,” You lean over his desk slightly, a perfectly manicured finger of yours pointing at the third paragraph on the first page. “I don’t know if I should apply or dispute it.” You chew on your bottom lip nervously, not realizing how incredibly sexy you look to your dear professor right now.

One of your hands was hooked to the edge of his desk, gripping on it to balance yourself as you leaned over giving him a slight peep of the very top of the soft flesh of your breasts. You biting your lip like that didn’t make things any better. Joel felt his cock twitch in his jeans, and he wanted to groan.

Joel’s admired your curviness since the first day you walked into his classroom. He always found plus size women attractive, so naturally, he felt more drawn to you. He knew you were a consenting adult and a grown woman at that, so he truthfully didn’t feel too guilty for unashamedly checking you out. You just never noticed.

Joel’s eyes snapped back to your paper, reading over the section you pointed at. “You should apply the argument,” Joel said, writing next to the printed words with red ink. “Everything looks good, though. Just apply the argument and assess the similarities between the two cases and you’re golden.” He hands you back the paper after writing his feedback.

“Great. Thank you for your help, Professor.”

“Call me Joel.”

You look at him a little confused. “Sir?” The word just slipped out of your mouth, and you didn’t realize what you’d just said until after the fact. Joel exhaled shakily out of his nose.

To change the subject, he took in your attire again. “What’ya doin’ dressed up all fancy like that?” He asks, leaning back in his chair. He was trying to distract his own mind from wandering places that it shouldn’t with you.

“Oh,” You laugh, and fuck if that wasn’t one of Joel’s new favorite sounds. “I have Professor Sanchez’s class before this. We had a group presentation today,” You turn away from him to put the paper back in your folder, so your back was facing him. You heard Joel get up from his chair, but his footsteps didn’t go far. It sounded like he was leaning up against his desk. “We basically had to give out a profile for a mock high stakes case.”

Joel hummed, and you whirred around to face him. His body looked elongated the way he leaned so cooly up against his mahogany desk, legs extended but crossed as his boots touched the ground, and his arms were crossed over his chest. He looked like a tall glass of water and you’d be damned if you didn’t get a sip.

“Professor Sanchez’s class sounds fun.” Joel quips, tilting his head.

“Yours is better.”

“Oh really? Why’s that?” He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself off of his desk, analyzing your body language again. He can tell by the way your legs are pressed together and the rising of your chest that you’re nervous, which makes him nearly smirk.

“More fun to learn about.” You shrug, trying to play it cool. You were certain he could see right through you, though, but neither of you were doing anything about it. You couldn’t help but have a hunch that Professor Miller might just want you the same way you want him. Maybe.

He huffs a chuckle and looks down at the linoleum tile on the floor, biting his tongue. You know he wants to say something, but he’s hesitant. So, you took the initiative and took a step closer to him, taking in his broad frame.

“Look, darlin’,” He starts, and your stomach flutters at the nickname. “I know you’re a grown woman and all, but you’re still my student.”

You tilt your head to the side in wonder, a ghost of a smirk on your lips. “What ever are you talking about, sir?” You’re playing with fire now as you take a step forward, just inches away from the man you’ve wanted to ruin you for so long.

“You know exactly–” He paused as you dragged your index finger down the side of his neck, to his exposed collarbone. “What I’m talkin’ about.”

“As far as I’m concerned, sir, we’re both consenting adults.” You drop your hand and shrug, your eyes feening innocence.

He sighs defeatedly, shaking his head.

“You’re not wrong about that. You don’t know how hard it’s been trying to keep my eyes to myself every time you walk into my classroom. And then you come in here looking like this?” Joel gestures to your whole body, and your heart is hammering in your chest.

“Never thought you’d look at me that way, Professor.” You confess.

“You kiddin’ me? You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life,” He scoffs as if he can’t believe you don’t see yourself in the same light that he does. He thinks for a moment before opening his mouth, then clamping it shut. It seems that he made a final decision when he sighs and closes his eyes, opening them to look directly into yours. His brown eyes were so mesmerizing, you almost didn’t hear him say his next words. “If you really want this, want me, follow me into my office.” He whispers, and you nod with subtle eagerness.

Holy fuck. You couldn’t believe this was happening. You trailed not too far behind him with your book bag slung over your shoulder, heels clicking against the floor in anticipation as you tried to keep up with his wide strides. You walked through a door in the classroom that led to a hallway with another door at the end. Joel unlocked the door and opened it for you, letting you in first. He trailed in hot on your heels and shut the door. He locked it and swiftly grabbed the softness of your hips, pushing you up against the door. You gasp softly, hands landing on his broad chest.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so beautiful.” Was all he said before he crashed his lips with yours, gripping one of your thighs and bringing it up to wrap around his waist. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thigh as your skirt rode to your hips, leaving you to feel just how hard Joel’s cock was getting.

You moaned into his mouth and tangled your fingers into his slightly graying hair, tugging the slightest bit. He pushed you even further into the door, grinding his hips into yours. You left out a soft whimper into his mouth, but he swallowed it right up when he swept his tongue over your bottom lip. You didn’t hesitate to let his tongue explore your mouth.

You both were clearly so ravenous for each other, and the clashing of tongues and teeth proved that. You gripped at each other like you’d both disappear and this would’ve been a sad, unfulfilling dream.

Joel pulled apart from your lips as he trailed his warm lips down your throat and to your collar bone, his hot tongue poking out to soothe tiny bites he made along the way.

“Joel, please.” You beg, not really sure for what though. You want him everywhere on you all at once. You wanted to drink him in like he was the last fucking water source in the world. You wanted to feel his burly muscles rippling beneath your hands as you became full of him, stretching you out so heavenly that you couldn’t even comprehend what was going on around you.

He moaned at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, and he pulled apart from you. He dragged you over to his desk, where he sat down in his large office chair and pulled you down to straddle one thigh of his.

“Go on, baby, use me.” He breathed, brushing the curve of your cheekbone softly. You leaned forward to kiss him again, finally registering what he meant. You settled your clothed core over his jean-clad thigh, grinding yourself onto him slowly at first. The friction was heavenly and you knew you were already close.

So many days and nights of fantasizing about this and how it’d go down, only for it to come true in the end, was truly otherworldly. His large hands moved down to unbutton a couple of more buttons on your shirt before moving down the curves of your body to rest on your ass, giving it a squeeze. You brought your hands onto his shoulders to steady yourself as you began to really ride his thigh.

You moaned softly and your eyebrows threaded together, the friction becoming nearly unbearable.

“Fuck.” You muttered, jaw going slack. Joel watched you in pure lust and amusement, waiting for you to soak a spot into his jeans. Seeing you like this, on top of him, riding his thigh, getting off because of him… made his head swirl with euphoria.

“That’s it, angel. C’mon. Give it to me, baby.” Joel encouraged, softly forcing his hands against your ass to get you to rut your hips a little faster.

“Fuck, fuck, Joel, I’m gonna– fuck!” You came hard on his thigh, and he nearly came in his pants at the sight. He felt the warm slick on his thigh, and he needed to get a taste of you.

“So good for me, sweet girl,” He murmured as he lifted you by your hips and set you down on his neat desk. Your skirt was already up to your hips, so Joel swiftly removed your soaked panties and stuffed them in his back pocket. “Let me just get a taste.” He said, looking down at you. Your cunt clenched around nothing at his words, silently begging him to devour you like you were his last meal.

He got down on his knees and pulled your ass closer to the edge of the desk by your thighs, hooking them around his shoulders as he came face-to-face with your glistening heat. “So fuckin’ pretty. This pussy’s mine.” Joel mewled, calloused fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs once more as his tongue circled your clit.

The drag of his muscle was slow, teasing. He took his time just to hear you beg for his mouth. He needed to hear it.

“Sir, please.” You softly whimper, and his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. His ran his tongue up and down your folds, swirling it a few times before it prodded your entrance. He delved his tongue inside of you, and you had to clamp your hand over your mouth in order to keep from screaming.

His tongue felt so warm and wet and heavenly in you and around your aching cunt, just begging to be devoured until you reach another orgasm. Joel is was moaning against you, and the vibrations shot straight up your core. It made your toes curl in your heels, and your hips buck up from the desk. He folded his hands on top of your stomach to keep you locked down, and you whined at the sensation.

You were panting heavily beneath your hand, trying to muffle the loud whines and moans that you emitted. Joel’s tongue kept working against you as he lapped up your slick, drinking you in like he was dehydrated in the desert. You tasted so good to him; like nectarine from the ripest peach.

He then solely focused his tongue on your clit, flicking over it rapidly before using his lips to lightly suck on it. Your nails from your free hand clawed at the desk, the feeling of overstimulation creeping in. You felt that low burning sensation in your core as your next orgasm began to build up. As if on cue, Joel swiftly detached his mouth from you as he gathered your slick on his middle finger, followed by his ring. He pushed his two fingers into your entrance slowly, relishing the tightness around his digits.

He latched his mouth back onto your clit, interchanging between licking and sucking. Your shaky thighs began to squeeze Joel’s head as your orgasm was about to peak.

Joel hummed against you as he curled his fingers , hitting that spongy spot inside of your cunt that had you rolling your eyes back as your body shook through your climax. You whimpered as he detached his mouth and removed his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean. The whole bottom half of his face was covered in your arousal, and he looked down at you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“So sweet f’me, baby. Could eat that perfect pussy all day.” He tossed you a shit-eating grin, and your thighs clamped shut as you tried to regain your breath. He leaned down to give you a kiss, and you tasted yourself on his tongue as he slipped it into your mouth. You could feel his painfully hard erection against your thigh, so you tried to muster up as much energy as you could to start taking off his belt.

