#anyhow the um. them curled into each other

[trollbreak]

Dying of sensory issues (chilly but the air is too still and any time I turn on a fan it makes something move and I hate the sound and also it makes me either too hot or too cold depending on the setting) BUT!! Um. Thinking about homoerotic consumption soso much so it’s fine

[pftones3482]

Commission for @wombatking!! They asked for some Chloenette fic, and I was very happy to oblige (even went over my word count before I forced myself to stop lol). Find my commission information here

Two notes for this fic: The main five heroes (Marinette, Adrien, Chloe, Alya, and Nino) all know each other's identities, and Adrien's bodyguard is named Gilbert bc I say so.

Under a cut for length!

~~

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

The black and red spotted handbag spun off into the atmosphere, dazzling the city with bright lights and reversing the damage of the most recent akuma (a poor retail worker who’d had enough and had gone on a rampage through town, turning people into merchandise). Not that you could even see the repairs, given how the rain was still basically just a sheet of water.

Ladybug turned to Chat Noir, offering him a smile through the storm. “Pound it,” they chorused, bumping fists.

“As much as I love our hangouts, m’lady,” Chat said, leaning on his staff with a grin, “if we stay out much longer, we might drown.”

Ladybug snorted and took a step towards the edge of the roof, opening her mouth to respond.

She felt it – the moment her foot hit the loose roof tile. The way the slickness of the rain dragged it, and her, towards to the edge. She fumbled for her yo-yo, eyes wide, but her hand slipped away as her back hit the roof and her teeth clacked in her mouth.

Chat’s pole flung itself in front of her and she swung for it, felt the cold metal slide away from her fingers in the torrential storm, and the world dropped from under her.

Falling in movies took forever. In real life, it was seconds. Without her super suit, she knew she would’ve been much worse off. As it was, her ankle flared in pain as she hit the alleyway pavement and she gasped, instantly curling over herself and clinging to the obviously broken appendage.

Chat Noir landed next to her in a panic, his back shielding her from the street. “Shit, shit, are you okay?”

“Absolutely not,” Ladybug gasped.

Chat shifted, glancing behind them. “Claws in.”

“Spots off.”

Adrien set a hand on Marinette’s back and pulled out his phone as Tikki and Plagg dove into Marinette’s purse for food. “I’ll call Gilbert, get him to pull the car around. I’m sure he’s looking for me anyhow,” he snorted. “We’ll take you to the hospital and call your parents there.”

Marinette thumped her head back on the brick behind her. “Ugh. Even in my fucking costume, I’m still somehow a klutz.”

Adrien snickered, easing her to her good foot and letting her lean heavily against him while he put his phone to his ear. “I’m saying nothing, Chloe is gonna give you enough of an earful for both of us.”

“Aw, fuck.”

~~

“You fell off a roof?!” her girlfriend whisper shrieked as she stormed into the hospital room.

Marinette was somehow not shocked that Chloe had gotten to the ER faster than her parents – that girl could be scary when it came to traffic.

Adrien, lounging in the corner with Plagg asleep on his shoulder, snorted. “The official story is she fell off the curb. But yes, of course she had to do it after she fixed the city. I’ll give you two a second.”

He took Plagg and left, leaving Chloe to bolt to Marinette’s side and brush her bangs off her forehead, nose wrinkling. “Babe, you’re soaking wet,” she whined. “Didn’t these dumb nurses try to dry you off at all?”

Marinette rolled her eyes and grabbed at Chloe’s hand, kissing her knuckles softly. “I’m fine,” she promised. “Really. Just a little sore, but once I get through surgery and have some Tylenol I’ll be fine.”

“You fell off a roof,” Chloe hissed again, gesturing to Marinette’s very black and blue foot. “You are NOT fine.”

“I was Ladybug at the time.”

“And you STILL BROKE IT.”

“Touché.”

Chloe rolled her eyes and looked at Tikki in exasperation. “Back me up here.”

Tikki giggled and shook her head. “Oh no, I know better than that. I’m gonna go find Plagg and Adrien.”

She bolted at Marinette’s nod, and Chloe sighed, pushing her forehead against Marinette’s. “Don’t scare me like that,” she whispered.

Marinette bit down a protest and lifted her chin to press a kiss to Chloe’s forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you will be. Especially when you’re on those horrid, horrid, crutches.”

“I swing around on a yo-yo every day, how hard can crutches be?”

~~

Very hard, as it turned out.

They hurt her back and her palms and her fingers and her armpits, they were clunky, and one wrong move had them toppling over.

Her father drove her to school and helped her ease up the stairs and into the building before heading back home. It was only then that Marinette realized just how many stairs there were in her school.

“All right, Dupain-Cheng, let’s go.” Chloe’s voice was all the warning Marinette got before she was being swooped up bridal style with a yelp, clinging to her girlfriend’s neck as Adrien, directly behind her, caught her crutches with a sly grin.

“Y-You-! I’m…I can-!”

“Absolutely not,” Chloe protested, “no way. You’re being carried and you’ll like it.”

Marinette squeaked and pressed her face into Chloe’s shoulder, face burning by the time they got to Miss Bustier’s room and she found that Adrien had switched seats with Chloe, and Nino was now sitting next to Alya. “You guys didn’t have to switch everything around for me!” she complained as Chloe settled her into Nino’s former seat, complete with chair cushion and stool to prop her foot on.

“Girl, she would kill us if we didn’t,” Alya said with a roll of her eyes. “And she didn’t even have to threaten us, we wanted to help.”

“Well thanks, but not EVERYONE had to switch their seats!”

“If you think for a second I’d let Adrikins help you and not me, you’re insane,” Chloe scoffed. “These losers have no idea what they’re doing, and I’m not going to let them get you in even worse shape.”

Adrien just looked confused. “Um. I’m sorry?”

“Apology accepted.”

Chloe planted herself in Adrien’s old seat, her smile bright and mischievous, warm in a way that made Marinette flush and stammer the way she used to when she first realized she was crushing on the girl. “You’re stuck with me at least until you’re healed, Dupain-Cheng. Better get used to it.”

Her kiss was quick and light, and Marinette barely had time to register it before Chloe raising her hand to shout out, “Here!” to Miss Bustier’s roll call.

She did, however, take the opportunity to reach her own hand out and lace their fingers together under the table. If she was going to sit next to her girlfriend and be distracted and in pain for the next two months, she should at least get to hold her hand.

[reidyoulikeabook]

M is for Maybe One Day

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Discussion of marriage and children.

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Spencer and reader have a conversation about their future.

A/N: This is the angst free version of part M! If you’re looking for the version that contains angst, that’s here. This is the main scene from the story and is designed so that people who don’t feel comfortable with the potentially upsetting content from the angst-version are still able to enjoy this version. Let me know what you think! :)

Part of The A-Z of Spencer Reid but works as a stand-alone.

You’re awake before Spencer is. You don’t want to risk waking him up by disentangling yourself, so you stay right where you are, unsure of what time it is. You’re infinitely happier curled up in his arms than you would be by being bestowed with that knowledge.

It can only be early, anyhow. There’s only a trickle of light pooling under the curtains. The big living room light got left on last night, you knew Spencer needed it to keep the darkness at bay. It pokes into the room through the gap in the not-quite-closed door, allowing you to get a relatively good look at him.

His hair is a wreck. Even in sleep, you can see the bags firmly indented under his eyes. His mouth is open. No snores come out, only tiny breaths escape the lips formed into an ‘o’ shape.

He looks peaceful.

Unencumbered by any of the worries from yesterday. You close your eyes, deciding that getting a few more hours sleep can’t hurt.

It’s then that he moves. He wiggles his fingers, more than likely trying to wake up the arm that’s gone dead with you lying on it. You open your eyes, and his face floods with guilt. The exact face he makes when you find him hobbling around the apartment without his crutches.

“Sorry,” He squeaks, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I was awake already,” You reassure him, adjusting your position so that he can move his arm, “Did you sleep well?”

He visibly relaxes, his voice raspy with sleep, “I slept okay. Better because you were here.”

You hum. Opening your arms, you nod for him to move. He does, coming to settle himself with his head resting on your chest. There’s a peaceful lull. The residents of Virginia aren’t awake yet, so you’re enveloped in the kind of quiet that only comes with the early hours of the morning. No cars racing past or mothers upstairs on a mission to suck every piece of dust out of their apartment, and potentially yours too.

You feel the low rumble of his throat before you hear it, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You’re not quite sure how long you lie like that. In this liminal space between asleep and wakefulness, night and morning. Your brain starts to wander, trying to settle on anything to use as a rope to escape the reality of last night that bites at your ankles.

For some reason, it settles on Derek. The image of him at his desk.

Planning to raise the next generation of Einsteins?

“I was thinking,” You murmur, playing with a piece of his hair, “I was talking to Derek last week. He was talking about Garcia, and how they’ve spoken about having kids. I mean, I know they’ve been together a lot longer but, it got me thinking.”

He pulls back. For a moment, you’re afraid you’ve gone too far. Then he swallows, his lips curling upwards into a small smile.

“Would you want to-” He cuts himself off, clearing his throat, “Would that be something you could see yourself wanting someday? To marry me?”

“I’d love to marry you,” You tell him, lifting your fingers to his face to trace over the familiar lines of his cheekbones, the points of his face a dot-to-dot you could connect in your sleep.

He smiles, “Would you be Mrs Reid?”

“Of course I’d be Mrs Reid. I’d hate to disappoint the aquarium.”

“Well in that case-” He pretends to move, as if to shift towards the bedside table.

“You don’t have a ring in there.”

“Not yet.”

“It’d be a bad place to keep it.”

“Or it might work as a double bluff.”

“I know your bluffs. Double or triple or quadruple.”

He scrunches his nose, “I don’t think I’ve ever quadruple bluffed.”

“You might one day.”

“I suppose if you’re going to be Mrs Reid you’ll get the chance to find out.”

"I’d like to be Mrs Reid,” You tell him, sincere once more, “I can’t imagine myself ever being with anybody else.”

“I can’t imagine what my life would look like without you in it now,” He says, his voice painfully earnest, cracking a bit at the end.

“Neither can I.”

There’s a shift in atmosphere. Small but significant, one that has you staring at him. Trying to piece together how this ended up being your life. How you went from co-workers at desks next to one another exchanging pleasantries, a man you called Dr Reid for the first week of knowing him until he cracked and insisted you called him Spencer. How you transformed from that to this, caterpillars entering a caramel chrysillis and making it out the other side, soaring through near death experiences and aquarium trips and job offers at Caltech.

There’s been a lot, really.

He interrupts your thoughts, so softly it barely jolts you, “I-I’ve known it for a while now. I’m not sure when I realised but I think that, that we just make it work.”

“We do,” You agree, “That’s what I said to Derek. I think we just understand each other.”

“I never really felt like anybody ever understood me,” He mumbles, his voice dropping as it becomes more sincere, shifting his face more into the pillow, “My whole life I um, I sort of felt out of place. I didn’t always understand peoples jokes or know how to talk to them. I didn’t think I’d ever find somewhere I felt like I belonged.”

His voice wavers. You kiss the top of his forehead, not interrupting, just reassuring.

He continues, “Joining the BAU changed things. Meeting Morgan and Garcia especially. They made me feel like, for the first time in my life, I had friends. Who weren’t annoyed by everything that I said.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” You tell him, your hand coming to rest at the nape of his neck to play with the stray hairs there, “You never do and I understand why. But you’re more than smart. I love your brain, and your memory, and I admire all of that. But you’re also thoughtful,” You punctuate each assertion with a kiss to his knuckles, “And kind. And funny. And you make me feel so loved.”

He sniffles a bit, lifting his head. You can see the tears sparkling in his eyes, and you bring your interlocked hand to his chin, your thumb resting there. He swallows, and you pause for a moment before speaking again.

“And if I was ever going to have a family, there’s nobody I’d rather do it with than you.”

“Really?” He’s winded by the assertion, his breath catching in his throat, “You’d want a family with me?”

“Of course I do. love you. You’d make the most amazing dad in the world Spence.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I know so. Look at how you are with Henry and Jack. You’re the best Uncle ever,” You murmur, “Raising kids with you is the best decision I could make.”

He‘s quiet. Soaking it in. He holds you tighter against his body, essentially putting you back into your place against his neck. The comforting scent of him, and the feeling of his big hands rubbing steady circles on your back, is grounding in the extreme.

Though you’re soothed, you can tell when he’s thinking. His jaw tightens, just a little bit. As if he’s chewing the words. Trying to decide whether to swallow them or let them slip out.

“I think I’d um, I’d retire.”

Slip out.

“You’d what?” You try to keep the surprise out of your voice but it filters through.

“I’d probably um, I’d probably look into teaching. I don’t think I could ever leave our children. Not,” He sniffles, and you know without looking that there’s a tear making its way down his cheek, “Not when there’s a chance I might not come home. I couldn’t do that to them.”

“Okay,” You say, “I’d support you whatever you wanted to do. I was only surprised because I know how much you love the job.”

“You love yours too. I’d never expect you to give it up so we could have children. Not unless you wanted to.”

Of course that’s part of it.

“I know,” You reply, “I know. I guess I wasn’t thinking about the practicality of it. But I know what you mean.”

He swallows, “It’s more than that. I just um. I’d want to be around. All the time.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you can tell there’s more he’s not saying. You adorn his Adam’s apple with a soft kiss, and he lets out a puffy exhale.

“I um, I never thought that this is something I’d get to want. Kids and a wife and a family. Now that it is, now that I get the chance,” He trails off, swallowing, “Now that I have that chance I would never do anything to risk losing it. Or missing a single moment of it. I want to give them a happy childhood. I want to teach them to play chess and watch cartoons on a Sunday and just give them...give them a lifetime of good memories. Not a lifetime of them staring at the door wondering if I’m going to make it home.”

He wants to give them what he never had.

Shifting, you adjust, looking him in the eyes. A tear is making its way down his cheekbone, one you thumb away. Cradling his face in your hands, you can’t help but smile. They aren’t sad tears like you’d expected, his eyes gleam with pure adoration. He’s not sad about the past. He’s happy about the future.

The realisation brings a tear to your eyes, and you can barely get the words out past the lump in your throat, “Maybe one day we’ll be waking up on Saturdays to take our kids to the park.”

The love in his eyes is mirrored and magnified in your own. You can’t be certain whether it’s that or your words that coax another tear out of his eye, but it’s barely passed the bridge of his nose before he’s giving you the biggest wateriest smile, “I’m looking forward to that day.”

So am I.

-

Next part: N is for New Place (i promise it’s onwards and upwards from here!!)