Joel helped you by taking the rest of his belt off after you undid the buckle. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down just below his ass. He tugged his boxers down too so he could free his erection. Your mouth watered at the sight of his erect cock, head weeping and leaking pre cum.

“L’me taste you.” You managed to say in your already fucked-out state, but Joel shook his head.

“Next time, baby,” Next time. You pouted at him and he chuckled, cradling your face. “Now if you need to tap out, give me two hard taps on my thigh, okay angel?” You swallowed and nodded at his directions, and once again, you clenched around nothing.

“I’m– I have an IUD.” You say, and Joel looks down at you.

“Good.” Was all he said before putting both of his hands by your head, leaning down to kiss you gently. Without removing his lips from yours, he took one hand and guided the head of his cock over your aching folds. You were buzzing with anticipation, because the need to have him in you was almost unbearable.

He slowly prodded your entrance, then pushed himself in. You nearly choke on a gasp as he fills you up. You felt every ridge and vein on his silky, girthy flesh and you closed your eyes in pure ecstasy at the feeling. His cock was heavy in you, the weight adding to the extra pleasure you were already experiencing.

Joel looked at your face, admiring how it was contorted in pleasure and slight pain before he leaned down again to bite the soft flesh of your breast as he adjusted to your tightness.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, baby.” Joel moaned, standing upright after littering a few more kisses on your chest.

“Please move, Joel.” Was all you said before he began to rock his hips steadily. His thrusts were slow at first, but you tried to grind your hips against his for more friction. A few times your clit met the coarse hair at the base of his cock, and that gave you the friction you needed to clench around him so deliciously.

“This pretty pussy is all mine, y’hear me? So fuckin’ wet and tight, darlin’. Have me fuckin’ losin’ my mind,” Joel picks up his pace, slamming into you at an impossible rate. “Say it.” He warns, taking your breasts out from the cup of your bra.

“It’s–fuck, it’s all yours sir. All yours.” You couldn’t believe how good he felt as he fucked you like this, feverishly and buried to the hilt every single time.

“Good girl.” You moaned at the praise, and he leaned down to capture a swollen bud into his mouth. His hot tongue swirled around your flesh, sucking it and ever so slightly nipping it with his teeth. You hissed at the feeling, but it only spurred your arousal on further.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he fucked you, but he stood up and removed your legs from him and put them over his shoulders instead. The new angle made it easier for him to fuck you deeper. A dark glint passed in Joel’s eyes as you moaned loudly.

He gathered both of your wrists into one of his, pinning them above your head. The pace of his hips picked up, and all that was heard in the windowless room was the sound of skin on skin slapping together, your wonton moans, and Joel’s grunts. He moved his other hand over your throat, wrapping around it and giving the sides a squeeze as he fucked you senselessly. You felt that tight coil in the pit of your core once more, and you were writhing beneath Joel the best you could.

“Fuck, Joel, ‘m gonna cum again.”

“Go ‘head angel, cum f’me.” His deep Southern drawl is what sent you over the edge, crumbling down and shattering all at once as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out, and Joel quickly removed his hand from your throat and kissed you urgently, but the pace of his hips didn’t let up. He released your wrists next and your hands found purchase in his hair, raking their way down his back as you desperately tried to grab a hold on him.

It resulted in your nails scratching down his back, which he hissed at but didn’t seem to mind overall. Joel was chasing his own release as your slick cunt gripped him so desperately.

“C’mon baby, give me one more.” He grunted, gripping your hips so tightly you were sure there were going to be bruises. As if on command, your body beckoned to his call and you found yourself orgasming for the fourth time that day. A gush of liquid expelled from your overstimulated cunt, and a strangled cry left your mouth.

Joel was teetering on the edge, teeth clenched and brow furrowed. “Where do you want me, angel?” His voice was strangulated and desperate, both of you gasping for air.

“In me, Joel, please.” You cry, gently gripping at his hair as his head dropped to your shoulder, warm spurts of cum shooting into you. He groaned into your ear, cursing under his breath as he filled you to the brim.

He collapsed onto you, cradling the side of your face as he kissed you passionately.

“So good f’me, sweet girl. Y’did so well.” He praises, kissing your lips once more before standing up slowly and pulling himself out of your sensitive cunt.

You hummed as you tried to relish in the feeling of being so fucked out by one of the hottest men you’ve ever come to know in your life. You couldn’t believe that just happened, and your mind was swirling with a million thoughts per minute.

Joel helped you up onto shaky legs, grinning to himself at how fucked out you looked. He was sure he looked the same way, but he couldn’t care less.

“You have any classes after this, baby?” Joel asks as he buttons up your shirt for you. You shake your head no, your voice not quite caught up to you just yet.

“‘M going home to sleep. Im exhausted.” You sigh, leaning against him. He chuckles and kisses the top of your head, smoothing out any stray hairs that were misplaced from your activities.

“Get some rest, baby. Here. Take my number and I’ll call you.” He rips a piece of paper from a notebook laying nearby, scribbling his number on it before tucking it into the breast pocket of your shirt. You beam up at him, hand trailing up his torso to rest on his chest. Your other hand found purchase on the back of his neck, softly tugging him down to kiss him once more.

“Mm. Will do, Professor.” You playfully wink at him, and he taps your ass playfully before you unlock the door to his office.

He half smiled as he watched you walk away, admiring your beautiful body from behind. He called out to you one last time, hoping you’d text him asap that night.

“Don’t forget to fix your rough draft!”

tag list:

@cool-iguana ; @wannab-urs ; @bastardmandennis ; @nostalxgic ; @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin ; @pamasaur ; @planet-marz1

[iceandpeaches]

mad at the gods; luke castellan

pairings: luke castellan x fem!reader (implied demeter kid)

warnings: fighting, betrayal, possible angst?, not proofread

summary: what if y/n had betrayed camp instead of luke...

a/n: short blurb because assignments have been keeping me busy lately.. i have so many drafts sitting in my docs

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percy had just gotten back from his olympus, and the entirety of camp was cheering and clapping for him. he had just ended war, even you were happy for it. luke was stood beside you, overjoyed that he could finally spend some time with his girlfriend after the few hectic days he had keeping camp together.

soon, the evening was met with celebration and fireworks. you hated loud noise, so you and luke decided to reside in the inner parts of the forest. 

“what a celebration.”

“yeah i mean, percy stopped the war. of course there would be celebration.”

your hands shoved in the pockets of your cargo pants, fiddling with an object that you had put in it previously. your heart was racing. luke glanced up at you, brows furrowed as he wrapped his arms around you. 

“what’s wrong flower?”

your stomach drops, hand pressed against his chest; gently pushing him away. you nibble at your bottom lip, tears starting to form in your eyes. you reached into your pocket, slowly pulling out a sword larger than your usual dagger. luke simply watched, the sword causing him to back away.

“is that…?”

the sword was the length of your lower body, shining dark in your hands. 

“backbiter.”

you mumble, your chest rising and falling as you gripped the sword. even in the dark, you could see the concern in luke’s expression. backbiter wasn’t something you could just pull out, especially if it belonged to a god. luke reached in his own pocket, grabbing his own weapon.

“i… i don’t want to fight, luke.”

“then.. why did you do it?”

“i never meant to betray you, amore. i… i was mad at the gods. i’m sick and tired of trying to get my mother’s approval. i thought you of all people, would understand.”

luke’s mind flashed to all the times the two’s late night talks about the gods and how they wished they didn’t carry the responsibilities that came with them. you thought you’d be able to recruit luke, since you thought you two were on the same page, but apparently not. 

“what would your mother say?”

luke raised his sword pointing it at you, your grip tightening around backbiter. your lips quivered, unwilling to strike your weapon at your lover; but you had to do what you needed to do. you raised your sword, swinging at him. luke didn’t know whether to go easy on you, desperately trying to not hurt you at all. strands of your dark hair falling in your face as you fought hard, inhaling sharply when you felt a cut to your side. you drop your sword, grasping at your side. 

“flower i… i..”

you kneeled to pick up your sword, aimlessly slicing wherever on luke; sliced his calf. during the fight, you had already crossed the pillar twice; getting up still gripping your side and carving the last line to fully open the pillar. you turn to luke, his eyes glossy. in this moment, he desperately wanted you by his side to comfort him. you pointed the sword at him, hand shaking. 

“i’m sorry, luke. i... i love you.”

you ran through the portal, it closing behind you. luke was left in the dark, arm reached out toward the portal wishing you’d come back. he finally let himself go, only able to yell. tears streamed down his face, still in denial that you were now gone. 

“flower.. oh flower..”

[pa1nkill3r]

Day 2,557 [G.W]

[Pairing:] George Weasley x GN!Reader

[Summary:] A boy comes into the joke shop with his mother; It felt all too weird for the one-eared owner to feel so at ease, something he never felt for the past 7 years.

[Warnings:] angst, sad, major character death (not Fred obv), reincarnation, grief, mourning, swearing

[a/n:] Scrolling through facebook and getting videos of children talking about their past lives really intrigued me. This is my first fic and it might be bad so please don’t bully me, I’m sensitive <3 (jkjk but I am open for constructive criticism!)

[a/n; March 2024] I wrote this draft back in 2021 or 2022 I believe, waiting desperately for the opportunity to finish and post this. That time never came. Now, 2 or 3 years later, I gravely admire my vocabulary, creativity, and passion for writing back then. Honestly speaking, moving schools killed my spark and I am desperate to get it back. For now, I am working on reviving that spark within me by going back to where I started. Even though the HP fandom isn't as active as it used to be, I would still like to share this piece I made because I am so, so proud of my younger self.

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There was something about Y/N wearing white that George loved so much. He always got so giddy and cute which in turn made their eyes roll and mouth grin.

The way Y/N looked sitting at the Great Hall with their white sleeves rolled to their elbows, one hand under their chin and the other twirling a spoon while their eyes dragged along their charms textbook, cramming in as much information as they could for the upcoming test that afternoon. 