[jangofctts]

Don’t Push Your Luck (Boba Fett x Reader)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 4.9k wooF

Warnings: smut, language, handjobs, oral (male receiving), fingering, heavy petting, there is SOFT. I REPEAT SOFT FLUFF. but only SOME 

Chapter (1), (2)

a/n: hey y’all...welcome...finally this bITCH IS OUT. thanks to @djxrxn​ WHOMST HAVE BEEN THE MAIN MOTIVATOR BEHIND THIS. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH 💖🥵🤠 

(also lmk if you wanna be tagged or just wanna YELL at me)

It’s impossible not to count down the days, the hours, the seconds leading up to your untimely end. A sleep cycle and half to be exact. A perfect amount of time to finish counting each loose wire and rusty screw holding together this heap of junk—a miracle really, that it’s able to jump to hyperspace, let alone fly.       

You’re no expert on the inner workings of a spacecraft, but your familiarity with Imperial grade cruisers gift you the impeccable skill of deducing that the hiss of air every couple minutes out of the hydraulic piping is not ideal. Nor is the solar light overhead that flickers and hums, skirting the precarious line of exploding in your face or simply plunging the cargo hold into murky darkness. 

At this point you’d take either.  

You sigh, resting the back of your head against the wall as the barbed tendrils of an oncoming headache settles behind your eyes.    

  Between that, the stupid light, and your boredom; it’s enough to make anyone stir crazy. Stars—even the arduous task of talking to Boba Fett is morphing into something akin to craving. Even if his idea of a conversation runs parallel to the art of smug, male pride and snide words meant to pick and prod—it’s better than whatever this is. 

Scoffing, you curl your knees up to your chest and rest your chin over your knee. This is pathetic. 

You should despise him—feel like kicking his teeth in—or helmet—whatever. He aided in the killing of you friend—probably took care of all the other poor souls who even dared to breathe your way too. Boba Fett is a despicable, no good bounty hunter who finds far too much fun in the misfortune of others.  

And yet… 

The task of attaching your hate to the man is proving to be more difficult than you would’ve guessed. You don’t regret what you’ve done with him—far from it in fact—but your tolerance, bordering enjoying his company, is concerning. To say in the least.   

Nothing good will come out of the conflicted ball of knots that settle in your chest, ensnaring your heartstrings into that endless monstrosity. 

Though none of it stops the way your chest constricts, heart skipping a few vital beats at the familiar sound of his spurs resonate through the ship. They chink against the metal pegs of the ladder, boots settling on the ground with a heavy thump. A moment later Boba steps into your line of sight, tattered cloak and chipped armor in all its battered glory. 

He isn’t an immanent threat, but your eyes still track each movement. The rational part of you knows he won’t lash out, but you’re still his quarry and even a wolf with a severed head has the power to bite. No part of you wants to brave the sharp points of his teeth.  

Not even a fraction of his attention is thrown your way as he does his routine inspections of your fellow captured quarries, frozen in their carbonite prisons. You just hope none of them spontaneously reanimate—you’re not too keen on another shipmate. Your little corner is crowded as is and forget sharing your blanket. It’s tattered and smells like dust and mothballs and you have a sneaking suspicion it’s just one of Boba’s old cloaks he outgrew—but you’re thankful for it anyhow. 

You flinch as he punches in a code, the loud grate of metal on metal piercing your ears as the carbonite slabs swing back into their storage space. With an incline of his head, his weighted gaze settles on your person.

“Still nervous?”

You sniff and shake your head. “You just…startled me is all.” 

Boba snorts in disbelief and pads closer. He reaches the toes of your boots and squats, one gloved forearm resting over his knee as the other reaches out to capture a lock of your hair. He twirls it between his fingers and gently tugs, quiet as he studies you behind the visor. The action is familiar—doesn’t scare you as much as it once did, but his closeness still overwhelms. 

“I see you’ve found some courage, gentle Rabbit,” he surmises, untangling his fingers from your hair to tap beneath your chin. “While we’re at it…any last favors I can provide?” 

It’s whiplash—so stupefying it renders your tongue speechless, a heated blush rushing up your cheeks and to the tip of your ears. He snickers and shakes his head, rocking back onto his heels to stand as you sputter for words. 

It’s a joke—a garbage one at your expense. Always at the butt-end of things with no room to snap back. Yet, as he turns on his heel to return to the cockpit—it’s the perfect opportunity. Not the sort of favor he’d be expecting, but a favor nonetheless. 

“Can I—“ He pauses and casts a glance over his shoulder as you muster enough bravery to follow through. “Do you think I could—could sit in the cockpit? Just for a little while…” 

It’s a long-shot—like launching a flimsy javelin at a target no larger than a thumbtack three thousand clicks away. Not happening—more likely to beat a rancor in a fucking wrestling match then sway the bounty hunter’s opinion. Regardless, the question must stun him—the terse silence drags on for an agonizing amount of time, amping up your anxiety tenfold. 

“I’m sorry—I just—I wanted to see the stars one last time,” you mumble, curling into yourself with a wince. “It’s stupid—“     

“It’s hyperspace—not much to look at.” He curtly interrupts. “An asteroid if you’re lucky.” 

Your spirits plummet further—scraping against the dirt like a crashed speeder geared to the highest velocity and headed straight for a brick wall. Maker this was dumb—

“The second you try anything funny—“

You perk up, your spine straightening as he turns swiftly on his heel and marches back. He leans down at the waist, firmly ensnaring your chin between his forefinger and thumb, straining the muscles in your neck. “—you’ll end up in there.” 

He jerks his head over his shoulder at the carbonfreezer. Yeah. No thank you. Absolutely zero interest in becoming a human popsicle. 

“You won’t even notice I’m there,” you breathe, holding your stare steady. “Promise.” 

Boba hums in thought, releases your chin and pats your cheek. He straightens and taps at his vambraces and with a hiss of air the stasis cuffs around your wrists clatter to the floor. You stand and sigh, rubbing at the angry raised lines, just shy from a dark bruise.   

The bounty hunter ushers you towards the ladder, his hand anchored to your shoulder. You stop yourself from scoffing. The action is useless—you’ve got no clever scheme up your sleeve or malicious motive but you can never be too cautious you suppose—not with this line of work.  

You try not to snoop once you clamber up into the second level—but Maker—it’s interesting. There’s a small bunk on the other end of the short corridor, messy blankets thrown on top and a deconstructed blaster that’s seen better days. Gray and off-white undershirts hang off the metal rigging on the bunk and the sight of his laundry is undoubtedly jarring. It’s silly not to think he doesn’t do laundry but—imagining the most feared bounty hunter in the Galaxy washing his tidy whities is hilarious.

“Come on,” Boba urges, nudging your shoulder with his own.

Your tiny smile never falters as he leads you into the domed cockpit, the neon blue of hyperspace reflecting across his chipped armor with miniature streaks of light. He gestures at the co-pilot’s seat tucked beside the com board, a litany of buttons blinking and flashing as you gingerly sit. 

The hinges squeak as the chair spins, your eye catching the mess of beaded and jeweled necklaces that hang on a tiny hook above the board. You recognize a few—Kashyykian ceremonial beads, the glittering coil of pure, refined diamonds from Pantora and the braided strands of bantha leather common on Tatooine. Your fingers drift up and thumb at the carved wooden Wroshyr beads. 

Trophies—

“Don’t touch those.”

You jump and yank your hand back. “So...all I can do is...sit?” 

“Isn’t that what you asked for?” 

You have to agree—there isn’t much to look at. Hyperspace, as fascinating as it is, looses its charm once the vertigo sets in. To be honest—you weren’t expecting to get this far. 

Oh well. 

A change in scenery is always nice. Different loose wires and screws to count…

And the seat spins. Score. 

Boba however, does not share in your bemused sentiments. Your mopey sighing and the constant squeak of loose bearings on your spinny chair is not pleasant to the ear, apparently.   

“If you’re that bored, Rabbit,” he sighs, casting a sharp glance over his shoulder. “You could always put those hands to work.” 

You pause and swipe a finger through the dust between the toggles on the comm board and absentmindedly respond. “I don’t think I’d be much help. I’m not very technically inclined and oh—“

Your cheeks flush when he tilts his head. “You, uh...didn’t mean that sort of work, did you?” 

Boba snorts and crosses his ankle over his knee and rests his helmet on the headrest. The stretched out figure of his body is alluring—fascinating to studying each nick and scratch on his armor without the repercussions of him staring back. His vambraces clink against his cuirass as he laces his fingers together, resting his hands just above his codpiece.      

“Do you need something, Rabbit?” 

You swallow, your eyes flicking back up to a more respectable place for them to linger. “Um..n-no. I’m fine. Just…”

He rolls his head to the side, the shadows from hyperspace carving out the sharp lines of his helmet into an even deeper dramatic cut. You squirm and focus your eyes on the frayed laces of your boots.  

“It’s alright. You can tell me, sweet girl.” His goads, tempting you out onto that slippery slope of desire. 

He uncross his legs and uses the tip of his boot to languidly spin himself around, his knees spread wide in a display of mock easiness. Boba’s thumbs drum against his ammo belt, the quiet, rhythmic tap…tap…tap…the only sound filling the charged silence. It’s the Academy all over again; sat down and scrutinized until you crack—spill every secret until they’re satisfied— and Boba Fett is no different…   

You scramble for words, wrangling your thoughts into something somewhat comprehensive.  “I’m—I—well—“

He cocks his head, light bouncing off the silvery pockmark on his helmet. Boba’s hand idly travels lower, brushes off imaginary dust on his thigh and settles his fingers over the clasps to this codpiece. His thumb flicks it open then closed, all too keen on where your eyes are glued to.    

“You want your hands on my cock again? Is that it?” Boba purrs in amusement. You tongue passes over your lip as you wrench your eyes off of him yet again. 

“There’s no need to be play coy, girl,” Boba snickers, “Tell me.”   

The words jump out of your mouth—no forethought and apparently not an ounce of self control. “Yes—I want...to p-put my hands on you.”  

“On me or my cock?” 

You mouth goes dry as you mumble out a feeble agreement. “Your…cock.”

Boba huffs in self satisfaction. “Come here then.”   

On already shaky legs you stumble out of your seat and plant yourself in front of him. You have no visual confirmation but the hair-raising sensations as his eyes rake down your body sends shivers up your spine. 

Your mouth parts, but before you’re even able to ask what he wants—he beats you to it. 

“Your choice, Rabbit.” 

Not helpful, you think.  

Regardless of the lack of direction, you chew on the inside of your cheek and slowly lower yourself onto your knees, sliding easily between his parted legs. The only indication you know he’s aware you’re there is a quick shift of his hips, settling further into the leather cushion.    

His leg jumps involuntarily as your fingers skim up his knee. If you weren’t interested in receiving a lovely black eye, you’d have the nerve to accuse him of being ticklish. 

Biting the corner of your lip to stave off your coy smile, your hand continues its path up along his inner thigh. There’s a short huff of air that filters through the vocoder as your fingertips reach the codpiece. They brush over the circular dent left by a blaster, curiosity piqued at the strange location. 

You want to ask—but—the thought is fleeting, far more interested in finding the tiny clasps on the side that easily pop open, the offending piece of armor going lax in your grip. You toss it to the side with little hesitation, greeted by the firm outline of his cock filling out the front of his trousers. 

Boba Fett is not a patient man and your lecherous gawking, enough to notice, irks him. With a grunt he snakes his fingers around your hand and presses it against his cock. He rolls his hips, guiding your hand into applying a firmer touch until you’re palming him without the extra help. You give the hardening flesh a rougher squeeze, a bolt of liquid heat settling in the pit of your stomach as a stifled moan reaches your ears. 

By the time your hand sweeps up to ease off the heavy ammo belt around his waist, the bulge in his pants is considerable—a fucking pain to maneuver around as you tug down his trousers into a dramatic ‘v’. Boba’s hand, hanging off the arm rest, jerks the moment your fingertips brush along the dark curls, trailing up and taking a hold of his cock with a careful grip.  

He’s heavy in your hand, thicker than the circumference of your forefinger and thumb pressed together, and harder than kriffing durasteel. You can feel his watchful gaze carve a burning path over the contours of your face, drifting to where you hold him. 

He grumbles an inaudible complaint under his breath, curling his fists by his sides. Despite his obvious irritation with your feathery touches, he lets you continue without so much as a grumpy sigh or snippy redirection. You preen at the small victory, delighted you’re able to explore before the short rope of his patience runs thin and snaps. 

A sharp hiss of hair passes through the vocoder as you lightly tug on his cock, mesmerized by the firmness and the searing heat beneath your palm. From the base up you pull, fixed upon the dark flesh, flushed and pulsing as wetness pools at the tip as you pull down the foreskin, exposing the entirety of the wide head.

With your thumb you spread the bead of liquid around, intent on continuing your little exploratory endeavor until Boba shifts and grumbles out an order to stop. 

“Not like that,” he huffs, laying his fingers over yours that hold his cock. “Harder.” 

A fiery blush licks at your cheeks as he squeezes both sets of fingers into a firm fist, leading your hand into the pace he desires. 

It’s rough, much firmer than you’d think would be pleasurable—but you oblige. The wetness that dribbles from the flushed tip lessens the friction but with quick lick over your palm, he glides easily in your hand. Boba’s head rolls back against the headrest, exposing a sliver of brown skin beneath the lip of his helmet. 

It’s not long before your wrist aches—just shy of a couple moments. Luckily enough for you and your poor hand musculature, it doesn’t take more than a handful of minutes—rough and with no real discernible technique other than just fucking into your fist. Boba’s knee jerks as he lifts his head and arches his hips, chest heaving with shallow inhales.    

“Take it in your—in your mouth,” he orders in a rough rasp. His chest heaves as his hand finds purchase in your hair, jerking your head closer to his cock. It stings—Maker, why does he pull so hard? 

With a huff, you listen and part your lips. The tip of his cock slips into your heated mouth, twitching as your tongue rolls against the small slit leaking a near continuous stream of precum. With a couple short tugs and a gentle suck around the head, his fist clenches tight and drags you further down his shaft.

You gag around him, a low grunt rattling through his diaphragm as he cums. It’s warm, thick and fills your mouth, but the heavy weight on the back of your head leaves you no other choice than to swallow. Boba curses, cock still twitching when he lets you up and pulls out of your mouth. You gasp for precious air as you wipe off your lips with your sleeve, sparring a look up at the bounty hunter.   

The reclined figure of his body molds into the chair, a strip of dark skin peeking out from beneath the cowl has his head rests back against the seat. His fingers twitch when you shift, squirming as the twisting heat in your lower stomach festers and grows. 

You watch his throat bob as he speaks, “If you want something...take it.” 

The hard enamel of your teeth cut into your bottom lip as you carefully rock forward, dragging yourself off the ground. It takes a moment to shuck off your pants and perch yourself over his knees after shimming his trousers further down his legs. Boba only bothers to look up with lazy interest once your cunt, soaked and smeared over your inner thighs presses against his upper legs, wetting the muscled limbs. 

You steel your nerves against the sharp analytical gaze through the carved lines of his vizor and give your hips a tentative roll along the length of his softening cock. For all you know he could be asleep—yet you have a sneaking suspicion as to what his eyes are glued to. You’re no idiot.  

Boba’s gloved fingertips skim up your thigh, tempted to go higher but instead they drop back onto the armrests. You chew the inside of your lip, shooing away the urge to frown. Whatever—dwelling upon the quick movement is best left in the dark.

He sucks in a sharp breath of air as you rock your hips for a second time, your slick folds gliding smoothly along his member. It’s a light pressure, no more than a gentle caress so as not to overwhelm—but nonetheless still pleasurable, sating that untamable fire that burns bright in your belly. 

Your eyes drift back to those white gloves, his fists balled and stationary on the armrest. You want them on you. You want to feel his callouses scrape over your skin—one last craving you need to put an end to. 

It’s a risk—a big one. Yet, throwing your worries out the window is easier than your indecisiveness.

Both your hands slowly crawl over the white gloves, cautious in pulling them off as if he were some rabid Nexu ready to bite. He is, in a way and your sneaky little ploy certainly does not go unnoticed. 

Boba jerks his hands up the arm rests. “What makes you think you’re allowed to touch me?”

His tone is scathing—knocks you so far off that small pedestal of bravery you’ve mustered and leaves you wilting. You should’ve known, stopped while you were ahead. Though knowing in the back your mind that something like this would happen, doesn’t take away from the razor sharp embarrassment that cuts through your chest.

Your forearm shoots up to rub away the burning itch of tears that threaten to fall, your head turning away in a mixture of shame and regret. Stupid—

You’re about to retreat, slide off his lap like a miserable pile of goo, but the delicate touch on your chin, coaxing you to face him startles you. Even more so when he tugs at the offending glove and brushes a bare finger down your cheek, a mere whisper against your skin. “You have a soft heart.” 

Your heart leaps into your throat, your pulse roaring in your ears as he slips the other glove off, settling one of his bare hands over the swell of your hip while the other tentatively slip between your legs and presses against your clit. You gasp and arch into the light touch, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he increases the pressure. 

He trades his hold on your hip to slide his hand into your shirt, palming and kneading your breast through your bra as you roll and whine against his fingers. The tight circles he's drawing over your clit burns through your abdomen, drags you closer to the precipice that you’re all ready so close to. You whine his name as wicked heat licking up your body and spreading to each limb. You arch into him and with a firm hand, he parts your soaking cunt and thrusts two of his fingers inside, grinding the heel of his palm into the little bundle of nerves. 

With a chuckle his hand leaves your shirt to pull you against his chest, the vocoder rumbling against your ear. “Good little Rabbit—cum on my fingers.”

Your body seizes as white hot heat sears through your core. Stars, brighter than a dying sun burst behind your eyes, a long whine filtering past your lips as shake and fall apart in his arms, your cunt clenching tight around his fingers. 

You whine as he pulls out, little aftershocks of pleasure wracking through your body after your euphoric high. You’re barely conscious of your actions as he lifts your head and pushes his digits, coated in your juices into your mouth. You lick them clean, tasting the tang of your own arousal and the salt on his skin. With a satisfied hum, he slips them out, allowing your head to finally rest against his chest.   

His hands are warm around your hips, tracing little patterns into the exposed skin—so light you’re sure you’re imagining it. You chide yourself—there’s no space for these kind of things. Not now.   

The beskar is an uncomfortable thing to lay your cheek on—cold too—yet his soft sigh convinces you to stay put. Just for another second, suspended in a strange intimacy that neither of you should be dipping your toes into. 

A gentle hush encompasses the cockpit, lulling you into a light doze. Though as your eyes struggle to stay open, the subtle inhale before a sentence is spoken keeps them from shutting. You wonder if he’ll muster the courage to speak or if he’ll let the words settle back into that lake teeming with uncovered mysteries and things better left unsaid.     

“What would you do...” The beginning of his words tapers off as if he could pretend you wouldn’t hear it. It’s low, almost...uncertain. Well, as uncertain as Boba Fett could be with a head so full of his arrogance and pride. 

His fingers drift higher up your back, ghostlike and teasingly soft.You hate the goosebumps that are left in the wake of his bare fingertips crawling up your spine. Swallowing, your fingernail taps at the chipped paint and circles the little brand on his cuirass. “Do what?” 

He doesn’t answer right away—chewing on his words like they’ve stuck to the roof of his mouth and don’t intend to leave. He shifts and you’re afraid he’s about to shove you off his lap and storm away, but all he does is clear his throat and settle a palm on your upper back. “If I...if I let you go. What would you do?” 

Your brows furrow, your heart kicking up into a rapid flurry of panic. That’s not fair—that’s not fair of him to say. You look up, your own twisted features staring back at you in the muted spectrum of blacks and grays in his visor. This is a joke—another one of his games to push you over the edge while he gets to bask in his idea of proclaimed hilarity. “That’s not funny.” 

“It’s not supposed to be.” 

You ball your hand into a fist as a tidal wave of resentment, followed with chilly anguish washes over you. Your head spins and battles with opposing opinions and reasons why he should just go through with delivering you to his employer. Be done with it and get his moneys worth without any consequence. 

And yet, there’s a minuscule part of you, sprouting away from the dark cloud of inevitability, that wonders. Wonders if you should fight—convince him you deserve to live, untangle you from the disastrous web the Empire has cast around your limbs with no hope of escape. You sigh and shut your eyes. 

“I’d never escape from the Empire even if you did,” you murmur. “The only time I’d be free is if I were dead.”

                                             <><><><><><><><>

He promised himself that this would never happen. 

Never let his own desires and emotions interfere with a job. 

It’s irresponsible, bad for business and frankly quite stupid. This could cost him his credibility, his credits, his life.  

You don’t double cross your employer—it’s the first rule of business that even a child would understand.   

Boba Fett is cunning and clever; always one step ahead of his enemies. Always methodical, refusing to leave any loose ends that even hint at coming back around to bite him in the ass. He’s convinced himself that a will of iron is necessary—the only way to survive and to grow stronger than those who’ve hurt him—bested him in the game of life.  

Cold, methodical, a legend.   

And you…

You are soft. Gentle and too kind for someone to be caught up in this sort of mess. He shouldn’t be delivering you to Death’s doorstep in exchange for credits. You should be off living on some remote planet, far out of the reaches of the Empire. Away from him. Billions of miles from his bloody fingertips that stain your skin like black ink against a white canvas.  

But you’ve made your choices and he’s made his.    

And none of it soothes the festering storm, with winds more forceful than those on Kamino, that rattle through his ribcage. It tears through his sternum, cuts through the beskar and leaves an open wound—raw and tender that grows tenfold the second your eyes land on him. 

You don’t beg when he hoists you up from the floor, no blubbering tears or last minute bargains to spare your life. Not even as you both reach the loading ramp, one mere tap of the button that would reveal you both to the man waiting on the landing platform. One button and he’d be free of you. You’re braver than most. 

He’ll give you that. 

He shouldn’t have said anything—saved himself from the steady ache that comes with having to look you in the eye. Drives a stake so deep into his chest the second you spare him a precious smile that twinkles like unrefined coaxium and thank him. You’re thanking him for the barest amount of kindness he offered to you on your last days of life. 

Boba isn’t sure who he hates more; himself or you. 

He must be staring too long—committing each soft slope and contour of your cheeks, the freckles, your softly parted lips, to memory—because the gentle nudge to his arm startles him. 

“I’ll be alright,” you grin. You make a poor impression of a blaster with your finger and thumb and mimic the sound of it firing. “One shot to the head and I’m gone.” 

“I know how blasters work.”

You shrug and glance at his hand that hovers over the button. “Then why are you hesitating?”

The million credit answer. One that you both know the answer to. 

“Because you won’t be dying. Not today and not while I’m still alive.”  

                                     <><><><><><><><><><><>

The outfit is garish. 

Too white.

Too clean. 

A color that deceives his true nature and masks what he truly is— a viper laying in wait for unsuspecting prey and witless victims. The smile that curls along the man’s unshaven face is meant to charm, but all it does is unsettle. 

Boba has never once trusted a man who relies solely on the weight of his words rather than his own actions. All that this man has are words. Words, and a flimsy position within the ranks of the Empire. That, and twelve heavily armed Death Troopers that guard him, if you count them as well.  

Orson Krennic. 

A man that’ll get what’s coming to him. Perhaps not Boba’s own plasma bolt through the middle of his finely pressed uniform—but something equally as satisfying.

Grey hairs that escape his hat glint like shards of metal shrapnel in the midday sun, the Director’s smile steady as he speaks. “Took you long enough, bounty hunter.” 

Boba’s teeth clamp onto his tongue, the metallic taste of blood flooding his tastebuds. “Too bad you have to rely on one, Director.” 

Krennic snorts, folds his arms behind his back and saunters closer. “And your bounty? What of her?” 

“Dead.”

[passivenovember]

@coffeeandchemicals (aka the sweetest angel bb) asked:  For the drabbles, 55 or 60 or 72 with harringrove! Please and thank you!! 💙

55. “Our first date is a picnic. On a beach..under the stars? Have you swallowed a romance novel? Do I need to call a doctor?

Paper Angels.

The things is. Steve’s always had a sixth sense when it comes to falling in love. Can smell that shit from a mile away, the reeking infatuation that turns his already liquified brain into something like sludge. Mashed potatoes with too much milk, or something. 

And it used to be that Robin would point it out in that usual way of hers, before Steve became a pro at monitoring his own downfall. Pick your tongue up off the floor, dingus. 

And it used to be that Steve would take it like. A basketball to the back of the head, the realization that he was bleeding out in an open field for fucking whoever. Nancy Wheeler or Mark Lewinski or Brittani Clark. Robin could always sense it when Steve’s feelings started leaking out of his ears, but.

Billy Hargrove was something else entirely.

Neither of them saw it coming. The pushes and snarky comments that morphed into butterflies and concealed smiles under the light of the full moon, it was like.

Crossing a deserted road only to be fuckin’. T-boned by a cyclist who doesn’t have their lights on, or something. 

One day they were enemies. Avoiding each other like the plague--Billy actually gagged when Steve passed by him at parties. Called him Steve “Sloppy Seconds” Harrington, and. Yeah. The feeling was fuckin’ mutual, alright?

Because Hargrove always wore too much cologne and Steve had the sneaking suspicion, after that night at the Byers’ when contact sports took on a whole new meaning with the sound of ceramic against his skull, that Billy perfumed his dick.

Sometimes guys did that, he’d heard. And if Steve had to bet, like, cold hard cash on it, Billy Hargrove was definitely one of those guys. And not that Steve really. Thought about it much or anything but kissing Billy was probably like licking the inside of an ash tray. 

Just the thought of made him gag.

So, yeah. The feeling was mutual. The queasiness in Steve’s tummy was, like, disgust or something. Every time he saw that curly top above a sea of drunk high schoolers, he would start sweating a shit.

Bullets. Like he was going to face the electric chair, and. Steve had never thought for even a second that that feeling was mutual. 

That Billy would be anxious to see him. Would escape the moment he heard Steve rounding the corner into whatever lame party was on the ducat this week, so. When they eventually became friends. Best Friends, close as a couple of girls, it felt like Steve had solved the most difficult puzzle in the universe. 

They were shitfaced. Drunk enough to forget ceramic plates and nervous feelings, and Billy had tried to high-five him. Steve, on his way out for a smoke. Passed by with a little, well if it isn’t the leftover turkey, and. It would’ve been cool, but. They missed. 

By a lot. Two guys who never sat on the bench during a game, they. Fuckin’ couldn’t land a high five from less than a foot away and that was it. Billy’s walls crumbled around them like so much graham cracker dust, and. 

His eyes were pretty. Had they always been that pretty? Steve couldn’t remember but then Billy was leaning in, cheeks pink from laughter and whispering, You ain’t half bad, Harrington, into the shell of Steve’s ear. 

Like it was a secret only the two of them could remedy, and. Billy pulled away. Winked, waggled his stupid, ridiculous tongue, and. When he passed by he smelled like summer rain. Black pepper and grapefruit.

Steve closed his eyes and felt the love leaking from his ears.

Shit.

--

After that it was like surviving a forest fire. Billy would show up at Steve’s just before midnight with a six pack of Budweiser and a half smoked joint. On bad day’s he acted like coming to Steve’s house was a chore, like. Steve was holding him at gunpoint, preaching about commitments like Steve had even asked for his company in the first place, and.

On those nights it almost wasn’t worth it. The feeling of being close to Billy, it was. Hard to talk to him. 

And it wasn’t like falling slowly. Through syrup or stacks of blankets, like his usual style, it was like. 

Getting in the car and driving way, into the night, with no map and no funds and no clue of what the end would look like. Steve fell hard and fast and slammed into the ground until he was one with the molten earth, on the good nights, too. When Billy grinned and cracked jokes and fuckin’. Winked. 

So. The good outweighed the bad. For months, for millennia, it seemed. Until Steve couldn’t remember a time when midnight didn’t signal the arrival of love. And he would take it, anything, everything, for just a peak at the person he knew was hidden under all that hairspray and chiseled skin, so.

When Billy showed up one night with his car packed full of shit, Steve grabbed his coat without a word.

What are you doin’, Harrington.

I’m coming with you.

No you aren’t, that’s not. Look. I just came to say goodbye, so.

Not that easy to get rid of. 

Billy tried to fight him, tried to. Hold him off, or something. Like any force in the fucking universe would be strong enough to keep them apart. 

Steve made a face.

And Billy knew what that face meant so he cleaned out the passenger side of the Camaro. Stupid shit like lamps and folded quilts, shuffling it all to the back seat where there was clearly enough space. 

It was almost like. He had known what Steve would do. 

It was like he’d been preparing to say no, baby. I don’t have enough room, see? I’m saddled with more than I can take already, and I just--

Almost like he was hoping Steve would insist, anyway, and.

“Go pack a bag, pretty boy.”

Steve would follow him anywhere.

--

Billy came alive in California. The bad nights stopped existing out in the open air, they hid instead. Under the blanket of nightfall, under the sling of Steve’s arm. They paid extra for a two bedroom apartment on the beach, because.

I’m not expecting you to. Sleep in my bed, Steve.

Right. They were still pretending. 

The second bedroom sat collecting dust. Steve emptied his trash bag of essentials into the dresser in Billy’s room, because. The love was constantly ruining his shirts, these days. 

Steve bled blue and gold. Blatantly. Because he never felt it before, this. Feeling. Like the sand is being washed from his skin. Like he’s curling up in bed after a long day of hard work.

Billy makes him feel that way, so.

Steve can’t hide it. And he doesn’t try to. Not when they watch cartoons together on the couch, not when Billy sucks a hole into his neck under their blanket in their bed and asks, we goin’ steady? Like it’s even a fucking question, or something, but.

Steve realizes they went backwards. Won the game before actually learning the rules. 

Do you wanna go on a date with me? He asks one morning. It’s raining, so Billy isn’t surfing and Steve isn’t sketching out on the porch, and. 

It seems as good a time as any.

Billy has milk running down his chin when he looks up, eyes so blue and wide like he never expected it to fucking happen. Isn’t this a date?

What?