Or that time at the Yule Ball when they thought it’d be funny to wear an all white ensemble because: “What?...I wanted to feel like a bride at their wedding.” whilst having the best night with George, their “groom”.

Even small moments like when they would steal a shirt from George’s drawer and wear it to sleep. He loved every single bit of it, even if it cost him many shirts.

He truly never got enough of them wearing white. So seeing them in a casket wearing that same color 7 years ago, looking so peaceful and so… dead. That killed him. That’s the last time he will see them in white; That’s the last time he’s going to see them at all. 

That was the last time he could actually feel their hand rather than just dried oil on linen canvas, framed in oak and hung atop his bed. How he wished their eyes could roll one more time at how stupidly in love their boyfriend is with them, especially in white.

Voldemort’s reign of terror had ended, as well as the lives of many others, and maybe even George. They were a horcrux he never made, his life force created by deep love and affection rather than the hunger for immortality.

It never got easier even after 7 years, he simply just got used to it. 

He got used to the feeling of an empty bed. He got used to gripping onto a cold body pillow instead of a warm figure and a heartbeat with Y/H/C hair disturbing his lips. He got used to counting the days since their death which gravely disturbed Fred, his twin. He got used to waking up everyday and checked off a box from the calendar with an absurd amount of numbers on it. 

Admittedly he is doing better than he did 7 years ago. No more jumping from every small sound and drawing out his wand in the middle of the night. No more vivid dreams of several dead bodies laid across the Great Hall. No more crying himself to sleep. No more missed dinners. No more grieving. 

He’s longed for them longer than he has actually been with them. But his love never faltered. Not once. 

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Day 2,557

It's now exactly 7 years since the Battle of Hogwarts. And in a month it would be the 7th anniversary of his obituary for Y/N on the Daily Prophet, a suggestion made by Percy to try and help his grieving brother. It helped, but not really. 

The small May 2nd, 2005 box wrote “Baby Vic’s Birthday!” in bold red ink. George moved the yellow paper star that stuck gently onto the calendar with paper tape as Fred walked into his room. Envelope in his hands, bread between his teeth, and a beautiful haughty looking owl on his shoulder.

“Fun to finally see you up, Georgie!” Fred greeted sarcastically as George hummed in response. “Bill just sent an owl that little Vicky’s turning 5!"

"That is usually how birthdays work, Freddie." George joked, grabbing his wand and with a flick, his bed is magically fixed. "I'm not a dumbass, you know?" Fred chuckled lightly as he handed George the letter from Bill and Fleur, "They're hosting a party for her at the Burrow at 5."

He took the piece of parchment and flattened it by his desk before pulling it closer to his face, his back mindlessly pinning itself to the wall. 

Dear Fred and George, 

Bill here, As you should know, it's baby Victoire's 5th birthday today and we would really like love to have you two come by the Burrow at 5 pm. 

Vic really misses you both. Uncle George this, Uncle Fred that. She’s going to be like you two one day, I’m tellin’ ya. She loves listening to stories you tell her, especially the ones about Y/N and Tonks. She thinks that they’re the coolest people ever and that she wished she could meet them. I simply told her that one day she would, but it’ll be far far away from now. 

Hope to see you later! Please owl back immediately, Vic’s got Ginny’s temper.

xx Bill

“I’ve already owled them my ‘happy birthday’ letter before Chouette came.” Chouette, the owl cooed at the mention of her name. Slightly shuffling her feathers therefore lightly tickling Fred's neck, making him shiver. The haughty owl flew from Fred's shoulder to George's making the younger twin chuckle. 

"Seems like Chouette is telling you to take a bath, mate." George laughed as the back of Fred's hand flew to his forehead. "I got us crepes and bread for breakfast! And you go on and call me stinky?" Fred exclaimed dramatically. 

"How 'bout you be a dear and write to Bill and Fleur that we are going to Vic's party, alright?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do that." George agreed, taking out a roll of parchment from his desk drawer as well as a quill and a bottle of ink. "While I eat my breakfast and write this, will you be a dear and take a bath!" Fred cackled at his younger brother's statement. Though in a bit the sound of water dropping down the shower head echoed through the small flat above the shop.

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School owls poured in as numerous Hogwarts students wanted to take advantage of the annual “54% off ‘End of War’ sale” at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes held in memory of the fallen 50. Because in Fred and George’s philosophy, “...We might not be able to save them, but they can save our customers over 50% off of all our products!”

It seemed insensitive but it’s the thought that counts. They wanted to make sure that their passing didn’t go to waste, even if it is counted as a discount to the famous Diagon Alley shop. 

Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley were rather busy picking up and shipping out their joke products, sending it to the owls who were perched up in a little area at the back of the store, nibbling on insects Verity; a part of their staff had handed them before sending them back to the school her bosses previously dropped out of. 

It was nearing lunch time when everyone wearing magenta robes stocked up the shelves again, having been sending out owls since 8 in the morning when they heard a clanging from the front doors, signaling that a customer had finally came; A middle aged woman looked starstruck whilst holding onto a young boy that’s slowly getting out of her grip, having the same eagerness as his mother.

It wasn’t unusual for customers to react this way coming into the Weasley’s joke shop. The boy’s eyes sparkled while the mother looked in admiration. The mother crouched down to hold onto her son, keeping him from running while his mouth spilled with words. 

“Mum, we have to get something for Mia!” the boy cried out eagerly, eyes darting towards every single corner of the store. George’s mouth upturned into a sloppy grin whilst listening to the boy. 

“Marty, that’s sweet of you, but we already got the quill she wanted.” The mother said quietly, running her hands over the boy’s shoulders, easing it. “And it’s your birthday...” George didn’t know what came after that as he took the chance and walked towards the small family with a big smile on his face, quickly followed by Fred. 

“Heard it’s a little man’s birthday.” inclined George, hands in his pockets and head down turned. The mother looked up and stood from her spot, giggling slightly as she kept a hold of her son’s shoulders. “What’s your name?” he asked, now being the one to crouch down in front of the boy.

The boy tilted his head to the side, eyes slightly strained. He looked both confused and hyper focused at the same moment. Though weird, George thought nothing of it. After all, he was a kid, the man he’s looking at has one ear, and the hyperfixation was quickly ended by the slight shake of his shoulders. The mother looked down at her son, silently telling him to introduce himself. And so he did. 

"I'm Martin! I turn 6 today!" the boy said enthusiastically,bringing a smile on George's face. Being around Martin felt odd, it felt so unapologetically peaceful and rather… familiar. 

"SIX?!" Fred loudly piped in. "Well now that's big, little man!" 

The mother was slightly startled by the appearance of the ginger's twin, though the same cannot be said about Martin who simply smiled absentmindedly. 

"I knew you before." said Martin, eyes targeting the younger twin. George smiled and kept close to the boy, keeping the conversation going. "Really?" he asked with vivid curiosity, he did not recognise the boy or his mother but fueling a child's imagination wouldn't hurt anyone. 

"How?" piped in Fred, now also crouching beside his twin, "And why just him?" he asked comedically, pointing to his brother. 

"Since we were 11." Answered Martin with no signs of struggle on his face. The red haired owners looked at each other, though more in disbelief than in confusion. 

"Thought you said you were 6, Martin?" George asked with a kind look on his face. The boy’s mother shook her son’s shoulder harder than she did the past few times, mumbling “Marty, what did I tell you?” in tired disbelief.

“M’sorry mum.” Martin said with a pinch of sincerity before turning back to face the bigger man in front of him. “I was 20 before I became 6.” “Marty.”

Chilling, the owners thought. As they were 20 at the time of the battle of Hogwarts. 

“I’m so sorry Mr.--”

“Weasley.” Fred replied as the confusion simmered throughout his twin brother. “S’really nothing to worry about Mrs.--?”

“Edevane. But I truly am sorry, he’s just a very imaginative little kid. Always has stories of his quote-unquote ‘past life’.“ she explained, making the kid become a bit mad. “But mum, it’s true!-”

“Marty, how about we look around the store, alright? Mr. and Mr. Weasley could show us around perhaps?” Mrs. Edevane hinted to the twin owners, relief gracing their legs as they were now able to stand on their feet. 

“Yes, we can certainly do that! Come along Marty, tell us more about this ‘past life’ of yours.” Fred’s arm wrapped around the small boy’s shoulders, showing him around the color filled shop. “Sorry about that Mrs. Edevane.” he added mischievously, “Here at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, we like to encourage creativity and imagination.”

“--As it is the reason we got here.” George finished, giving Mrs. Edevane a kind smile as they start roaming around the shop. “Uhh. Mr. Weasley.” Her fingers tapped onto George’s shoulder. His head whipped around and mouth about to open when suddenly the 6 year old spoke; “Mum, Mr. Weasley’s name is George. This one’s Fred.”

The utter shock that went through the twin wizards was clear as day. No where in the shop did it say the owner’s names. Even their name tags; The little badge pinned on their suits merely wrote ‘Mr. Weasley’. Fred, being the initiator that he is, leaned forward. “Now how can you be so sure, Marty?” he teased, “What if I tell you that you’re wrong?”

Martin simply smiled, angling his head a bit to the side again. “Mr. George has a longer face, down turned eyes and eyebrows, he’s a bit taller than you, Mr. Fred. You have a squarer face and shorter features than him.” he explained smoothly and innocently. As if it’s something he’s observed over the course of his whole life.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid your son’s a genius.” George joked, even if he’s visibly disturbed, though nonetheless intrigued. Nobody has ever differentiated them this way, even their own mother. Though one person did. The one he cherished most. The mother smiled, holding onto her son once again. 