Right now, Billy says through a mouthful of Lucky Charms. We’re eating. Alone. Making eyes at each other over our meal--

Steve snorts. This isn’t a date.

And Billy’s face, fucking. Falls. He rinses his plate in the sink and kinda, doesn’t turn back around. Steve doesn’t know how he fucked it up already. 

Bills?

What’s a date look like then? And that. Makes Steve laugh. 

You’ve been on, like. So many dates, baby. 

Not with you. Billy says flatly. When he turns around again his cheeks are pink. Not from laughter, but. From something else. I never went on any dates with you, so. How would I identify one in a crowd.

And Steve knows. Instantly, knows he’s not going to get out of this one. 

Perfect first date shit, alright, I can. I can do that.  He leans back in the hideous avocado green chair Billy picked out and. Sucks on his bottom lip. We have the day free. Because, um. It’s the off season. Right after labor day and, uh. The shop’s getting ready to shift into winter. 

Billy grins. So in your perfect scenario we’re broke?

Listen, asshole wouldja just--

Alright, baby. Billy sits in the chair across from him and looks, fucking. So pretty in Avocado Green. I’m listening. 

So Steve tells him. Their perfect date begins and ends with ease, it’s as simple as breathing. The way it’s always been for them. Natural. Steve packs a basket with a goddamn. Charcuterie board and like, fresh fruit and shit. The sun sets and Steve gets down on one knee and--

Our first date is a picnic. On a beach..under the stars? Billy doesn’t look even a little bit like laughing, not. Not when his nose goes all bunchy. Have you swallowed a romance novel? Do I need to call a doctor?

Steve isn’t really in the mood for jokes. 

He covers his face with his hands, because. They went backwards. Never even put labels on it, or second guessed anything because Steve won the lottery. That night when the high fives went up in smoke, he. 

Got everything he ever wanted.

Billy tugs at his wrists. Yanks and soothes and rearranges Steve’s skin until they’re chest to chest against avocado green. His eyes are teary. Fuck.

I didn’t mean to make you cry, baby. Steve says. ‘S a bad idea anyhow, too much pressure. You mean a lot and I fuckin’. Made you cry. Tears were never a part of the deal.

Billy lets Steve wipe his cheeks and then he’s smiling. 

Not grinning or smirking or teasing, but. Happy. We could make this a date.

Steve shrugs. Yeah, I guess we could.

Pack some sandwiches, sit on the patio. Billy winks. Just like all those nights when neither boy could give their emotions a name. Take away some of the pressure. 

I kinda dig the pressure, though.

Were you really gonna get down on one knee? Billy whispers. At the end of our first date? You know the statistics on divorce are--

Against his will, Steve’s chucking. 

And on the first date? Billy tuts, cheeks pink again. You know I don’t put out for any ol’ pair of brown eyes, Harrington. I wait until at least the fourth date.

It’s been five years. 

So marry me. Billy says. On Tuesday or something, we can. Go to the beach or whatever. Elope. 

And. 

Just like that night. With the Camaro stuffed to the brim, and Billy gripping his fingers like a lifeline in a storm, Steve has no choice. He never did, because. Yeah.

He kisses Billy, each cheek, both eyelids, before carrying him to their bedroom and wonders. If they’ll ever start at the beginning.

[devinescribe]

Nothing Holding Me Back

Chota Segawa

ChotawithaconfidentdaringgirlChotawithaconfidentdaringgirlChotawithaconfidentdaringgirlChotawithaconfidentdaringgirlChotawithaconfidentdaringgirlChotawithaconfidentdaringgirl

C h o t a w i t h a c o n f i d e n t d a r i n g g i r l

"Come on Chota! It would be so refreshing for you to leave Japan, come with me," you begged the man, leaning over his desk, your elbows holding you up, and you hands clasped together . "A-ah, um- (Y...Y/N), I can't. I... my mom, and uh... I'm sorry, I can't c-concentrate with you like that," he stammered, staring at your chest. You smirked. "Like what? Like this?" You asked, feigning innocence. You fluttered your eyelashes, leaning in further, teasing him. "(Y-Y/N)! Please, I-i-i-i-" he stammered. "So, will you?" You repeated, giving him the puppy dog eyes. He shakily sighed, and nodded. "Yay! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" You shouted, hugging him tightly. He blushed, and gave you a hum of acknowledgement.

"So... a whole month?" He asked as you two got on the plane. "Yep! I'm excited, are you?" You asked. "You won't tell me where we're going, so I'm worried than anything," he muttered. You kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry bubba," you apologized. "It's ok... um... can you tell me where we're going? And what happens on a plane? It's my first time going on one..." he admitted bashfully. You giggled, helping him to your seats.

"Window seat or middle seat?" You asked. "Middle. I'm not... that fond of heights," he said. You slid in, sitting by the window, snapping your seat belt into place. He did the same, and you clasped your hands together. "Ok, so we're going to South America. It's pretty much an 18 hour or more flight. Which is why I booked us first class," you explained. His eyes went wide and he stared at you in shock. "(Y/N) why did you do that?" He asked. "Because it's your first time on a plane, I'm spoiling you, I have the money to do so, so why not?" You giggled. It was true, you were the CEO of your own company, making you very well known. Your company was one of the best in Japan for what you did.

Chota didn't know why you were with him, and not some rich man. But you always wanted him. You used to go to high school together, but were disappointed when he would avoid you.  It wasn't till the last year of high school you finally approached him about it. Then, he apologized, telling you how he thought you were already with someone and he didn't want trouble.

"Now the flight attendants give the safety info, they start to take off, and we lift from the ground. Oh, here have some gum. What flavor do you want, because I have spearmint, peppermint, watermelon, and cinnamon," you explained, holding out the packets of gum. "Why do I need some?" He asked. "The altitude makes your ears plug up, and it can be painful. I've found chewing gum helps," you said with a smile. He picked a piece of cinnamon gum, and thanked you. "No problem baby~ Oh, you wanted to know the specific countries we were going to earlier right?" You asked. He nodded. "Chile, Argentina, Brazil, and Venezuela, " you said. He nodded. "Were going to Venezuela first, then Chile, then Argentina, and finally Brazil. We might get to Bolivia, Colombia, and Ecuador, I don't know. But, if I get the chance, I'm taking it. Fuck hesitation," you giggled. He shook his his head, and smiled. "Let's hope there's no turbulence!"

"There's no what now?"

Needless to say, there was turbulence.

He gripped your hand tightly as the plane bounced and jittered. "You ok baby?" You questioned softly. He shook his head, and you closed the door leading into your seats. "It's ok. You're ok. The pilot has years of training and experience. Nothing bad will happen to us, I promise," you said soothingly. He nodded his head, interlocking his fingers with your own. "Thank you (Y/N)..." he whispered.

It was nighttime and you looked out the window. You couldn't see anything, all you knew was that there was ocean beneath you. The turbulence had stopped, and Chota had calmed down a bit. "How many more hours do we have left?" He asked. "Um... about 10. Well arrive there at 8:30, so we have time to check into the hotel, and figure out what to do for the first day," you responded. You yawned and curled up in your seat, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Go to sleep. They'll wake us up," you muttered. You heard him yawn, and felt his head fall on top of yours softly.

You woke up to the sun shining in your eyes. You groaned, squinting at the golden light. Once your eyes got used to the sudden brightness, you looked outside. There was no clouds visible in the sky, and you could see the sparkling blue water below you. "Oh wow... beautiful... Chota... Chota, wake up," you whispered, shaking his shoulder. "5 more minutes..." he murmured. You peppered his face in kisses, telling him to wake up in between them. "I'm... up? I'm up... what's wrong love?" He asked groggily, rubbing his eyes. "Look outside baby," you said, pointing out your window. He unclipped his seat belt, leaning over to look out. "Wow... we're so high up," he marveled. He squinted a bit at the light coming from the sun, but other than that, he seemed to be enjoying it. You were confused on why he wasn't worrying, or panicking, but we're very proud of him.

"What if we just dropped into the ocean?"

There it was.

First thing you both did when you landed was sigh in relief. Him in relief that he didn't die, you in relief that you got away from home. "Chota, come on, we gotta go get our bags, then taxi to the hotel!"

The hotel wasn't too far away. "Don't they speak Spanish here though?" He asked. "Baby... did you forget?" You giggled. He had. But then he remembered. You knew Spanish. In fact, you knew many languages. "Right. Sorry," he apologized. "You don't have to apologize for that. Come on, let's go spend our first day the right way!"

This was not what he had in mind for the first day. He knew you were adventurous, but this might be a bit too much for him. Sure, a hike sounded nice. Until he noticed you'd taken him up to a waterfall. That overlooked the whole forest.

"Isn't this so amazing?" You questioned. "Y-yea- Watch your step," he stuttered, pulling you back into him. "Chota, it's ok. Come on," you said, leading him closer to the water. "You can actually drink this water it's so clean, did you know that?" You told him, reaching your hand out. "Eh... I wouldn't test it," he said. "No, like they've tested it. I swear!" You tried to convince him. "Yeah, ok... you do you."

It was later that night, and you were looking for things to do. "Anything in particular you want to do?" You asked him. ''Not really? I'm sure I'll enjoy whatever you pick out."

Famous last words.

The music was loud, the lights were bright, and the room was full of life. This was your kind of place. "(N/N)... if someone recognized you, couldn't it affect your business?" He said, hoping you heard him over the music. "Of course it won't! Who cares, I didn't want to inherit my mother's company anyhow! I'm grateful for it if course but I'd rather be travelling, exploring, and doing new things everyday. With you!" You shouted, swaying to the music. "Come on, let's dance!" You said, pulling his arm. He pulled back, shaking his head. ''I can't dance... I'd rather not embarrass myself... especially with so many people," he said. "Just picture everybody naked, let's go, loosen up babe!"

Your hips swayed to the beat of the music, and he watched, gulping. "Chota~ C'mon! Dance with me!" You begged, pulling him in to you. "But what.. do I do?" He asked. You giggled, placing his hands on your hips. "And we kind of... just move against each other to the beat," you instructed, showing him how to. "Isn't this kind of... dirty? Like... to do in public?" He asked. "Chota, Chota, Chota.... This is South America. This is tame. Oh, you should've been to the trip in Puerto Rico. That reminds me, I have to teach you Reggaeton and some others," you laughed, "There's nothing holding me back from taking you there."

You had always been spontaneous. Free willed. You didn't have anything that scared you. Staying in one place bored you. The thought of it gave you chills. He wouldn't mind doing everything with you. But only because it would be you that was with him. Even if you two took it a bit to far, he knew you'd be alright. You were right. Why should anything hold him back?

[hawkthewintersoldier]

When the Numb3rs Add Up to = (U+m3) Part 1: Friendly Meetings

“What’ve we got?”

The scene was bright and vibrant… including the blood on the ground, which was a brilliant ruby shade. Don Eppes, one of the lead agents at the FBI in Los Angeles, was kneeling and inspecting a female corpse, who was staring blankly up at the sky.

“Female, mid-to-late 20s, blond hair with deep brown roots… brown eyes.” Megan said, kneeling with Don and pointing. “…Same M.O…. He wrote ‘Trick or Treat’ across her forehead after stabbing her to death… sexually assaulted…”

Don groaned, his eyes going up as he stood. “…Damn.”

“Don.” David called out, gesturing them to look over at the body. “…Look. No splatters… nothing to suggest that this happened here.”

“No. She’s like the others… he’s taking them somewhere else and killing them.” David said, sighing. “…By some miracle of God, are there any prints? Cameras around here?”

“…Uh, sorry Don. No.” Colby said carefully as Don rubbed his temples. “…Is Charlie coming out?”

“Yeah, he’s on the way…”

At that moment, a vehicle pulled up… and Charlie, Don’s brother, stepped out of the passenger side, a notebook in his hands. Don whipped his head up, then shook his head, pointing at the body and gesturing for it to be covered as he walked.

“Charlie!”

“Hey, Don…” Charlie said, his eyes focused on the clues from the last two victims. “…What can you tell me?”

“…She’s in the same age-range… has naturally brown hair that was bleached blond… brown eyes… same build…”

Charlie stared at him, then glanced around at the body that was being zipped into a bag. She was young enough to be a student of his… a fact that made him cringe. “You realize that this practically guarantees that these women were targeted… and this person could be after them for any number of reasons regarding their looks, ages, even some other detail we don’t know about yet. We know their ideal target, but not the WHY…”

“I know, Charlie… it’s why the FBI’s got another person on this with you… how HAS your conversations with J. been?” Don asked, curiosity on his face as Charlie smiled slightly.

“He’s very clever… helped me a bit on figuring out a formula for all of these variables that simplified things a bit more. They have to be more than a mathematician…” Charlie said as a woman off to the side nodded and came over, having overheard.

“…They are.” She said, then offered her hand as Charlie took it. “Special Agent Cameron Dodge.” She said as Charlie shook her hand, nodding. “…Myers is a criminology student as well as a mathematics major over at CalSci. We’re looking forward to trying to hire them once they’re out of school.” She said as Charlie tilted his head to the side.

“A criminology student?”

“And mathematics, yes. They studied YOUR work, actually, Professor Eppes…” Cameron smiled, watching the surprised look go across his face. “Made them want to combine the two. I think their thesis paper is going to be on the proposed benefits of mathematics on the crime scene.”

“Oh, wow.” Charlie said, his eyes widening as Cameron nodded.

“Mmhmm…”

“I was actually thinking that it might be time to bring this guy in to see everything we have face to face and work directly with you, Charlie…” Don said as Charlie nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Charlie said, his eyes on Cameron as she nodded.

“Fantastic… They’re usually working on equations in CalSci’s math wing… room 16A.” Cameron said as Don stared at her. “…I used to go to them to get my questions answered when your brother was unavailable.” Cameron explained as Charlie and Don both nodded. “…You may as well go ahead and find them.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. I have to head back to CalSci anyhow…” Charlie said, smiling over at Don. “…See you.”

“Sure thing, Charlie.”

~*~

Charlie sighed as he headed through the halls of CalSci, a hand going through his curls tiredly as he glanced at the little piece of paper. He didn’t know much about this mystery mathematician he’d been working with the last few days, just that the FBI worked with them here and there, mostly by e-mail… but Agent Dodge said that she had worked with them personally before sending him to CalSci to get them… and they’re eccentric…

Don had just laughed, because he thought Charlie himself was eccentric… but Charlie never saw it as eccentric. He just… didn’t think like them. And that was ok. He saw the world more in numbers and equations than most did. Everything is numbers, after all…

“…Room 16A…” he muttered, glancing at each door as he walked. He knew every professor, minus a few new ones… but the students… some slid past him without him having met them… and the one he was meeting today was in that group. He never paid attention to memorizing names of students, just faces, but he had asked flat out if this J. Myers was a student of his… they’d said no, but they’d attended his lectures here and there. Apparently, face to face human interaction wasn’t a big thing for them, something Charlie understood. Big crowds weren’t his thing either.

“…J. Myers.” Charlie frowned, glancing at the door as he nodded. “…There. 16A.”