“I’m no genius.” Martin spoke, a shy smile gracing his small little lips, so identical to the person’s portrait above George’s bed. He even said their typical response to their mind being praised. 

“-- I just quietly observe.”

Martin spoke but George merely whispered. A shiver ran through his spine, heart pumping, cold sweat dripping from his forehead. It could’ve all been a coincidence. One big coincidence served on a silver platter, garnished with confusion and terrifying accuracy. 

“Mr. Weasley?”

He snapped back, giving the woman a sign to continue. “Uh, I just wanted to ask... err. Why that big of a discount? Why is it 54% off of everything? That doesn’t really sound like a good marketing strategy, doesn’t it?” She asked curiously. 

“Well Mrs. Edevane.” George started, seeing as Fred and little Martin were still going around the shop. “Remember the last wizarding war?” Mrs. Edevane shook her head. His smile faltered a bit but still kept his composure. “We’re, what you call it? Muggle--born?” Her eyebrows furrowed while her teeth sinked into her bottom lip. “Well, my daughter... err. Just started her first year and that McGonagall woman said that she’s a ‘muggleborn’.” 

They truly didn’t know who they are.

“-- What I’m trying to say, Mr. Weasley, is that we, or at least I, am not magical. Nor is my husband.” He nodded, breathed in a bit as his mind tried to ease itself. The boy couldn’t have known who he is as they wouldn’t have known anything about the prophet, or could they?

“Well, Mrs. Edevane. 7 years ago at this date. The second wizarding war has ended. My brother-in-law defeated... him.” It was still hard to say his name, even years later. “V-Voldemort.”

She looked curious but silently let him continue. “Uh, remember when. Uh-uhm that bridge collapsed in muggle london? 7-8 years ago? A big hurricane happened? When a lot died like-” It was hard to explain. Truly. It was hard to live through it again.

“Like that Emmeline Vance lady?”

“Yes, exactly!” He exclaimed. “It was all caused by him. By wizards! Dark wizards!” Her previously bright face now looked horror struck. It was all making sense. “Seven years ago, this day. Everything ended at Hogwarts. As well as the lives of 54 on our side.” He wanted to mention one very special loss, but figured that she doesn’t need to know about it. She was just a muggle mother who brought her son birthday shopping. “We wanted to commemorate them.”

A sincere look graced upon her face, out of pity. “Is there any chance that you’ve seen anything from the ‘Daily Prophet’, Mrs. Edevane? Or your son?” He asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She shook her head, now gracing a look with pure confusion. “A-Anything. Like a paper? A newspaper with moving photographs? Or maybe a-a Quibbler?”

She shook her head. “Why’re you asking Mr. Weasley?” His mouth opened, about to burst out his concerns and held in grief to a complete stranger when; “George!”

It was Fred, hand resting on his twin’s shoulder as the six year old boy beside him just stood. “-- Can I talk to you? I need to talk to you.” He said, fright gracing his features and panic in his voice. 

George nodded, bidding a quick goodbye to the mother and son who came in a few moments ago and calling for one of their faculty to give them the tour they wanted.

Fred pulled his twin to an empty corner of the shop. Sound muffled by the stacks of products ranging from fireworks to extendable ears. “That boy George.” Fred panted. Voice shaking. “He knows too much. Is there a chance that you put anything about how Y/N saved me?”

“Briefly. Why?” His heart was about to pop out of his chest at any moment. Any moment now his heart would be a new WWW product. 

“He explained everything! Everything George! Knew things that he shouldn’t have!” Fred said, terrified. “What did he say?” asked George. Croaking out whatever’s left in his heaving lungs. 

“He said that he saved me. Me and Percy! From the explosion! I didn’t think much of it at first, George! I knew that you wrote that in their obituary. But he just kept going.” Frightened. They were both frightened. “Everything they did. He knew.”

“How accurate was he?”

“Very. George. Disturbingly accurate.” Back straightened and composed, Fred stood back, eyes darting back and forth from his brother to the entrance of the shop. “He knew that they transfigured the rubble to sand. He knew that they cast that ring of fire shit they did. The diabolica thing to ward off the death eaters? Yeah. He named the spell. HE NAMED THE SPELL, GEORGE!”

“I heard you the first time!” George yelled back. Disturbed, yet he felt at peace. He could have the last goodbye he’s always wanted. “We need to talk to the boy, Fred.”

His twin nodded fervently, about to walk away from the corner when he felt an arm tug on his elbow. “Oi, how can we do it without worrying the mother?”

“Give whatever he wants for free. It’s his birthday after all. Now come on!”

╰┈➤✎*+:｡.｡⋆·˚ ༘ **ੈ✩‧₊˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

[bunny-eats-fox]

about first times

miyamura izumi warnings: jealous reader ; sex/18+/SMUT; ends in fluff wc: 3,2k an: this was a request! and while I am rather "meh" regarding them, like i do them when i like them sort of thing, i couldn't say not to his prompt! thank u 🫶 request: "Hey, okay? I don't know if you accept requests.... if so, could you write something for Miyamura, where the reader is jealous of him with Hori? (If you can write some hot stuff too... )Thanks!!"

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

"I'm here"

When this notification popped up, you couldn't stop your lips from curving into a smile.

"I'll quickly finish up, I'll be down in 10! O((>ω< ))o" That's what you hastily typed before you turned back to your laptop screen.

After another 5 minutes, you had finally finished draft number three of the new contract your firm was about to conclude. It was a big responsibility for you, your biggest yet, but you were thankful for the chance, hence overtime was sometimes inevitable. Since it was 100% compensated and, thankfully, not too often you had to stay late, you didn't mind that much. Especially because your boyfriend of three years was ever so kind to pick you up then. That way you were home just a little bit earlier.

When you finally packed your bag, you hurried out of your office into the elevator. Excited for that Thursday to have ended, and thus the weekend being only one more day away, you rushed out of the elevator once it hit ground floor. 

However, the swift clicking of your heels against the tile flooring suddenly fell silent once you stopped abruptly in your track. Through the big glass windows of the lobby you saw Izumi… and his ex. 

It wasn't like you hated Hori or anything; especially since she hadn't been in contact with Miyamura for over 4 years (according to him). There was no reason for you to hide, rather the opposite. You would go out there and confidently greet her.

However, as you wanted to start walking again, you stopped when you saw your boyfriend and Hori laughing. A sting in your heart made you gulp and clutch your bag a tad bit tighter. It wasn't even the polite little laugh one did to not make such a meeting awkward, no - it was a tummy clutching hearty laughter that had Miyamura and Hori bend forwards. 

The twinge of jealousy you suddenly felt stopped you completely for a moment. You knew there wasn't a reason for you to get jealous. It was admirable to be on good terms with your ex-lover. Plus, you trusted Izumi. 

Yet, when she finally waved and left, you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Hopefully, you can quickly get over that weird tenseness that had now filled your body after you had witnessed that. 

As you finally wanted to get out of your office, you stopped once more. 

"(Y/n)-san, good work today."

"Tachibana-san!", you bowed lightly and then smiled at him, "Good work today, Tachibana-san."

Your boss, a handsome 27-year old, held you back from leaving for just a little longer. Though, as you happily told him about the progress you had made regarding the new contract, you were oblivious to the fact that the young man had put his hand on your back. Too engrossed in the conversation, you didn't realize and only when he excused himself after wishing you a good evening, you thought you had felt something slide down your back to your hips. Though, as it was gone, you didn't think about it further. 

Instead, you finally left the building after your boss and rushed to your lover.

"I'm so sorry you had to wait, Izumi!" You openly hugged him and your boyfriend immediately put his arms around you as well. 

"No, don't worry about it. You've worked hard.", he smiled and then kissed your forehead.

Everything was okay. You hoped you quickly forgot what you had seen today as you got into the car and drove back to your shared apartment.

#

After dinner and your usual night routine, you sat on your bed together with him as you moisturized your legs. Even though you were a little… miffed he didn't tell you about Hori, you hoped you didn't show it. There was no reason to get emotional about that. They just had a good laugh together, nothing more.

Though, everything went wrong when he suddenly started, "So… who was the man you were talking to?" 

"Hm?" You were honestly surprised as you looked at him in confusion.

"You know, the dark haired, good looking one before you came out.", he specified. 

"Ohh…", somehow you didn't like his tone, "That was my boss."

"Pretty young for someone leading such a big firm." Izumi didn't look at you as he rummaged through his nightstand.

"Yeah… his father died last year so he unexpectedly had to take over. He is really nice though and hard working."

The mood was, for whatever reason, a little tense.

"Hah yeah I can see he is really working hard to flirt with his subordinates."

"Excuse me?", you raised an eyebrow. 

"(Y/n), I saw you and him." Izumi finally turned to you. "His hand was on your back and he was super close, too."

You scoffed speechlessly and just looked at him as if he was the crazy one. 

"He was being friendly?" Why did you defend your boss? It was true that you had felt something, so it was Tachibana's hand? 

"Friendly?? Right, because when I am friendly I touch someone like that.", Izumi clicked his tongue and then turned around to lay down, "Whatever."

When he turned his back to you, you couldn't hold back any longer, "No, I know. When you are being friendly, you just laugh hysterically with your ex, right? Must have been a reeeally fun conversation you had with her."

Finally, Miyamura turned around again and looked at you utterly surprised.

"That's right. I saw you too. And you didn't even tell me you met Hori today." After you had desperately tried to keep your cool, it was finally over as tears sprung to your eyes. Goodness, when will you learn not to cry in conversations like these?

"So don't get all huffy now telling me my boss is flirting with me when you have the greatest fucking time with your ex just outside my damn office.", you choked on the last words a little and then threw a pillow into his face.

"Ah, (Y/n)-"

"Shut up! I'm going to sleep!", you yelled before you turned around and slipped under your warm blanket, your back facing your boyfriend.

And all Izumi could do was listen to the light sniffles and watch your trembling form underneath the blanket as he lay back himself, wondering why he was such an idiot. 

#

The next day, you and him didn't talk. Still miffed, you put on your heels before you grabbed your bag. Honestly, you would have just left without saying anything, but Izumi had something different in mind when he came to the front door. At first, you ignored him, though he didn't really care about that as he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. For just a few seconds, you felt his soft lips on yours, leaving you speechless for a moment.

"See you later. Come home safely.", he said like all the days prior as he pushed your lunch bag into your hands.. 

"Mh…thanks, you too… Love you.", you then mumbled loud enough and quickly walked out the door, though you still heard his "Love you too" before it closed fully.

With a loudly thumping heart, you walked to the bus station, undoubtedly happy about what he did. It certainly made you realize that you would have made a grand mistake walking out the house like that. Life truly was unpredictable and leaving the house without a single goodbye or loving word was not right. Despite your little fight, Izumi still knew that.

You were so embarrassed right now for acting that childish that you were glad the bus came quickly just so could hide in a corner and truly reflect on your little quarrel.

#

When you finally were able to eat your lunch, you just wanted a quiet moment to yourself, however…

"(Y/n)-san!)", a cheerful voice called out to you and you watched your boss approaching you.

"(Y/n)-san, you didn't eat your lunch yet?", though he didn't give you a chance to answer, "So, I thought I'd ask if you'd like to join today?" Tachibana reached out his hand and squeezed your shoulder.

That's when it finally clicked: Izumi was right. Your boss was shamelessly flirting with you - and that in front of everyone too!

"I'm so sorry, Tachibana-san thank you for the invitation, but I've been looking forward to eating my boyfriend's bento since he gave it to me this morning.", you politely said with a smile, but deliberately mentioned Miyamura, hoping he would get the hint as you also politely, but firmly, pushed his hand away from your shoulder.

Tachibana's face slightly derailed, but he swiftly had his composure back as he forced a smile and nodded. 

"Of course… Then, if you'll excuse me.", he still smiled before he walked off.

Sighing, you turned back to your desk. Thankfully, your coworkers didn't say anything (to your face at least) as you opened your lunch bag. Every day, even though he had to work himself, he got up and made you a bento.

You felt the tears already, but you didn't want to cry while you stuffed your face with Miyamura's cooking.  

You felt even more horrible about what had happened. Especially because he was totally right, your boss did flirt with you and you just showed him your nasty side by being jealous. Even though you did trust Izumi, you really did. It was just… whenever you saw Hori, you got reminded of the fact that she got all of Izumi's first times. Because for you, Izumi was your first everything. You met when you were 20 and while he had experienced all those "first times" already, you hadn't even romantically held hands with someone before that. So sometimes you wondered if he didn't regret splitting with his "first love", especially because you had heard from a young age that “the first love was like no other love, it can never be forgotten” and stuff like that. Hence why it made you insecure sometimes that he would want to go back to his first love where he got to experienced all those other firsts as well…

"I have to apologize… no matter what…that was childish of me.", you mumbled to yourself once you finished your delicious lunch.

With new motivation and determination, you went back to work.

#

With a deep sigh, you got ready to finally leave the office. Even though you got off on time, the thought of using public transportation made you grumble. Usually, you might have ended up calling Izumi to pick you up, since he usually closed the shop for the day at that point, however, that wasn't an option now. Not after you left like that this morning.

Though, when you stepped out of the elevator and walked to the big front entrance, you saw a familiar silhouette through the glasses of the door and windows. Even though Tachibana came around the corner just in that moment and called for you, you didn't even realize. Too fixated, you rushed past him, your heels frantically clicking on the tile flooring as you pushed the doors open and…

Indeed, Izumi leaned against the car and waited for you. Once he looked up, a smile adorned his face and that's when you ran the last few meters just to throw yourself at him.

"I'm sorry. I was a jealous idiot and you were right about Tachib-" However, Izumi interrupted you when his hands gently tilted back your head so he could silence you with a kiss.

"I’m sorry too. I should have brought it up differently. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you about-" It was your time to silence him with a kiss, before you shook your head.

"It's fine. Really."

Then you hugged each other tightly. Izumi, nor you cared about the fact that you stood right in front of your office building and in the middle of the streets. Rather…when Miyamura just glanced into the building's direction, he saw your boss; he stood at the front windows, watching you two. It took everything in Izumi to not do anything inappropriate, so he just resumed to hugging you tighter and kissing your cute little side profile. If your boss ever touched you again, he might not have been so tame though.

#

With tangled mouths, Izumi somehow managed to open your shared apartment door so he could pull you inside in a haste. Clumsily, you both stumbled through the entrance, mouths never apart as he swiftly kicked the door close. A muffled moan escaped your lips when your boyfriend pushed you against the now closed door. Though, you didn't resist, rather, you pulled him in even closer, your tongues entwined as his hands roamed your body. 

Izumi didn't even bother to open your blazer or blouse, instead, he opened the zipper of your pencil skirt and in one motion, he pulled it down so it pooled around your ankles.  You didn't even have time to take off your pumps had he already grabbed your leg and pulled it up.

"Is it okay?", he asked breathlessly, which only elicited a small giggle from you.

"Mmn." You nodded and hummed approvingly, your hands already working on the zipper of his jeans.

That was all Izumi needed. Once his own pants and boxers pooled somewhere around his knees, he needily pushed your underwear to the side (because he really couldn't be bothered to pull it down). 

With your help, he guided his aching cock into your dripping core, eliciting moans and grunts from you both. Miyamura filled you just the right way that it made you tremble. 

"Fuck… you're so wet. It's so good.", your boyfriend grunted between gritted teeth. And you could just whimper in agreement as he started thrusting relentlessly without letting you catch your breath for a moment. 

All you could do was grab onto him as Izumi moved his hips desperately and hard, grinding against that deepest spot inside you. Your back hit the apartment door and you were pretty sure neighbors could hear your moaning, despite your efforts to muffle it by burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"Izumi!! Izum- nghhgg, d-don't…I…", you tried to get through to your boyfriend and he did stop relentlessly attacking your g-spot for a second.

"Does it hurt?", he asked in between heavy gasps holding you firmly pushed against the door. Yet, he gently kissed the side of head, his voice full of concern when he whispered, "Want me to stop?"

Though you just shook your head and hugged him even tighter (if that was even possible), "N-no it just…feels too good…my voice…will- MNGHG!", you harshly bit your lip when Izumi angled his hips a certain way to thrust deeply into you.

"You're so cute.", he whispered, though a small smirk played around his lips which made you pout. And then, he was back to burying himself over and over into your dripping pussy. The noises from your needy and desperate love-making were loud and so erotic.

Even though you were embarrassed that you stood at the front door, going at it like rabbits, there was also something inside you that didn't care if anyone would hear. Right now, all you were capable of doing was to hang onto him and let that bliss sweep you both away.

#

"Haaahhh~", you let out a blissful sigh while you relaxed against him. Even though it was pretty crammed in the small bathtub, neither of you cared.

Compared to yesterday, it was a comfortable silence as you cuddled together. As Izumi littered kisses all over your shoulder and neck, your thoughts once again drifted back to how you felt yesterday and how unnecessary that stupid fight was.

"Izumi?"

"Mmn?"

"About yesterday…I really am sorry. You know, it's not that I don't trust you. It's just.. ", you fiddled with your fingers trying to find the right words. Thankfully, he waited for you and just squeezed your thigh gently.

"It's just, uhhmm, you know, sometimes I…I get kinda jealous thinking about how Hori was your first everything and…  that she got to have that all. I just wish I could have gotten to know you sooner and experience that with you …Ahhh just saying it out loud, it sounds so stupid. I'm really sorry." You shyly moaned at the end and buried your face in your hands.

For a moment, Miyamura didn't say anything, before a gentle laugh was heard. Squeezing you just a tad bit tighter, he nuzzled his head against your own before he said, "You're seriously adorable, (Y/n)."

"Mmmnnn don't say that… I'm really stupid.", you mumbled, though Izumi shook his head with a little chuckle.

"There is really nothing to worry about, (Y/n). She might have had a few of my first times, but definitely not all of them. The first time I'm living together with someone besides my parents, is with you. I’ve also never made a bento for someone before, but I couldn’t help myself when I saw how hard you were working and I love that you always compliment my cooking, it’s my little treasure.", he giggled and kissed the back of your hands until you finally lowered them so his beautiful blue eyes could stare directly into your soul, "And there are still many firsts to come…even now…”

"Eh? Wha-?" 

Though before you could even say anything else, his hand touched your cheek and pulled you in really close before he whispered in your ear, "Aishiteru."

When Izumi rose again, the look on your face was priceless. Your beautiful eyes opened wide, mouth opened in disbelief and the sudden heat from your cheek transmitted onto the palm of his hand made his heart jump in response.

You were truly speechless for a moment, but also so incredibly happy. Hence why you just couldn’t stop the tears from blurring your vision. Without hesitation, you hugged him tightly and so suddenly that the water in the tub overflowed, though you both didn’t care when you held each other close.

And then, you returned those words.

Just like that, Izumi’s cheeks also turned a cute shade of red as he quickly buried his face in the crook of your neck. Even though he just said it himself, hearing it back from the one he loved the most was truly… exhilarating and even Izumi had to fight back those tears of happiness.

That surely was a “first time” you didn’t even think about receiving any time soon, but it only made your heart melt more, knowing that you were the first in his life to hear those special words. And it wasn’t any different for Miyamura himself, because he had felt the urge to tell you for quite a while now, but never knew when and he didn’t just want to randomly say it one day. Though, it couldn’t have been a better timing than this. Because even if there were some bad days, at the end of it, you could be sure that the love you had for each other was like no other and there were still many first he wanted to experience together with you.