Walking in, he was expecting to find a mathematician at work…

What he FOUND… was a young woman with headphones on her head, her backside moving from side to side as her head bopped. Her hand reached out and grabbed a rice krispy treat off the table, her eyes not glancing over at all… An oversized plaid shirt hung loosely on her, unbuttoned in the front, with a black tank top beneath it, and pale blue jeans hugged her hips. He tilted his head to the side… glancing back at the paper, and he blinked.

“…Hello?”

She didn’t pay him a lick of attention, and that alone caused him to huff a bit and wave a hand.

“…Excuse me??”

Her mouth began mouthing lyrics, too quietly for him to hear… but he made out a few of them… and recognized the song as R. Kelly’s Ignition Remix… not a terrible song… but he wasn’t there to listen to music… or watch anyone dance to them.

Though… he had to admit… as she rolled her hips… she wasn’t terrible to look at… Her hands came up, fingers lacing through her hair before fluffing it as she moved, and he bit back a flush as he cleared his throat loudly.

Her head whipped around and she let out a shout of surprise, jumping from the shock of him seeming to appear out of nowhere. “OH MY GOD!” she yelped, then tugged her headphones off as he gave her a slightly bemused look. “W-WHAT’RE YOU DOING HERE?! WHO ARE YOU!?”

“Sorry… Professor Charlie Eppes… um, the FBI sent me, Agent Cameron Dodge told me that someone might be working on their formulas in here… but I guess they’re out.” Charlie sighed, his hands going into his pocket. “…Can you tell… um… J. Myers that I’m looking for them and that I’ll be in my office?” he asked as she nodded, her eyes wide. “Sorry to bother you in your… dance… session…” he snorted as she stared, then watched him turn.

He was quickly out the door… snorting under his breath… and he heard the sounds of chalk on a chalkboard. His sneakers squeaked as he stopped, a frown on his face as he made an about face and quickly walked back in.

There was the girl… headphones back on, her head bopping and that treat she’d picked up before now in her mouth… but she was working at the board. She was quickly writing out a formula, her eyes focused on the board as she nodded, glancing up in thought before continuing her writing… Her shoulders and hips swayed lightly as she quietly sang, her song having changed…

“Say my name, say my name… if no one is around you, say baby I love you, if you ain’t running games…”

He leaned against the frame of the door, his eyes on the formulas on the board… and he watched as she added more to them, her head bopping…

“…YOU.” He said loudly as she jumped again, her eyes wide as she whipped around.

“DO YOU HAVE A THING FOR SCARING GIRLS?!” she yelped, her eyes on his as he shook his head.

“No… I NEED to speak to J. Myers… Do you know where they are?” he asked as she stared. “…Look, we need them for an FBI case…”

She sighed… then moved her headphones to rest at her neck and setting the chalk down, moving towards him and extending her hand. “…Jennifer.” She said quietly as he took her hand. “…Jen. Jen Myers… senior.” Jen said as he nodded, grinning a bit.

“You COULD have said that.”

“You never gave me a chance.”

Charlie simply chuckled, nodding. “…I guess I really didn’t.” he admitted, then glanced at her equations. They weren’t from the current case… these were more delicate and had been nearly perfected. “…For your thesis?” he asked curiously as she nodded. “…Master’s degree?” he asked as she blinked at him, then simply pointed at the formulas.

“…My thesis is on the application of mathematics in the criminology field, specifically the use of mathematics in the solving of crimes.” Jen said carefully, watching as he nodded. “…Some of it comes from your research and formulas, actually… credited in my paper of course.” she said quickly as he grinned, pointing at the formula.

“I recognize parts of this… this part here, for example… and the bit after it… but you’ve refined some of it. Where’d you get some of this?” Charlie asked curiously as she shifted, then glanced at him.

“…FBI databases.”

“Did you hack it?” he asked with amusement as she shook her head fast.

“No, of course not! I was gathering data for a case… and found it. I found it fascinating, so I… acquired it.”

Charlie simply nodded, his eyes lit up. “…Well you’ve done a great job with it… I like the substitution you used here… it simplifies the equation.”

“I know… part of my thesis is making a computer program that can utilize the mathematical aspects that people like you come up with and come up with likely variables and hypotheses for the investigators to use… the world isn’t filled with Professor Eppes’, after all.” Jen said with a grin, watching as he laughed a bit.

“It’s clever. Might put me out of a job at the FBI, but…” he snorted with amusement as she blinked, her eyes widening.

“Oh, NO! Not at all!” Jen said, grabbing her papers to rifle through them. “There would still need to be someone making new, up-to-date equations for the program to run…”

“I was kidding… Do you prefer Jennifer or Jen?” Charlie asked as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“…Jen.”

“Ok… well I was kidding, Jen.” Charlie grinned, then stared at the board, his eyes going over her equations, then glancing at her as she moved beside him again, her eyes focused. “…You know, these really are good.”

“Thanks… I was going to ask you for your professional opinion once this case was solved…” Jen said, bringing her chalk back up as Charlie nodded, then peered at her.

“Why DID you never tell me your NAME…?” he asked as she blinked, then shrugged. “…You knew who I was.”

“Who here on campus doesn’t?” Jen said pointedly, a smile tugging at her lips as he ran a hand through his hair. “…I’m just a nobody.” She shrugged, her eyes going to another line of the equation. “…my name doesn’t matter.”

“I’d have wanted to get to know who I was working with.” Charlie said pointedly as she nodded, glancing at him before continuing.

“…Sorry about that, then.” She said, frowning up at her equation. “…I’m not really a people-person. I’ve been told my social skills are lacking.” Jen said as he laughed.

“I understand THAT.” He said, then tilted his head to the side… then grabbed an eraser, removing a portion of the formula before editing what had been there a bit, her head whipping to him as he smiled. “…There. That should eliminate a few steps in the formula.”

She leaned forward… then nodded, her eyes widening. “…Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” Charlie said, glancing at the door. “…so… there was a reason I came.” He said, holding out a folder as she frowned, then took it and opened it… and paled a bit. “…Another one. This morning.” Charlie said quietly as she nodded, her eyes wide.

“…Damn.”

“Yeah. We have more information, but it also adds variables… we have to pick through them… plug them into a chart to see what aspects align with each victim.” Charlie said, pointing at the paper to show her a few details as Jen nodded.

“Agreed… I’d also suggest some data mining… analyze the victims based on their characteristics… maybe it’ll give you more of an idea as to who the next victim might be.”

“Right, right… I’d thought of that, but we didn’t have enough to go on… but this makes victim four.” Charlie nodded, glancing at the photo and some of the information that he’d jotted down. “…I can work with this… WE can, if you’re interested in helping…”

“I absolutely am.” Jen nodded, her eyes on the photo. “…We’ll figure this out.”

“I hope so…”

[crowleyellestair]

Scent - Geralt Drabble

AN// I know it’s only been like an hour since I posted, but I just burst from my prison of writers block. Check out Another Morning- Geralt Drabble and all of my other Witcher stuff! (Geralt, Jaskier and Regis fics)

The night was long, but the day was longer. Geralt had set off at dawn to help rid the people of the near by isle of a specter infestation. He had assured his two companions that though it would take a day minimum, it would only take two max. The bard had played at every venue in the small village, leaving only the inn, tavern and private shows the richer farmers divulged in. There were only four or five Gwent players and it seemed no one needed a healer, so the day dragged for Y/n just as much as it did Jaskier.

Normally, she’d have enough to do around the village to keep her mind occupied, but it seemed fate was trying to be funny. That fate wanted to see her have a small panic attack while focusing on all the things that could go wrong. Of course, she knew why neither of them were allowed to go with, hearing lecture after lecture as to how they were liabilities. They both knew though that it was really because he cared.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to worry, however.

Jaskier laughed when she came to his door later in the evening asking for his laundry. Usually they would convince the inns to do it for them because of their heroics, but Y/n needed to get her mind off of the horde Geralt was facing. The way the Peller had sold it made it seem as though there was more to it- that something more sinister would befall the isle whilst the witcher was eradicating the face valued threat. Y/n had mentioned it before he left, and he had agreed, but went without back up anyhow. So, in this uneventful day, laundry it was.

To try and be respectful to the residence of the town who were nice enough to let her use the wash stations for free, she did the laundry n increments. Y/n started with Jaskier’s, knowing it would take the longest. She wanted to keep the quality of the fabric and colour, so she spent time to delicately wash everything. An hour later she went back with her things. The three of them had fell into the habit of the bard taking his own room while Y/n and Geralt shared one. This was to both her excitement and disdain. She had an infatuation, but she didn’t think it was right to admit it. Geralt was a powerful man that can’t afford to be tied down. He lived longer than an ordinary human, and could find a handful of others that would suit his timetable. The healer was left to give as much affection as possible without stepping that line. Oddly enough, she had been getting bolder recently without any resistance on the witcher’s part.

She had made her way back to the room, stripping herself of the close she wore now to be able to wash them with Geralt’s. She had been undressed down to her small clothes, picking up discarded pieces along the way. It wasn’t until she found a semi clean black shirt of Geralt’s did she dress. At first, she had sniffed it to make sure it was dirty, but then noticed his scent lingering. Chamomile, steel, silver and sweat. The scent had calmed her for a moment, before realizing how late it was getting. She threw the shirt on, rushing to the wash. Everything was cleaned, but her nerves had come back full force.

Y/n could never find sleep when Geralt was alone, even if he scolded her. He always said it was because he didn’t want her whining on the road, but they both knew she wasn’t the whining type. Silent suffering, sure, but the outbursts had been all Jaskier. The healer decided to stay in front of the fire, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around herself. The shirt was baggy, but bunched up perfectly so that when she nuzzle her chin into the little crook her body made, his scent wafted. It was more calming than before, and she let her mind wander to warmer places- to times were the scent was most prominent.

When they were sharing a bed. No matter the temperature, she always found her limbs tangled with his come morning. They used to try and stay on the other side of the bed, but nowadays they start off wrapped around the other.

When he had to overexert himself into a job that didn’t deserve it, and she had to patch him up. Geralt would sit in a chair, Y/n kneeling between his legs to stich a particularly deep cut on his lower stomach.

Being shoved together in dark corners of the tavern, needing to share the same space because the bard brought back too many friends.

Sharing the same breath when he throws his body over hers in a protective way. Or fighting side by side, moving as one to try and fight their way out of whatever sticky situation they had found themselves in.

“Help.” Y/n jumped so much that she could have landed standing up. She turned to find Geralt smiling but a grimace was quickly taking hold. Nodding and rushing to her bag, she motions for him to sit at the desk. Heaving the larger bag onto the table, she huffed.

“Don’t sneak up like that, we have talked about this.” He focused on shedding armor, his voice rumbling and setting in her bones.

“I didn’t.” Y/n looked to the door, finding his weapons on the floor and the door wide open. A flush creeped up, rarely being caught in such deep daydreams. The gash on his shoulder wasn’t horrible, but there was a lot of specter dust and dirt in the wound. She stood, slotted between his legs, arching him so his forehead rested on her stomach. His hands came up to slightly squeeze her hips when she had to dig deeper into the cut. After she started the sutures was when he spoke up again. “My shirt.”

Y/n knew lying wasn’t an option, and since he couldn’t see her fluched face, what was the harm?

“I was doing laundry and needed to borrow it. But then um… the- ugh, now it just sounds weird. The smell calmed me down because I was worried about you. It seems I had somewhat of the right to be, however, so I don’t feel too guilty about it.” He simply hummed in response, but it sounded amused. She finished by rubbing salve around the area, and giving a quick pet to his hair before detaching. She made her way to the bed, getting under the covers, and pulling out the book she had started. Geralt washed himself before asking where his clothe were. “Oh, uh, they’re still drying. I thought I’d have more time, sorry.” Y/n apologized, but knew he wouldn’t care considering she did his laundry.

The witcher crawled into bed next to her, and she blew out the candle. There were a couple of moments where everything in the room was still before she felt two arms bring her flush to his chest. They laid on their sides, facing each other. His hand found its place behind her head, bringing it to curl and rest under his chin, which started to slightly move. It wasn’t until moments later that she realized his cheek was rubbing against her hair, and her nose shifted to press against the column of his neck. Trying to be subtle, she inhaled the smell.

The smell of safety.

Her whole body followed suit in curling closer to the man, and the arm covering her wrapped firmly to the compliance.

[telli1206]

A Christmas To Remember (Ch.1)

I was SO happy to get the chance to gift one of my favorites, @vndooms with a fic for @descendantsgiftexchange​! Your Jaylos fluff warms my heart, I have much love and respect for your fics. And your Descendants character artwork is undeniably adorable. Your Jaylos art lives rent free in my mind always 💖

Anyhow, I was inspired into a multi-chapter fic of all the Jaylos fluff, which I think you’ll notice was somewhat inspired by your stories. And I truly hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1 - Truly Christmas

Jay curses himself for not dressing warm enough when his body starts to shiver uncontrollably. A thicker coat would have definitely been a better idea. The light one he threw on absentmindedly is doing absolutely nothing to combat the icy breeze, which is getting colder by the minute as the sun fades over the horizon. 

He sighs as he cups his hands and blows. There’s no way he’s letting the cold stop him from enjoying the breathtaking holiday views. Fingers be damned, this is the most Christmassy thing he’s seen since he got back to Auradon.

From his vantage point on the front yard, he can see the fresh blanket of snow completely covering every surface, casting delicate blooms of crystal white that sparkle in the twilight. It’s like something out of a painting, it’s almost too perfect. 

Evie and Doug are standing just outside the front door of the castle, talking to the decorators perched on the rooftop, all busy at work draping gleaming white Christmas lights all over the castle overhangs. Multiple strands are dripping over the sides, glittering like the most beautiful icicles, reflecting all sorts of colors over the snowy ground beneath them.

He’s in complete awe, eyes wide and glossy as they try to absorb every gorgeous wintry detail. He’s not even aware Evie’s approaching until her quiet huffs distract him. 

His gorgeous friend is stumbling slowly through the soft mounds of snow, and he chuckles as his arms shoot out to steady her when she gets closer. Only Evie would be able to wear faux fur-tipped hiking boots with heels and not even look silly trying to use them as if they’re proper winter gear.

“Jay!” She pants quietly, gripping gratefully to his forearms as she catches her breath. “I’m so glad you came outside! Doug has been at this all day, I swear,” she shakes her head, still smiling slightly. “But I think it came out great, don’t you?”

She looks over her shoulder at the castle, beaming happily when Jay starts nodding. 

“For sure, Eves. It looks great. Really gets you in the Christmas spirit.”

He smiles as Evie leans in to hug him tightly. “Thanks Jay. I’m so glad you came! This is going to be so fun.”

Jay nods. “Thank you, Eves. I can’t think of a better way to spend my holiday break, honestly. It’s going to be so great having us all together for Christmas.”

Evie smiles and gives Jay another squeeze. “So, do you know if they’re close? I figured that’s why you came outside, right?” She cranes her neck to peer down the darkened driveway, looking out for any signs of movement.