__________________________

all characters canonically under 18 are always aged up in nsfw scenarios ; english is not my native language so i apologize for any mistakes ;

[rosyjuly]

Re: your recent frivolities, I’m chewing on non-driver galex on a little drunk friend party weekend in the mountains warm from drinking almost too much, fumbling around in the starry dark trying not to get caught for some inscrutable reason idk i just think it’s COMPELLING and would like your scholarly opinion!!!

The longhouse in Devon has been George’s idea; something he could plan sprawled on the couch after a long day, something to hold onto when he got yet another pls fix email for the contract he drafted, now annotated with question marks and no-s. It was a small miracle that they even found a time that worked for all of them, even if it was a bit awkward timing, the first weekend of December that Lando and Alex both marked with if need be in the Doodle, something about marketing being overwhelmed with the Christmas fuckery, or whatever Lando was trying to say in the dozen texts he sent into the groupchat. 

‘You can really tell he’s doing the socials, always on his phone’, Alex texted him in private, followed by a screenshot of trading his Sunday shift with one of his buddies. 

It’s been a few years since they last managed to get the whole gang together for a getaway. The last time, George was doing his CPQ, begging off in the early afternoons to cram for his exams, locking the door to their room with Alex and ignoring the ruckus outside. He picked Alex up at the vet clinic, let him sleep off the overnight shift on the drive there, the roads first slow in the London traffic, then clearing up as they finally left the city. 

It’s easy to tell the lads that he’s missed them after everyone is loose-limbed with mulled wine, especially with Alex’s hand big and familiar on his waist, warmth seeping through his t-shirt. When Alex’s thumb begins to stroke the line of his ribcage, slow and soft, George takes a look at him; but Alex is listening to Charles intently, nodding along the story that George has lost track of five minutes and two sub-stories ago. 

So George can be normal. He knocks back a shot with Daniel and then carefully puts the glass down on the counter; just behind Alex so he can press his arm along the strong line of his back. Alex leans back, his other hand coming to rest on George’s waist as well, and he can feel himself flush as he tries to imagine how it must look, Alex’s clever hands framing his torso like that, the hands that can soothe a wounded animal or hold down a desperate creature all the same. 

“Cold?” Alex asks, as quiet as he can manage over the music, when a shiver rakes through George’s body at the thought. George risks another glance; this time, Alex is looking at him, lashes fanning his dark eyes, like he’s considering his hands on George, too, and some long-buried hope flickers alive again in him. 

“Not at all, mate,” George tells him. He drags the vape out of his pocket and shows it to Alex – the bar is a pretty, deep purple, one of the less ridiculous ones Pierre has brought. “Wanna go out for a smoke?” 

“God, I wish it was a smoke instead of that kid flavoured abomination,” Alex sighs, but his hands tighten on George’s waist quite agreeable. They fetch their coat in silence, stepping outside without much fanfare. When George inclines his head, Alex raises a half-mocking eyebrow, but follows him behind the corner all the same, crowding into his space when George leans against the wall. 

“If you knew just half the shit these can cause, you’d be a lot less eager,” Alex says, nodding at the vape. George doesn’t give a shit about the vape; has taken it in hopes for exactly this, Alex lecturing him a little, his attention finally on George and only George. 

“You know I can be plenty eager,” he tells Alex, and the second Alex’s eyes go dark and wanton, he feels drunker than the whole night. 

“I do know that,” Alex says, now pressing impossibly closer, strong and warm and perfect all over. “You wanna remind me?” 

“Always,” George says, and then he barely notices when he drops the stupid vape, too busy rediscovering how Alex tastes and how his now thicker thigh still fits so nicely between his legs, firm and tantalizing.

[astradreaming]

Sleepover with Sirius! Use of a muggle air bed, blanket forts, and chocolate! Even better if it's a beach vacation! Thank you!

SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG LOVE IT GOT LOST IN MY DRAFTS</3 I hope it's what you wanted, I tried to make it cheesy cute <3 Word count: 992 ♡ Hope you enjoy it! Have a good day/night lovely's ♡

masterlist

It was currently 2:43 am on a Saturday. You're currently sitting on the bed and pillows provided by none other than one of your best friends' James Potter, who was leaning against the wall crumbling the corner of a Queen poster in the process, another of your best friends, Sirius lay on his side leaning up slightly on his outstretched elbow at you.

Across the room sat Peter, face smooshed into the side of the bean bag in which he was currently slouched against, fast asleep unaware of the outside world. James leaned up against the bed you and Sirius were currently occupying, an arm thrown up as a makeshift pillow as he sat sound asleep on his obnoxious gryffindor red rug. Remus who sat at James' desk sat back in the chair, his book lying flat on his chest, no doubt losing his bookmark, his head leaned back, his sleeping face looking up at the ceiling.

Whispers back and forth keeping you and Sirius awake. First, it was him reeling you back to reality taking you away from the soft grasps of sleep as he told you about his latest quidditch practice and how 'James was a complete cheater'. Then, it was you stealing his precious hours of sleep as you remembered what Jessica Snips had told you on the train as you'd all left for the summer break.

Originally you were going to spend your last summer vacation before you all graduated at Marlene Mckinnon's beach house with your other friends, Lily Evans and Mary Macdonald but then James asked if you'd wanted to stay with him and the boys at his house. As much as you loved the girls, you'd seen them almost every day in your shared dorm rooms while you have few and far between classes with the boys especially when their altogether.

James was like your brother in almost every sense of the word. You, James, and Marlene were all childhood best friends, growing up next to each other. James' house was in the middle, Marlene's to the left and yours to the right. All of you got sorted into Gryffindor together.

You'd become an animagus with them for Remus. You'd been there at James' when Sirius had turned up after running away. You were the one Peter went to when he had a crush on Sandy Millers the face of Hufflepuff. You were there when Lily had slapped Snivillus Severus after what he'd called her. You were the go-between when Marlene and Sirius were in their on-off stage. And you were there when Lily finally said yes to James. And you were there when Sirius was drunk of his face blabbing to James about a mystery girl who he believed was the love of his life...

It hurt. Which is completely ridiculous, he's your best friend. He's allowed to have feelings for someone other than you. Perhaps it was wishful thinking that he'd be yours and yours alone. Yet right now, in the middle of the night, it was just you and him.

He began talking about another prank they had planned on the train. As much as it was interesting, you found yourself unable to focus on his words.

Instead, you'd become infatuated by how beautiful he looked in the moonlit light. How he would wave his hands around every now and then when getting to parts he was particularly emotional about. How his grey eyes seemingly sparkled in the light. Of course, you knew how utterly gorgeous he is but you'd never been so close to him. You could see his pretty lashes and the light blush that always sat on his cheeks. How his lips were the perfect blend between light pink and medium pink.

You hasn't realized he'd stopped talking until he tilted his head at you.

"You weren't listening to a word I said, were you?" He held a soft smile.

"...Not really, I'm sorry wha-"

He leaned in, his lips touched yours. You nearly exploded. Sirius Black was kissing you. Holy shit.

He pulled away, and you could barely think straight. His lips were soft and sweet. Your brain finally caught up to your heart.

"Why'd you do that?"

He suddenly looked concerned, worried.

"Did you not want me to?"

"That's beside the point, what about her?"

"Her?"

"The girl you were telling James about, the love of your life!" Your voice rose to a whisper-yell.

He leaned away, you'd grown used to his warmth.

"Well, I'd hope she'd be happy too seeing as I just kissed her eh?"

He turned looking back at you. You'd never seen him so quiet, nervous, vulnerable.

He was talking about you that day. He felt the same. Before your brain had time to overload you reached out for his hand.

"I'd say she is" You wore a wide smile. He turned, eyes wide.

"Really?"

"Why don't you find out," You said as you leaned in for another kiss.

His lips were just as soft and sweet as before however, the kiss was longer, you swore you could almost feel his emotions. He slowly pushed you down, and your head hit the pillows. He kissed you as he shifted his weight on top of you slightly.

You both broke away from the kiss. He leaned down to kiss your neck.

"If your gonna shag can you not do it in front of my eyes AND in my bed! I mean I'm glad you got over the whole not telling each other phase but are you serious!"

"That is my name, yes"

A pillow hit both of your faces. Ow.

"Would you all, just the fuck up. It's like 5am"

Thank you Remus Lupin. James let out a humpf before passing out again. Sirius turned back around to face you. Holding eye contact with each other, you both burst out in giggles both trying to shush the other.

He was yours, and you were his.

[springtimesdaughter]

Sorry it took so long. I forgot this was in my drafts.

Headcanon A:  realistic Headcanon

He used to plan out what a cabin for his mother would have looked like. Thinking about how it would be designed, what sort of decoration the place would have. He thought about the activities that he would set up for the day and how to best balance the skills one could learn from camp. He thought about the councilor meetings that he would attend and what issues he would bring up.

It was relaxing to him. Sometimes, it was the only way he could fall asleep. Especially on the nights where the presence of the titans and the monsters ate into the urge to fight back against the mistreatment.

B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious Headcanon

Sometimes, he entertains what-if scenarios on his own choices. What if he chooses to do this instead of this. It helps him plan and focus.

C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends Headcanon

Standing in the lobby of the DoA Recording Studios, he notices the moment that the coin age necessary for his passage appears on his person, when Charon has to allow him on the boat.

He stands in line for judgment, not spares no look at the through line. He will be judged properly for the actions he went through with. He listens to several of the other dead. One confident on his fait, another nervous.

He stands in front of the judges. Ready to here what fate he may receive. He despite not wishing to entertain the thought, finds himself waiting for what punishment he may receive in the fields.

The final verdict gives him quite the opposite.

D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

In another lifetime, Ethan wonders what it might have been like to side with Percy Jackson, what it might have been like to quest with the hero.

[tigre-edi-rawr]

no contact day 4

actually at 3 a.m. i'm still up, i felt sleepy but suddenly i received a text message from my ex.

i long pressed it, but i can't fully read it since it's long then i decided to not think about it and just get a great rest for the night.

mixed emotions. but most importantly, i was insanely laughing how stupid that those tiktoks tarot reading are accurate as fuck.

i remember scrolling over multiple tiktoks about how he still misses you, he will reach out to you after 15mins, he is keeping himself busy and trying not to reach out but he is drafting the message now because your memory is disturbing his peace. blah blah blah. and not even a whole hour, i received that text.

i opened the text message first thing in the morning. and left it on read. it was all my plan you know, then i deleted all messages and his phone number again to not even think of replying back.

i was hurt. but numb. he was giving his last goodbye and i can't even comprehend how easy it was to let me go instead of proving himself that he is the right man for me. even in that last text, i did not get the remorse on everything that he did. not even an apology or explanations that hopefully makes sense, or it's just simply my wish, something that i crave from him.

i was sad. deep inside, i know i still love him as much. if only he could man up, own up his mistakes and make everything work, i feel like i could still give him a chance. i was hurt but everything that happened intensified the love i have for him. how cruel, right?

pain is still there, especially when i remember him. it felt like my heart has something on top of it and i can't even breathe. probably because things around me keeps these memories running in my head. nowadays, i caught myself smiling when i remember something because it was a funny memory or it's something that i appreciate because i felt loved.

i realized, i can still love. what i'm feeling is valid because it's what i feel. i can think of him or even love him this much even with this silence and distance. until these memories fade and slowly i get him out of my routine.

i did not respond to that message because i am lost for words. pathetic me kinda got hurt because deep inside i wished he was trying to fix us.

THIS IS JUST MY BRAIN, I KNOW IT'S NOT TRUE.

[fancyfeathers]

I saw your author darling idea and had an idea : due to some changes in the story, author is a noble lady , and after her success with her books, she is strangely seeing more potential suitors than she should, given the idea of her writing "grim and unladylike" things ( plain old desire of popularity). I think of her as eliose, dreading her future debut season, hoping to make it out single. The only issue, other than the annoying suitors vying for her, is her once "friend", a mathematics professor, whose secret she knows very well and is now watching out for him as well. What makes it all the more scarier, is him becoming all the more present at these debutante balls, stealing the attention of the many ladies, though his eyes only remain trained on her, always somehow swooping in and asking for a dance

And Then There Were None (Yandere William James Moriarty /w Author Darling Masterlist)

The way she would find out in this story would be a bit different than the other, she would still deal with the fact that her books are being used as methods to kill people and she still would be recruited by Sherlock to help solve it, but it wouldn’t take long for her high society parents to disapprove of her investigation and shut it down. She would be resolved back to her old life without her writing to prevent future deaths. She would have to leave her old writing friends behind that she used to work with on her drafts and proofreading, instead having to settle with making relationship with those in the social circle she was born into. So now she finds herself becoming rather close friends with the Moriarty brothers who live just a few doors down, especially William who has a similar enjoyment for the grim and gorey she does. The two of often enjoy tea together maybe once or twice a week and she tells him of the days she used to write for hours and then rush over to one of her old author friends where they would proofread, critique, and perhaps some days even make fun of each other’s choices, but it was all fun of course. But every time she remembered those days, she grew more and more melancholy, wishing she could go back to those days where her stories was the only thing that mattered to her, but now she has to worry about her upcoming social season and her controlling and desperate mama’s attempts to make her presentable to the public.

I think in this setting she would find out that night at the charity masquerade ball with Albert and Bonde, she is attending the party with one of her old author friends who is one of those who is trying to get her to pick up her pen again. She gets marked as one of the victims and has to leave the party and joining those two on the second floor. She just watches the party for a while, but she notices the strange nature of the conversation of the two gentlemen so she moves closer to listen in to their conversation and is immediately taken aback by the things she hears from the eldest Moriarty brother, the reveal of one of the faces of Lord of Crime.

She is clearly taken aback by this revelation but she pieces everything together in my mind from when she was investigating the murders based on her books with Sherlock. Albert wouldn’t do that, he never had been interested in her novels, nor would Louis who is another suspect in this, which leaves William.

God it all makes sense now, it was William all along. The interest he had in her books, the encouragement he always provided towards her continuing her work, the collection of her books that he had in his drawing room.

Her face must have turned to panic after she heard that because her friend that she came to the party with rushes up to her on the second floor even if he wasn’t the victims, because he can she the horror in her face from the ballroom floor. He rushed up and to her, past the two gentleman she was ease dropping over which surely catches the attention of the eldest Moriarty brother. Her friend tries to calm her down but she is in complete panic. Her friend announces that they have to leave and escorts her back to the carriage they arrived in to take her home.

“N-no, this i-is supposed t-to be fiction… n-not reality…”

“What is? What is wrong? You are worrying me-“

“William… William Moriarty, he is the one who been mimicking my books… it was him all along… it all makes sense…”

“God above…”

Meanwhile when Albert goes back to meet with his brothers after the party and reveals what happened, she knows. William just smiles, seems like she has finally to move again rather than just sitting idle.

When the social season starts, the two authors come up with a plan, her mother would have her make her social debut and they could not avoid that, but perhaps he could act as a shield. At every party from her debut, she is always accompanied by her closest friend, the fellow author. No one would think it scandalous since they were already close friends before her debut, he acts as her knight in shining armor keeping away any suitors so she could stay single. Think of their relationship in the season like the ruse between Simon and Daphne in Bridgerton, the only difference being that it is not romantic.

But beyond keeping suitors away it is also when William shows up one of the parties. She clings to her friend’s side when he approaches the two of them and asks her for a dance but her friend steps in to tell him that her dance card is full for this evening and sweeps her away from the mathematics professor. Upon the dance floor they keep an eye on him as they talk in hushed tones…

“You are truly a godsend, my dearest friend.”

“Oh think nothing of it, you are giving me inspiration for my next novel after all.”

“Do you are using my misfortune and the Lord of Crime as your inspiration, you truly are crazy.”

“No crazier than you who wrote about a mass murder at a dinner party.”

“Touché.”

Then as the season progresses, their relationship only makes her more desirable to the suitors who are looking for a wife, and a wife who is beautiful but also wealthy on her own from her novels, then to add on the fact of her being accompanied by one of the other most brilliant authors in the city makes her all the more desirable, even with that mind of hers that can come up with thoughts many do not wish to have, but her books were found almost everywhere nowadays.

But to William, she was already desirable, and now that she knows what he has been doing she is playing defensive which her friend. Every party he attends, she is arm in arm with her friend, keeping him away. She always runs off with him before William can get close, he would need to separate the two authors from one another.

Before one of these parties as the writing duo walks in and gets handed their dance cards and her friend goes to write his name in her slots, one of them is already taken, written before she even got her card…

William Moriarty

He was one step ahead of them this time, he was up to something this time. The two authors stand off from the crowd when they come to this realization, the two of them trying to piece together the why and what would he want.

Then when the time comes he takes her by the hand and pulls her to the floor to dance with her and she does it to save face.

“What do you want?”

“What ever do you mean?”

“I know what you have done, I have known for months.”

“And yet you have not done anything, well besides cling to that friend of yours.”

“He is protecting me.”

“Protecting you from someone who would never dream of hurting you.”

“And how do I know that is the truth?”

“Well because I am to marry you, I have already asked your mother’s permission when you were out this morning with him, and since I am well off and we had a rather good relationship in the past, she had no reason to say no.”

“You-“

By the time she can even respond she hears the sound of someone falling, the whole ballroom turns to see her friend, who was trying to protect her, on the ground dead.

She is taken in my the shock of the situation…

This is why William wanted to separate them, because he wanted her friend dead, her only protection.

Now she was all alone.

“I would burn the world for you, my dear.”

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

Romantic Snippet Tag 💖💖💖

tagged by: jumping on @oh-no-another-idea 's open tag! (I remember being tagged for this game ages ago but I can't remember who or find the post for the life of me. if you tagged me here it is!)

tagging: Open Tag for whoever wants it! and soft tagging @winterandwords | @theimperiumchronicles | @italiangothicwriteblr | @space-writes | @ink-fireplace-coffee | @sleepyowlwrites | @words-after-midnight

I have thousands of words worth of angst for my babies Raven and Sapphire, but I'll be nice and give you some fluff I have instead from Draft 0 for Sleeping Beauty's Bodyguard:

“Did you always want to be a knight?” “For a while. I wanted to protect myself and my family from bullies, and knights seemed like people that could do that. I didn’t sign up to be your bodyguard though…” “Do you ever wish you hadn’t become my bodyguard?”  “Sometimes-” Sapphire’s face fell and he quickly added. “-but other times I wouldn’t change it for the world. You’re the most frustrating person I’ve ever met, but… also the most happy and excited to live. I haven’t known a lot of people that were excited to just live.” “Why do you think I hate my parents' overprotective tendencies? They’re scared of me dying, I’m scared of spending all my time surviving rather than living. I want to live my life.” “Why are you excited to live?”  “Oh, there’s so many things to be excited for. Clear nights like this where you can see the whole sky. The festivals, and dancing and seeing all the lights at them. The feeling of the breeze blowing through your hair. Sunshine. Flowers and flower crowns. That feeling when you think you could take on the world.”  Her eyes flicked to his hands and heat crept up her neck. “Someone braiding your hair for you with care.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and looked at the flames of the campfire dance across the logs, mesmerized. “Listening to stories about magic and the gods. Splashing in a creek and not caring about getting wet. The sound of crickets at night. Fireflies…”  She added, “I’ve never seen them, fireflies… but I’ve heard of them, seen pictures. They light up all on their own and only come out at night, and if you're gentle you can even catch one.” She turned to Raven. “Have you ever seen one? A firefly?” Raven smiled a little, leaning forward and watching the campfire. “We have them all the time back home, there’s lots of big fields just outside our village- one behind our house. That’s where fireflies like to be, especially at night. They only come out after the sun goes down, and they don’t start showing up until summer, when it’s warmer at night. When me and my siblings were small, we used to catch them and keep them in jars that my ma’ma had- she did make us release them after a few hours, but at least releasing them was the fun part. It’s like holding fire- the sun, moon, and stars themselves in your hands.” She said softly, “Maybe you could show me one day.” He couldn’t help his smile getting bigger as he looked at her and his heart fluttered. “I would like that.”