“Yeah, Lon should almost be here. But I guess her new… ‘friend?’ is coming on her own.” He perks a brow, following Evie’s gaze down the empty path. 

Jay was shocked, to say the least, when Lonnie had confessed to him that she had recently started up a relationship, especially after revealing that it was long-distance. But the new girl lived in Auradon, so Lonnie jumped at the invite to stay with Evie and Doug, especially since they were more than welcoming to her bringing a date with her for the week.

“So, she still hasn’t told you her name even? That’s odd…” Evie comments when Jay shakes his head. “I wonder why?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs, checking his phone again. “Maybe it’s a surprise. Or I know her.” 

Jay chuckles at that last thought. He already knew there was a good chance he might know the girl if she’s been a local Auradonian for a while. But Lonnie had joked with him all through high school about the slim pickings for her in Auradon, so it just didn’t seem likely. 

He could be wrong, though. It’s not like things haven’t changed a lot for him since then, too. Anything is possible.

Jay’s phone lights up then, and he checks it quickly, trying to hide his reaction from Evie as he reads the message he’s been anxiously waiting for. But Evie already can tell who it is just from the look on his face. Only one person makes Jay smile that brightly.

“And...Carlos will be here soon?”

The sudden red blush warming Jay’s cheeks is answer enough for Evie, and she grins triumphantly. Jay ducks his head to avoid her knowing look, opting to turn and face the driveway to wait for the cars to arrive. An icy tingle in his fingers reminds him of just how cold he is, even if the heat in his face is helping with that...just a little bit.

The familiar crackling of ice on tires alerts Evie and Jay to a bright blue sedan coming through the dark shadow of the trees that line the road. Jay immediately recognizes Lonnie’s car and walks around to the driver’s side when it pulls up, with Evie leaning in to wave excitedly at Lonnie through the car window.

“Jayyy!” 

In an instant the dark-haired girl is launching out of the car towards him, wrapping her arms around him in a suffocating hug, pushing air out of his laughter until he’s barely wheezing. Jay hugs back, but he doesn’t even attempt the same strength that Lonnie puts into it. Just in case he can’t...and then she won’t let him live it down all week.

“Lons.”

He holds her tight, letting his chin rest on her shoulder. The familiar tickle of her hair on his cheek makes him smile. “You have NO idea how much I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, it better be tons.” She quips. She stands back and shoves him lightly in the chest, furrowing her brow to feign anger at him. But there’s no hiding the curl of her lips as they start their usual banter. It’s almost like it hasn’t been months since they’ve seen each other.

Jay chuckles and pushes back at her, going for her shoulder instead. “Yeah, yeah…I did. It’s so good to see you, Lon.” 

She gives him a final smirk and a wink before she turns away, facing Evie with a wide smile.

Evie immediately grabs Lonnie by the shoulders and pulls her in close, squealing happily. “Lonnie, so glad you could make it! Welcome!”

Lonnie’s face scrunches when Evie squeezes her in tight, but she manages to wiggle a little space between them. “Thanks for having me! And, my...date?”

She looks back to Jay, who’s raising a surprised eyebrow. 

“What, you’re not sure now?” He teases. “You’re spending the week here just so you can hang with this chick! Don’t-“  

He puts his hand up to silence Lonnie, and she snaps her mouth shut.

“-Don’t...bullshit your best friend, ok? We’ve never spent Christmas together as long as we’ve known each other.”

Surprisingly, Lonnie doesn’t try to argue. Instead, she just smiles softly, ducking her head a little to avoid Jay’s glare.

“Fuck, I better like this girl, Lons, if she’s already so damn special to you!”

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure you will.”

Lonnie’s slight smile at her comment is a little unnerving, and Jay finds himself studying her face, as if he could figure out what she’s thinking. But when another car pulls into the driveway, he loses all focus. Of everything.

He’s here.

He doesn’t even remember getting to the driver side door, but he already has it open, and is smiling down into the deep brown eyes he’s been waiting to see. He reaches out to take Carlos’ hand, helping him out of the car to stand in front of him. 

“Hey ‘Los. Long time no see.”

He smiles, and Carlos smiles back. It’s Jay’s favorite smile, bright and wide and golden, and meant just for him. His heart is wild and thrumming to life at the sight of it. He stands there for a moment, trying to etch the smile into his memory, and Carlos lets him, just holding his hand and feeling the warmth in their palms pressed together.

“Um. Hi. Jay?”

A petite voice shocks Jay back to life. One that is very familiar, but very unexpected. He dares a peek over Carlos’ shoulder to the girl that’s standing there, with shocking blue eyes and curly brown hair.

“Jane??” 

Her cheeks are pinking when she smiles at him, and he watches as Lonnie steps over to her, putting a tentative arm on her shoulder. But Jane doesn’t shy away. With a breathless giggle, she slowly leans herself into Lonnie’s touch.

“Lons…” Jay tries, processing slowly. He looks between both girls as he thinks. “Jane is...your date?”

His best friend looks nervous to respond, scratching her head and looking away from Jay. But Jane tilts her head up to Lonnie, giving her a toothy grin, and Lonnie catches it and smiles, too.

“Yeah,” she says, with Jane nodding her agreement.

“Ohhhh!” Evie coos, clapping again. “This is amazing! I can’t wait to hear all about how you two got together!”

Balancing on her heels again, Evie takes a wobbly step forward, waving everyone inside as she flails a bit across the snow.

“Come on, let’s get inside and get you settled. We’ll have a lot to talk about in the morning once we all get a little sleep in us.”

Jay grins and squeezes Carlos’ hand, using his grip to pull him in closer. Carlos snickers as he brushes against Jay’s side. They swing their hands together playfully, following carefully behind Evie, Lonnie and Jane.

“I missed you,” Carlos barely whispers, and Jay smiles at him, releasing their hands so he can grab him by the hips.

“Missed you too,” he whispers back, sneaking a kiss to Carlos’ temple. “But tell me, did you know about Jane and Lonnie? I mean, you had to if you drove her here, right?”

Carlos shushes him but offers a tiny nod. “Not everything, but Jane did need someone to talk to about it. This is totally new to her, you know?” 

Jay smiles in agreement and squeezes Carlos’ hip. “I’m sure she thought you’d be able to relate  best.” Carlos hums quietly but doesn’t look up. “Ok, I’ll let it slide that you didn’t tell me. Just this once. But you better tell me any of the juicy details she told you.” Carlos chuckles as they walk inside, stopping the conversation once they close in on Jane and Lonnie. 

Evie immediately ushers everyone up to their rooms for the night, insisting that rest is needed before their break truly starts. But Jay’s not complaining. He’s been waiting for this for much too long, and time alone with Carlos will be the perfect start to what he has planned for this week.

Once in their room, they make quick work of getting ready for bed, stripping off all the cold winter gear and frosted clothing in favor of their dry t-shirts and boxers. The bed is warm when they crawl in, but Jay still takes the opportunity to hug Carlos to him, making him laugh as he stumbles into Jay’s too-fast embrace.

They snuggle into each other, tangling their legs together and settling their heads onto the pillows. When they’re laying sideways and their faces are close, Jay starts to stroke his fingers lightly through Carlos’ hair, letting the soft curls thread around his fingers. Carlos tips his chin up, eyes bright and intently focused on Jay. Jay leans in, and presses a kiss to Carlos’ soft lips. 

“Best way to start Christmas break,” Jay mumbles against Carlos’s lips. He snorts out a laugh when their teeth clack harshly from Carlos’ wide smile.

They stay like that for a while, sliding their lips gently against each other’s, kissing lovingly but lightly. When he starts to feel the heaviness of sleep taking over his body, Jay gives a final sweet peck to Carlos’ lips and grins lazily.

“We’d better sleep ‘Los. We’ve got a lot going on this week.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow curiously. “Oh really? Sounds interesting.”

Jay chuckles as he hugs Carlos in to lay on his chest, letting his fingers dance across his arm soothingly.

“I hope so.”

[lady-maria-the-wolf225]

Mikey x reader Ch:8

Mikey's P.O.V

I've been ignoring my bros nearly all day. They were noticing it as they try to apologize, yet they would still tell me it's not right having a relationship with a human like (Y/N). I did ask Raph if he really meant what he said weeks ago about her being a keeper and April being too boring. Turns out, he was only joking about it. That really made me angry. They tried everything they could to cheer me up. Hell. I even lost my appetite for eating pizza. Master Splinter told them to just leave me be and focus what we had to do. I especially don't want to go to that stupid mission on what the purple dragons were up to. They can just go without me. I sat on my bed thinking about (Y/N) all day. My stomach was growling, my eyes were restless, and my blood was boiling. Somehow I feel like I'm turning into Raph. whatever. It is what it is. Just as the day couldn't get any worse, Splinter took away my video games and comics for the day as a punishment. Glad it wasn't the hashi. Leo opened the door to my room and walked up to me as I curled myself into a ball. "Mikey. Get up. It's time to go." I threw a pillow at his face and silently ignored him. He yanked me up from bed, and gave me my nunchucks. "Come on little brother. No time for immature fits. We have a mission to get to." I look down and I sigh. I didn't bring my board because....I wasn't in a happy mood. Instead of doing flips and running wild, I walked and didn't care. Minutes passed, and we finally made it to the purple dragon's lair. Donnie used his goggles to analyze what was going on. After that was done, we got down from the rooftop and the purple dragons started attacking us. I attacked a few of them, but then I realized my brothers are distracted from the fight. Now would be my chance to leave. And so, I did. I disappeared into the night as my lame bros kept on fighting.

End of P.O.V

Mikey jumped from rooftop to rooftop until he made it to (Y/N)'s apartment. He knocked onto the window, and she noticed him. She smiled as she opened it. He was out of breath like the other day. Mikey crawled inside, and got up immediately after. He looked at her and hugged her tightly. "I'm sorry if I was running late angel cakes....I had some family issues lately." she looked at him worried as he said that. "What happened?" Mikey took a deep breath and carried her bridal style. "I'll explain later. now . How about that dinner we had planned?" she nods, and off to the sewers they go! They finally made it within seconds since Mikey is lightning fast after all. He gently sets her down, and takes her to his room. "It didn't take me that long to set it up, but..." he revealed to her a small table with candles lit and flowers in a glass vase. "Oh mikey! It's lovely!" (Y/N) smiled wide at him, and he smiled back. "Glad you love it baby. Lemme go get our dinner." he runs to the kitchen, but nearly forgot that splinter was still in the lair. But asleep. So Mikey quietly ran to the kitchen, got the food, and quietly ran back to his room by the table. "Okay (Y/N). got the food. it's spaghetti!" The spaghetti itself was very tasty looking. (Y/N) took a small taste of it, and loved it. "I didn't know you could cook mikey!" he chuckles as he explains. "Well I have some talents that my brothers can't nearly pull off" (Y/N) giggled, and Mikey got up. "How about some music to set up the mood?" (Y/N) nods in agreement as Mikey takes out his boombox radio, and turns it on. When he turned it on though, instead of soft romantic smooth jazz, punk rock music blasted out of the speakers which made the poor guy jump. He presses the switch button lightning fast, but the station won't switch itself. Just then, he pressed the eject button, and the music abruptly stopped. He took out the CD, and he switched it to what he wanted. (Y/N) chuckled at him and shook her head as the soft sound of jazz filled the room. He blushes in embarrassment and giggles. "Sorry. I keep forgetting Raph always uses my boombox to hear his favorite music for his workouts at full blast." (Y/N) nodded in understanding and the two started eating. It was silent until Mikey spoke after swallowing his meal. "Um....yeah. About the family issue. My brothers and...my dad... they....they don't appreciate us being together because of all the danger involved" (Y/N) put her fork down, and looked at him sadly. "Mikey....who cares what they say. You're no longer a young child. You're fully grown." he sighs and looks at her. "If only I were human, none of this would be a thing." (Y/N) hugs him lovingly, and kisses his cheek. "Oh mikey. I know how worrying it is. But I don't care at all! I love you no matter what." he hugs her back and then smiles. "Thank you (Y/N). I'm glad you are in my life. Nothing will get between us." They both smiled at each other, and went back to eating. Just ask (Y/N) grabs a piece of noodle, Mikey grabs the other end and they slurp closer together, until they eventually kiss. (Y/N) giggled cutely, as Mikey chuckled himself. After eating ended, they sat down on the couch and just relaxed for a bit. The lair was very quiet. Not a single peep was heard. Mikey started to grow bored. So they decided to take a walk. As they headed out, it was snowing. Luckily, Mikey had a winter coat and hat on. They walked around in the silent peaceful city as the snowflakes glitter to the floor before them. They both held hands, and looked at each other with so much love. He takes her to the rooftops, and stares at the city with glowing street lights. "I had a great time Mikey. That was the best date ever." Mikey looks at (Y/N) and smiles. "You really think so?" she smiles back, and nods in response. They both kiss holding hands, until....his brothers are being heard from afar. "Where is that little no good twerp!? I swear if he's home, I'm gonna-" Leo interrupts him "enough Raph! But still. If he is with that girl, he is totally dead!" Mikey and (Y/N) gasp in shock, and he safely carries her to the ground. "can you get home safely? By yourself?" (Y/N) nods, kisses his cheek, and runs home waving goodbye as Mikey waves back and talks softly "See ya soon angel cakes." he rushes back to the lair, and manages to get there on time before his brothers do. He takes off his coat, mittens, and hat and lays onto his bed pretending to read comic books. His brothers came home, and Donnie called him. "Mikey! Could you come down for a second please? We need to talk to you!" He ignores them, and all three shouted. "NOW MIKEY!!" he sighs and goes to have a long chat with them. He doesn't care anyhow. As long as he's with (Y/N), he feels whole and wants to have a normal love life like all humans do. Despite that, he hopes nothing goes downhill anyway.

(Chapter 9 coming soon)

[dolls-self-ships]

you said THERE'S MORE! what else could you bless us with?? another visit? jon's breakout?? if he does break out, does he come see you??? is he as fond of you as you are of him????

(IM NOT THERE QUITE YET BUT WE DO GET SOME DORK SQUAD SHENANIGANS IN THIS PART)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

As I continue studying for psychology, I also make routine visits to Arkham to see Professor Crane, which he’s been greatly appreciating. It gets lonely in his cell often, however, it isnt long before I find out he’s been making friends of his own, whether its against his will or not.

"So, how have you been, Prof?" I ask Jon as we sit in the visiting room.

He sighs. "Oh, same as usual, my dear. No worse anyhow."

"Aw, well I’m glad to hear that." I reply

In the distance, I hear two unfamiliar voices approaching, pre-occupied with talking to each other, they must have been friends.

"Jervis, riddle me this." The first voice began, he had a cocky spring in his tone.

The second unfamiliar voice with what sounded like an English accent groaned. "Oh Edward, please not another one of your blasted riddles!"

The first unfamiliar voice spoke. "What’s tan and brown and comes from the ground? Can be cooked or fried or baked in a pie?"