[antvnger]

Blood Brothers AU - Moon Superdome

Based off this post where Scott wrote Tony a letter and Tony wrote one back.

((For those wanting a bit of angst and some baby Stark boys, here you go. I highly recommend reading the original post first, especially the addition by my dear @stxrksarc off which this post is based))

Eight year old Tony Stark didn’t want to be a Stark anymore. The problem had to be because he was a Stark, had to be.

There were a lot of things that came with the name he was learning about at too young an age.

Things like socializing as a child prodigy wasn’t easy. Socializing as a child Stark was impossible. Either kids didn’t want to be his friend because of said socialization issue or would be his friend because their parents told them to be really friendly with the Stark boy as if the boy was a genie would grant wishes of those who let him out of his bottle.

Things like everything he said and did was under unfair scrutiny. From Grandpa Howard to teachers and even other kids in school, everyone watched what he did and had some kind of comment about it.

He was in the 2nd grade for crap’s sake, let the boy be a boy!

He wanted to run and hide every time Grandpa Howard came to visit or would be the one to pick him up from school (only because he took the boy straight to Stark Industries instead of home because exposure to the company would be good for him.)

(This was why Charlie Stark made sure to work in his office once he found out his dad was doing this. First chance he learned Tony was there, he would swoop in as fast as he could to rescue him from Grandpa Howard. Sometimes he could get there quickly. Most times he could not.)

Things like because he was a Stark, everything about him was exposed to people he didn’t even know. Every childhood milestone was publicized despite his mother’s attempts to keep him shielded from such.

But the Starks were always under the ever watchful, ever judgmental eye of the public, especially the paparazzi.

Things like how everything would be his responsibility someday. Because he’s a Stark. The firstborn Stark at that.

And all the fights between Grandpa Howard and Dad over Tony, and then even Mom and Dad about Grandpa Howard’s treatment towards Tony…well that poor boy figured that was somehow his fault too and just part of the unfair scrutiny that came with his name and his position.

He liked the name Tony. He wasn’t so sure about Stark. It was Mom and Dad’s name. It was Scott’s name. And he wanted to keep it because it was theirs too, and he loved them with everything in his body.

But it was his grandfather’s name, and that hurt in a way Tony didn’t understand.

Maybe, he tried to reason, it wasn’t the Stark name…or just the Stark name. It was the strangers who thought his name held such power yet ironically stripped him from the power of anonymity.

Maybe it’s the paparazzi and the news and the people who point at him and his family when they’re out in public.

So he decided the best option would be for him and his family to leave and find some place far far away so they can be Starks and not be Starks.

Where could such a place be? To the imagination of this little boy, the answer was obvious: colonize the moon.

This sweet boy, eager and hopeful, drafted actual schematics for a moon superdome that would house him and his family where they could be safe. Self-generating power, protective shields for the occasional meteorite, a self-sustaining aquaponics system, and temperature regulation for those scorching days and freezing nights.

The materials and transport would cost his entire inheritance, but once they made it over, at least property tax would be nonexistent. For an 8 year old to know that much already, that still blows Ant-Mun’s mind.

But the boy’s schematics were discovered by the Stark patriarch while he was still drawing them out, and poor Tony got a verbal lashing over wasting time on foolish dreams and worse - heaven forbid - wasting human capital.

So he hugged his schematics close to his chest and kept his ideas close to his vest. He was bound and determined to prove to himself that people outside of the house would not get to know everything about him. Not even his mother would get to know these secrets.

It would be really tough to convince his parents to go to the moon with him though for, of course, the boy never considered the possibility he would be grounded from the moon.

There was one he wanted to share the idea with though, one who was honestly the best option for going with him, one he refused to leave behind: his four-year-old shadow.

Tony quickly led his little brother to the backyard the first opportunity he could. “Scotty! How would you feel about us living on the moon?”

The little one’s mouth dropped in awe. “Duh moon, Tony? How come?”

Not wanting to scare his baby brother, Tony avoided the question. “Don’t you think it would be fun? We could build it ourselves and we could see stars all the time! You love seeing stars. And we could float because there’s no gravity and we could eat what we want and everything!”

Actually, Tony suspected they’d be living on fish and vegetables, which would be difficult to get Scott to eat, but he’d keep chocolate on hand to coax Scott to eat. That’s what their nanny did anyway.

Scott looked up at the sky, seriously considering his big brother’s idea. Tony would never lead him astray after all. And living on the moon really did sound so cool. “Can we eat Oreos there?”

“Absolutely! Oreos and peanut butter and you can have your own room if you want.”

“I don’t know if I want that part,” little Scott shook his head, which made Tony look back at his schematics and move the orange sticky note with Scott’s name on it and set it right beside the sticky note with his own name on it. Tony might prefer it that way anyway.

“How we gonna build it, Tony?”

“Well ummm…” Tony looked at his blueprints before he looked around the backyard before settling on the big oak tree. “We can build a model of it here! In the backyard! Just to make sure my plans will work before we actually launch into space.”

Tony beamed excitedly as Scott cheered at the idea before they ran to the garage.

An hour later, Maria looked out the window to the backyard, eyebrows raised when she saw her babies running around the oak tree like mad, odd-end objects scattered all around the grounds.

On the tree’s trunk was a construction-paper sign that Maria could barely make out the words on it from so far away: “Moon SuperDome Construkson”

[astrolaurical]

About the twin flame question- how do you deal with the yearning and constant pull especially at nights? Like someday I am fine but at night especially it gets out of control...the constant aching and crying I am really fed up. Sometimes I think all I wanted was a simple love story but here I am with all this ...Even the days are like emotional hell..I am a wrecking ball of crying.

How do you deal with it....if you could put some insight I'll be glad.

Thanku :)

I’ve started and stopped on this draft so many times as I don’t know how to answer it because i honesty never really cried over my twin.

Then yesterday I was out with my friend and was having a good time and this random wave of sadness that didn’t feel like my own emotions came over me and I just burst into tears. My friend was like wtf??! Even I didn’t know what was going on. This has only ever happened once before where it felt like someone else’s emotions were coming out of me if that makes sense? So it made me wonder: am I experiencing my twins extreme sadness right now? Am I feeling the energy of the collective? Am I just purging unneeded energy as my body continues to heal and exits survival mode, albeit just at an extremely inconvenient time to cry? I still don’t have an answer. I instantly thought of this ask though after I calmed down.

I just want to let you know that you aren’t alone and others are experiencing weird and uncomfortable and uncontrollable emotions on this journey, too. I wish I had the answers but all I can say is that crying is the releasing of heavy energy in the body, like a cup that has become too full and spilt over. It’s a necessary and healthy way for your body to realign itself. Ride through it and notice what you were thinking about before the crying started that might have triggered it. That will lead you to what you need to work on and heal.

As for the yearning and aching part, it goes away as soon as you start living your life for YOU instead of your twin. Most people get caught up in the chase and never reunite because they are always thinking/stalking/chasing their twin and never doing the inner healing work. You are mirrors-work on yourself and so does your twin; yearn for your twin and so does your twin- yearning ≠ never reuniting. Think of yourselves as rocks split into a broken heart: You can’t have incomplete and jagged halves come together (not working on yourselves), you have to have two completely healed halves come together to link perfect (rocks smoothed out). Basically, stop thinking about your twin and go do fun stuff with friends and family, focus on your career, date around. It’s literally the saying “your true love comes when you least expect it”.

[squadrah]

i’m so happy to see you posting again! could we have some sfw and/or n sfw hcs for fomaggio please? 💕

Thank you, Anon, I'm happy that despite the hiatus, everyone is being kind!

It's been a while since I handled this sweet cheese, and I can't remember every headcanon posted before, so I scoured my drafts and found a post there that was mostly about him! I now present it to you instead of making it its own post!

From My Curious Cat

Formaggio shoplifts not just for himself and his team to cut down on living expenses, but also for his family. They haven't seen him since he had made up his mind to join the mafia (he deliberately cut ties to make sure his mother and siblings would come to no harm), but ever so often he will shoplift a bunch of everyday necessities and sneak it into his former home with a note that just says "Surprise!" in his handwriting.

Touched upon this previously, if not on this blog then on my main blog, but I absolutely live for the idea that Formaggio introduced a bunch of party games to La Squadra's daily life, and by that I mean question and answer games such as "How would you kill that guy?" and "Small wishes". For the latter, choosing a theme is optional, and it's played on days when he can tell morale is low. Basically he makes his friends think of small things they could wish for (a drink, a certain food, a back rub, etc.) and the game is for the team to grant everyone's wishes before they retire to bed that night. As they say, it's the little things.

BONUS:

I also feel like it's rare that everyone manages to sleep through the night, so they all have an understanding that whoever cannot sleep can go down to the common areas and band together with fellow sufferers. Sometimes they sit on the couches and chat (especially if Formaggio's there), sometimes they lounge on the courtyard patio, and sometimes the others will come down in the morning and find their teammates fast asleep wherever they had chosen to hang out.