The English man sighed. "A potato."

"Hm, too easy."

I notice Jonathan start to curl in, his chest caving and a grimace on his face. He grumbled out a small "Oh great."

He must’ve made eye-contact with the strangers, because the second he said that, the cocky voice from behind me said, "Ah! Jonathan! Who’s your friend there?"

I turn to see who it is, and approaching the table waving, is a tall pale man with slicked back red hair, confident posture and a seemingly permanent cocky smirk. Beside him was a shorter, portly man with blond floppy hair. He adorned a tall hat that was reminiscent of the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland. I thought it was odd, not the hat, but the fact that the asylum staff let him keep it on. Either that or he snuck it in. I turn back to my professor, who sighs at the interruption and gestures to me, still looking up at his peer.

Jonathan sighed, supposing that he couldnt just grab my hand and leave. "Edward, this is one of my students from Gotham Unversity. Cassandra this is Edward."

Edward smirks, saying, "Cassandra, could you do me a small favour?"

I’m a little taken aback, the first time I meet this man and he wants a favour from me. Though... it is an asylum, so I don’t question him.

"Um... sure?"

"Whats never seen but always heard? It’s not a whale and it’s not a bird. Not light nor dark nor sea nor sky, what am I ? What am I?"

I give it a hard think, but I cant seem to come up with an answer.

"I don’t believe I know that one. Is this how you greet everyone, or am I just lucky?"

Edward chuckled. "I believe you’re just lucky. And your inability to answer my riddle proves it’s a candidate to use against Batman."

I take a moment to put two and two together. Batmam? Riddles? General cocky and arrogant disposition?

I gasp in realization. "Hey, I know you! You’re the Riddler! I’ve seen you on tv a bunch of times! Granted those were all times that you were about to take over the city but I will admit that I have spent one or two nights staying up late trying to solve some of your riddles."

The red-head chuckles, clearly amused and flattered by this bit of info.

"Ah, I see I have you up late at night thinking about me. Yes, I often have that affect on women." He put hand proudly to his chest.

Jonathan grumbled through his hand. "The only affect you have on women is making them uncomforable."

Edward shoots him a glare, to which I laugh and intervene.

"Eheh, uh... flattering, Mr. Nygma, but really it was for studying purposes."

That’s when the man wearing the hat began to speak up, stepping forward and blocking Nygma from my view. "Excuse my colleague for being so brutishly overbearing, he doesn’t know what boundaries are."

Professor Crane smirked behind his hand. "You say that like you know what they are, Jervis."

He and Edward snickeres while Jerivs crossed his arms, offended.

"Cassandra, this is my other friend, Jervis Tetch. He used to be a neurologist at Wayne Enterprises."

Jervis, bowed with his hat held to his chest, a wide smile gracing he features upon being introduced. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my dear!"

I was a bit surprised by his gentlemanly facade. "Oh... the... pleasure is all mine! What a gentleman you are, Mr. Tetch."

Jervis stood, fixing his hat. "Ah, why thank you. A compliment from such a lovely lady is always most heart warming~"

Edward grinned at his friend. "What were you saying about boundaries earlier?"

Jervis pouted. "Hmph."

I giggled. "No no, it’s alright. I don’t mind it at all~"

This made a blush rise in Jervis's cheeks. "If you don’t mind me commenting, my dear, but... you look a lot more like an Alice than a Cassandra."

Jonathan, from behind me, smacked his forehead. "Oh great. Not this." He said as if this were a common thing of Jervis to ask. I however, was oblivious and answered honestly.

"Well... my mom almost named me Abigail, so I guess that’s close?"

Jervis beamed. "Ah! A woman of taste I see!"

Jonathan rolled his eyes, not sure how much of his comrades antics he could take today. "Oh good grief."

[quintalon]

In Vino Veritas

Hermione stepped into the smoky pub, the wind from the open door swirling her robes around her legs. A few heads turned her way but most remained bent over their tumblers and tankards. 

She spotted the reason she was called here, swaying as he made his way from the bar to a table along the back wall. He sat heavily in his chair, the legs squeaking across the stone floor. His normally perfectly coiffed hair was falling into his face and his robes were disheveled, one side having slid halfway down his arm. She nodded at Harry, who was seated beside him, and headed to the bar.

“A large glass of water, please.” She gestured over her shoulder towards her drunken friend. “For that one.”

The bartender nodded and smiled. “Ah, yes. That one. You’re the wife, eh?”

“Oh, no I’m—” Her denial fell on deaf ears as the man turned to help another customer further down the bar. Hermione shook her head and grabbed the glass of water, winding her way through the tables and crowd to her best friend and his Auror partner.

“Granger!” came the enthusiastic greeting when she reached them. A chair was shoved loudly from the table. “Sit here, Granger. Next to me.”

She chuckled. “Hello, Malfoy.” 

The blond wizard shook his head emphatically. “No, it’s Draco. Say it with me. Draaaacooooo.”

With her eyebrows raised high and lips pressed firmly together, Hermione made eye contact with Harry, both of them trying to contain their laughter. “Sorry, my mistake. Draco.”

Malfoy—Draco—grinned happily and nodded. “Very good! I’m Draco and you’re Granger—” he pointed to Harry, “and he’s Pottah.” 

Hermione giggled and Draco’s grin grew even wider. She heard him sigh and mumble, “You have the most adorable laugh.”

“Thank you,” she managed between chuckles. She slid the water over to him. “Here, this is for you.”

“You brought me a drink? You’re so kind. Isn’t she kind, Potter?”

Harry stood with a laugh. “Yes, very kind. Just one of the things I love about her.”

Draco hummed in agreement. “Me too, mate.”

“Thanks for coming, Hermione. Ginny’ll have my hide if I’m home late again this week. But Sir Drinksalot over here said he wouldn’t go home and I didn’t want to just leave him. Besides, he keeps asking if you’re coming tonight.”

“No problem, Harry.” Hermione leaned up as Harry bent to give her a kiss on the cheek. 

“Hey!” Draco leaned over and tried to push Harry away, but only managed to brush his sleeve. “No kissing Granger! Go home and kiss whats-her-face.”

Harry’s mouth stretched into a mischievous grin. “Oh, I am most definitely telling Ginny you called her that.”

Draco waved his hand dismissively. “Little Red doesn’t scare me. She’s no match for Granger, anyhow. And Granger would defend me, wouldn’t you?” She looked between the two men and shrugged. “I know you would because I’m your favorite. And you’re my favorite. My absolute favorite.”

“Malfoy, mate, you are going to regret some of the things you’re saying.” Harry teased. “And I’m going to remind you of every single one. Many, many times.”

With a snort, Draco shook his head. “No, I won’t.” He scooted his chair closer to Hermione. “Now go away, I want to talk to Granger.” When Harry didn’t immediately leave, he made shooing motions with both hands. “Go, go, go!”

“I’ll be alright with him, Harry. Give Ginny and James my love.” Hermione patted Draco’s shoulder to placate him and smiled reassuringly at Harry. 

“Right. See you two on Monday. Have fun and be good!” Harry turned and waved jauntily over his shoulder as he made his way out the door. Hermione watched him leave with a smile until she felt her hair being gently tugged. She turned to see Draco winding some of her hair around his finger and watching it bounce back, over and over.

“I love your hair. It’s so… springy.”

“Um, thank you?” She reached over and picked up the water again, putting it into his hand. “I think you should drink more of this.”

He smiled at her and without letting go of her hair, took a long sip. “Anything for you, Granger.”

“Why do you want me to call you Draco, but I’m still Granger?”

Draco set the glass down and leaned on the table, resting his head in one hand, the other still playing with her hair. “Because your name is special and beautiful. I haven’t earned the right to say it yet.”

Hermione tilted her head. “Why not? We’re friends now, aren’t we? I’d like you to call me Hermione.”

The hand in her hair stilled and he looked at her with wide eyes. “Really? Y-you want me to?”

She chuckled. “Of course. I think it’s time we took that next step, yeah?”

His grey eyes held hers, a sudden intensity to them that she had only noticed a few times before. Always when he thought she wasn’t looking. 

“Hermione…” He said her name on a sigh, like it was something precious, something to savor. Like the taste of it on his tongue was pure bliss. He leaned closer. “Hermione. So beautiful.”

With the way he was looking at her, Hermione had the stray thought that he was not just talking about her name. But he couldn’t… She had never allowed herself to hope that he might harbor similar feelings, resigned in the knowledge that her affections were one-sided. No, he was drunk and didn’t know what he was saying.

His hand left her hair and ran down her cheek to trace her jawline. She decided she would allow herself this moment and leaned into his hand, eyes closed. 

Loud, raucous laughter and shouting from a group of wizards barging in through the door caused both of them to startle, breaking the moment. Hermione swallowed and pushed her chair back. “Come on, Draco. I think it’s time to head home.”

She stood and helped him to his feet, keeping her arm around him as he wobbled. They made slow progress across the room, Draco leaning into her the whole way. She grabbed some Floo powder, calling out his address as she tossed it in. “Hold tight, Draco.”

He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face into her hair, pulling her flush against him. She heard him sigh in contentment just as they were whisked away. They tumbled out of the fireplace into the sitting room of Draco’s flat, nearly falling onto the sofa nearby. 

Despite their stumbling, Draco kept a tight hold on Hermione. She reached around her back and tried to gently pull his arms away, but he shook his head and hummed something she took as a no. 

“Draco, you need to let go so I can help you to your room,” she said soothingly. “Come on, now.”

He held on tighter and burrowed further into her curls. “Don’t want to let you go, Hermione. Never want to let you go.” His words muffled against her hair. “Mmm, you’re warm and comfy.”

She huffed a laugh. “You can keep one arm around me while we walk, okay?” She gingerly took a step, then another and breathed a sigh of relief when he followed suit, loosening his hold on her.

They made their way to his bedroom, where she pulled his robes the rest of the way off and managed to get him on the bed. He still refused to let go of her fully, keeping one arm looped around her waist as she bent to help him take off his shoes and socks. When she stood, he was looking at her with half closed eyes, a dreamy smile on his face. She suspected he was close to falling asleep. 

Placing both hands on his shoulders, she gently pushed him back onto the bed, his arm sliding from her waist to his side, and pulled the blankets up over him, tucking him in. She had debated helping him undress fully but pushed that thought out of her mind quickly before it wandered into other, more pleasurable reasons to help him disrobe. She was glad he was drunk enough to not notice her sudden and fierce blush.

Opening her bag, she pulled out a hangover potion and placed it on his nightstand, then summoned a glass and filled it with water. “You’re definitely going to need these in the morning.” She teased as he snuggled down into his pillows, blinking blurrily at her.

“Hi, Hermione.”

She bit her lip and grinned. “Hi, Draco.” 

He looked around with a slight frown and furrowed brow. “We’re in my bedroom.” He turned his glassy eyes to her. “Are you really here, Hermione?” She nodded. “You are so beautiful, did you know? And kind, and sweet, and bloody brilliant. I love everything about you. Your hair and your eyes and your little nose—it crinkles when you laugh and it’s so cute. You’re cute. Cute Hermione with her cute nose that I wanna—” He reached up and bopped her on her nose. 

“Oh Merlin,” Hermione laughed out. “You’re going to be mortified if you remember any of this tomorrow. You’re a terrible flirt when you’re drunk.” 

“I like flirting with you.” 

“Mmhmm,” she hummed as she caught his hand to keep him from poking her nose again. “You need to get some sleep now.” She squeezed his hand and laid it back against his chest. “Goodnight Draco.”

He yawned and closed his eyes, sleep quickly overtaking him. “G’night Hermione.” 

Unable to help herself, Hermione brushed the hair off his face and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. She froze as she straightened when she heard him murmur, “Love you.” 

She held her breath, waiting to see if he said more, but his breathing deepened and she knew he had fallen into a deep sleep. She crept quietly from the room with one last lingering look.

The next morning a letter arrived by owl, along with a beautiful red tulip. Hermione read the letter, her eyes growing wider with each word. She read it again, a shaky hand covering her mouth. Her eyes drifted to the tulip then back to the letter.

She let out an uncharacteristic yet delighted squeal and clutched the letter to her chest, falling back onto the sofa cushions and disrupting Crookshanks from his nap, his displeasure clear in his aggravated meow. She grinned at him and jumped up, sprinting to her room yelling that she had to get ready. The letter drifted to the floor in her excited departure.

My dearest Hermione,

First, I want to thank you for helping my sorry arse home last night and for leaving me that potion. It was definitely appreciated by my pounding head this morning. I apologize for my behavior last night. I don’t normally allow myself to get that sloshed and am slightly mortified by my actions.

But it is important you know this. I meant everything I said last night. Every word. Especially what I managed to mumble out when you kissed my forehead.

This was not how I planned to tell you my feelings. I had hoped it to be much more romantic than drunken ramblings. You deserve better. But, now that you are aware, I’d like to make my intentions clear. I care about you, deeply. My life is better and brighter with you in it.

I plan to woo you, Hermione. I plan to make you mine, as I am yours.

If you are amenable, I would like to take you to brunch today. I’ll be by at 11 o’clock to pick you up. I look forward to seeing you, my sweet witch.

Hopefully and Lovingly Yours,

Draco

Part of my drabble collection, Green Apples and Red Sugar Quills - AO3 l FFN

[metallic-roses]

When Pigs Fly

(It’s possible I messed up times a little bit, but not by more than half a year)

Warning: Dead bodies

I swing the gate shut behind me, trying to wipe some of the mud off of me. Working on an animal farm has never screamed cleanliness, especially in the days after a heavy rain, but something about recently has fueled my desire to remain mud free. Probably the absurdly pretty merchant boy, Phaja, who’s been visiting in town recently.

 A piglet from one of the more recent litters, Preston, comes skittering up to the gate, sticking his nose through the gaps. I look down at the enthusiastic young thing and shake my head, a small laugh escaping me.

I lean over the gate and pick him up. A lock of my matte white hair slips out of my ponytail and brushes against Preston’s stomach. The piglet squeals, seemingly amused, and wriggles around in my arms. I laugh again, scratching the top of his head and then firm footsteps coming up the hill pause the moment.

My eyes find up the tall, blue skinned, purple haired, muscled man. I’ve never met him before, but I’ve heard descriptions of him several times, passed his castle.

I’m hyperaware of the mud all over me as I hastily set Preston behind the gate and turn to half curtsy “Uh, hello Duke Jawbreaker.”

“You don’t need to curtsey,” The Duke says, his stance casual. Comfortable. I guess you never have to be intimidating when you’re as legendary as he is “What’s your name?”

I clear my throat, still trying to subtly wipe the mud off “My name is Zana Azucer.”

Duke Jawbreaker’s brow furrows “Do I know you from somewhere?”

I stick my hand in the back pocket of my pants “Maybe. My mom went into labor with me about half a day before the final battle had at your castle. She went to said castle for medical help and protection during the birth, and I was born right at the very end of it. You might’ve seen me around that time.”

Duke Jawbreaker taps his head “There you go. Things around battles I tend to remember.” His eyes fix on me and nervousness washes over me again “You’ll be coming up on your nineteenth Saints Day then.”

“Pretty soon,” I confirm.

“Congratulations.” Duke Jawbreaker says “Speaking of peaceful people and Saints Days, I’m here to get a pig for my son. I’m pretty sure he’d like that. He doesn’t like big or violent things.”

I nod slowly. We rarely sell our animals, rarer still just at the farm, but he’s Duke Jawbreaker. And I’m the youngest daughter of two Fructeran immigrants who own a farm.

“Um, sure. Great. Preston, come here,” I call back the piglet and lift him back into my arms. Duke Jawbreaker says nothing “This guy’s name is Preston. He’s the sweetest, friendliest thing you’ve ever met. And I think he’ll do well for outside the farm,” I tap Preston’s nose and he oinks “I think he wants to fly. And we can’t really do that for him here. Maybe your son can.”

.

(A year and a half later)

I wake up slowly in the morning.

The sheets are in a tangled mess on the bed and I glance over at my fiancee, who’s turned over in his sleep. His deep, dark brown hair has flopped over his slightly lighter brown skin. 

I reach over to Phaja and shake his awake. Phaja shifts onto his back, his eyes slowly open “Morning Zan,” He greets and I smile briefly before turning and stepping off the bed.

Phaja doesn’t move from his position “How are you so energetic so immediately? You’re already jumping about.”

I walk over to the dresser, taking a moment to reply. I rifle through the clothes I packed, trying to find what I want to wear.

When Phaja proposed to me, my parents offered to pay for a trip, like they had done for all of my older sisters when they had gotten married. Phaja and I chose to go to Comida, like my eldest sister, Carada, had chosen to. 

Granted, we didn’t expect the assassination attempt during the tournament yesterday, but Phaja and I still intend to head through with our plan this morning. Carada recommended a rooftop cafe for breakfast, a place that looks over Comida.

I glance back at Phaja as I pull out an outfit “Not all of us can be spoiled merchant boys you know,” I tease, grabbing clothing for him and tossing it onto the bed. After a moment, I grab one of his jackets and toss it alongside the other clothes.

“You’re awful to me,” Phaja replies, sitting up “I’m excited to see the view though,”

I nod my agreement, and we let the conversation fade into comfortable silence as we change and gather our things, then head down the stairs of the inn.

As we walk, we see banners of black, homes and shops closed as people mourn. The Emperor has died. And it’s most likely that our King, Amethar, will be chosen as his replacement, based on what Phaja’s father’s connections say. 

Phaja and I decide to continue anyhow. It’s been expected for weeks now, and we were both prepared for this.

We’re interrupted by a battalion of Bulbian soldiers in full armor rushing down the street, shouting orders in Vegetanian. Phaja grasps my hand and pulls me partially into an alleyway to avoid being trampled.

We watch them pass by, silent and motionless and every passing second I grip Phaja’s hand tighter. When they’ve finally gone, I turn to Phaja, letting go of his hand “What do you think that was?” I ask him “There’s no reason they would be in full battle gear, especially since the Emperor’s just died.”

“I don’t know,” Phaja replies as we step out of the alleyway. He glances around us, looking for some explanation “I think they came from the church.”

I take a few steps down the street. “Then lets go.” I tell him and after a few seconds, Phaja follows me down the street.

.

The first thing i see is the dead bodies of the Tart Guard.

I cover my mouth, stumbling into Phaja. He catches me by my shoulders and I feel him shudder as he takes in the bodies. The blood. His grip tightens on me as the door swings shut behind us, sending a loud clang through the room.

My breathing shallows. This was a slaughter. A slaughter of my king’s guard. A slaughter of some other Candian, their chocolate blood splattered on the floor.

My bag clatters to the floor. I head for the body at the opposite end of the church, trying to ignore the blood that sticks to my shoes. The lifeless, broken bodies.

I don’t hear Phaja’s steps behind me, but he calls “I don’t- I don’t think they’ll be gone for long, Zana. We have to get out of here fast.”

I don’t look back at him as I continue through the room. My footprints are made of blood, tracing my steps on the ground. “Okay.” I reply, but my voice is so quiet I’m not sure he heard.

I reach the curled, bloody, body on the ground and recognize two rabbit’s ears. It’s a chocolate rabbit. I don’t know who they are- he, if the beard is any telling. I reach over and turn the body.

A tear rolls down my cheek.

Because huddled beneath the dead chocolate bunny is Preston. That friendly, happy pig I sold to Duke Jawbreaker not even two years ago. His body is-

I don’t even want to think about what weapon did that to him. I don’t want to know if he was scared or upset or anything else. I don’t want to think about how he wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t sold him to Duke Jawbreaker.

Sorrow weighs me down, drags me into an ocean of confusion and anger over this atrocity. This injustice.

“Zana,” Phaja’s voice, while still echoing through the church, is gentle this time “Zan, they’ll be back. We have to go.”

I look, through my tears, over at her. The boy I fell in love with. The boy who loves me. I wonder if Preston had someone who loved him near when he died.

“We can’t leave them like this,” I say, my voice surprisingly clear.

Phaja’s eyes meet mine and it feels like he’s staring straight into my soul. After a second he nods briskly, “Alright. What should we do?”

We’re only there for a few minutes. Phaja and I spend the time closing the Candian’s eyes, puling the swords and arrows from their bodies, dragging them off of each other and laying them on their backs.

It wasn’t much. It didn’t feel like much. But it was all we could do.

I once told Joren Jawbreaker that I thought Preston would like to fly, and I gave that man Preston in particular because i hoped that whichever son Duke Jawbreaker gave him to, Preston’s new owner could get the pig closer to that dream.

I don’t know if Preston ever got what he wanted. But I can hope.

I can hope in the way that anyone can hope. I can dream the way Preston did.

My every hope and dream is dedicated to a better future. One where no one has to die like those people in the church did today. One where it’s not so ridiculous for pigs to fly.

[thefiresensei]

So I have a confession to make...

I originally asked the lovely @speedythecat if I could use her OC Rain Valentine for the Ninjago Valentine's Week Challenge way back at the start of February... and I've only just managed to get round to writing it! I'm really sorry Speedy, and I hope I've done your amazing OC justice and have kept to her character (if you haven't seen Rain you just must look her up, she's a stunning OC).

**Rain Valentine belongs to Speedythecat (in case you hadn't realised...)**

One Red Hot Mess

"You are so gonna lose this one, Walker." Kai slammed his fist down, rolling back his sleeve fiercely and bracing himself, holding onto the edge of the heavy stone workbench top with his free hand.

Jay chortled, eyebrows pinched together as he mirrored Kai, rolling up his own blue sleeve and grabbing a hold of the opposite side of the worktop.

"Oh, you think so, do you? Fire isn't the only thing that gets hot around here, you know?"

"Uh guys, I dunno if this is such a good idea…" Cole immediately quietened as the two elemental masters turned and frowned, shushing the earth elemental down.

"Okay. Well, don't say I didn't tell you so when you both manage to burn the monastery down. Again." Cole looked pointedly at the fire elemental, who rolled his eyes in response before turning his attention back to Jay, muttering under his breath one time, and they won't let me forget it…

"Not going to happen, Cole. We're miles beneath the actual building in here anyhow." Jay gestured around the old dragon stables cut into the stone of the mountainside, now converted into the ninjas' equivalent of a garage, complete with pieces of machinery scattered amongst various vehicles. "And trust me, I'm going to whoop Kai's butt before he can manage to create any havoc."

"Yeah, yeah. Quit stalling, blabbermouth, and show me whatcha got." Kai leaned in, his eyes narrowing but the flicker of amber plain to see within the dark irises. Jay grinned, matching Kai, his own blue eyes sparkling.

"Let's do this."

"Okay, well here goes nothing." Cole placed the two plugs of iron down in front of the pair, eyes appraising both. "So the winner is the one who manages to melt their own piece of iron first. No cheating, no touching the metal beyond what was agreed. You both ready?"

Kai gave a quick nod whilst Jay sniggered.

"Okay then, on the count of three. Three, two, one…go!"

The dimly lit cavern sparked into light as the two powers ignited, Kai's flames soon flickering and burning brightly as Jay quickly coiled wire around his iron rod then began striking it with his own lightning. Kai's eyes widened as Jay's rod within the makeshift coils gradually began to glow, the fire ninja blinking hard then refocusing his efforts on his own rod, the fire tendrils glowing white as they flickered and licked around the iron.

"What in this realm are you two doing?!" Rain's soft, puzzled voice made all three accomplices jump, causing Jay to shoot a sudden, stronger bolt of electricity through into his magnetised coil, sending it flying across the benchtop into Kai's now glowing one. The equally shocked fire elemental yelped and sent the two rods cascading into the back wall with a ball of white hot fire, the shelf it had barrelled into collapsing with an ear splitting, flaming cascade.

"Kai, you idiot!"

"What? That wasn't just me, Jay."

The two bundled over to the wall, Cole shaking his head as the two rallied over to the smoking mess.

"Well would you look at that." Jay snickered, pointing at the molten pile seeping around the makeshift coils he had created. "Looks like mine had melted… first!"

"Yeah, intertwined with mine, Blueboy. It probably hit mine which melted it in the first place. This proves nothing"

Cole gingerly prodded at the heap of metal and broken shelving on the floor with a hastily grabbed stick, hissing under his breath and jumping back as fresh smoke rose up, curling around them as a molten mass ran down the heap onto the stone floor. "Guys, what is that?"

"It'll just be the iron, Cole."

"Nope. That aint molten iron, it looks a bit like-"

"No!" All three scattered as Rain pushed the brothers out of the way, silver hair billowing behind her as she threw herself down on her knees, a hand shakily hovering over the molten mass.

"Umm, Rain?"

Rain ignored Jay, her head shaking in disbelief as she stared at the mess.

"My glass. My glass sculptures." Her voice was low, shaky as she blinked heavily, eyes not leaving the now cooling mess before them. The three looked to each other, eyes wide as they comprehended what had happened, Cole's mouth forming a silent "oh". Jay elbowed the red ninja, not taking his eyes from the crime scene.

"You are so for it, Kai." Kai stepped back indignantly, glaring at the blue ninja.

"Me? Why me? If I recall you were also-"

"What have you done?" Rain suddenly stood, fists curled as she straightened herself up. Cole marvelled as he noted her freckles appearing to stop still, freezing to attention.

"We're sorry Rain," Kai nudged Jay, who nodded quickly in agreement. "But I'm sure you can make some more-"

"They took me months! And the one I had been making for Lloyd!" She stopped, eyes blazing as she surveyed the molten mess before flicking back up and locking onto Kai's. "Why do you always have to be so, so…reckless!?"

As she screamed the last word the bare glass bulbs illuminating the dark corners of the cavern shattered, Cole and Jay ducking and lifting their arms against the flying, glinting shards.

Kai tilted his chin up, amber within his eyes flaring as he stared the Master of Glass down, folding his arms. "Now hold on. It was an accident, and not just my-"

"What in the name of my grandfather is going on in here? Rain?" Lloyd's entrance immediately defused the situation, Kai's shoulders heaving as he took a breath and stepped back, looking away. The green ninja tilted his head, perplexed. "Guys?"

Jay grabbed hold of Kai's arm, nudging the grumbling red ninja towards the nearest exit, Cole quickly side stepping alongside him. "It was an accident, Lloyd. Rain's sculptures got, err, melted. And we're, um, sorry." Jay shot Lloyd with an apologetic smile before ducking out of the exit, bundling Kai out with Cole's assistance, sending a last wary look to Rain. His expression melted as he saw the grief in her haunted eyes. "We really are sorry." And with a last shove and push the three exited, Cole's brash I told you so echoing through the silent garage.

Lloyd quickly stepped over to his girlfriend, wrapping her in his arms and running a gloved hand slowly through her silky hair. After a few moments he leaned back, cupping her cheek gently.

"This isn't the first time your sculptures have been broken by accident, but you seem really, really upset about it this time."

Rain bit her lip, looking down.

"You also kinda looked like you were going to give Kai a pasting there…"

She smiled lightly, slowly raising her eyes to Lloyds.

"He would have deserved it."

"Huh, no doubt." Lloyd gently pulled her chin up to him, planting a tender kiss against her lips. Rain smiled lightly, exhaling softly, not resisting as Lloyd pulled her over to the seats at the workbench in the centre of the room.

"So why so upset?"

Rain took a breath, shaking her head and averting her eyes, mumbling softly. "One of the sculptures… was a Valentines gift for you."

"Oh!" Lloyd's eyebrows rose, his eyes lighting up. "That, that was really sweet."

"Yeah and now you won't get to see it. Ever." Rain's voice was soft, no longer laced with anger but tinged with sadness.

"What was it?" Lloyd looked over at the shimmering mess in the corner, smoke tendrils now dying out amongst the molten iron and glass peppered with shards of wood.

"Your dragon."

"Sweet!"

Rain looked up shyly, her eyes seeking his. "You would have liked it?"

The green ninja practically bounced in his seat, red eyes glowing. "Are you kidding me? I would have loved it!" He paused, eyes looking inward and brows furrowing. Rain giggled, jabbing him in the ribs.

"Your thinking face does not suit you! What are you plotting?"

"Oh well thank you very much!" Lloyd leaned forward, taking her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over her soft skin.

"We should make it again."

Rain looked up, confused. "We?"

"Yeah. Both of us. You could show me how, we could work on it together." Rain held his gaze, taking in the bright red orbs, the cute little fangs protruding slightly as he grinned. "It will be awesome."

"But you can't work glass."

Lloyd shook his head, his smile wide and infectious. "But I'm the destined green ninja, I'm sure you can make use of some of my powers. Or at the very least I can get you drinks, and maybe a piece of candy or two whilst you work on it."

Rain smiled, taking his face in her hands and planting a firm kiss on his mouth. "You sure? I mean, it can't really be your Valentine's gift now, now that you know about it."

"Are you for real? It'll be an even better gift!"

Rain tilted her head, eyes questioning. Lloyd shook his head again, blond hair flopping across his forehead as he grasped her waist and pulled her towards him, hugging her tightly before tucking stray silver hair behind her ear and whispering into it softly.

"Because we'll have made it together. So it'll be perfect."

[creativewritingpracticestudio]

Sirens(Onesided!Lip Gallagher x Reader)(Season 1)

This takes place during season 1.

Trigger warnings: Underage drinking, alcoholism,implied violence/physical abuse, slight mentions of sexual assault.

Pairings: onesided Lip x reader, platonic Ian x reader, mentions of Ian x Mickey, Ian x Kash, and Lip x Karen

Enjoy. Feel free to send requests. Please like and reblog.

Your lips curled into a grimace as you pressed the cigarette to your lips. God, these things are fucking disgusting. How the fuck do the Gallagher’s do this shit? You thought to yourself as you spat onto the grass, trying to clean out the flavor. You weren’t completely sure why you smoked. After all, you hated cigarettes. They made your mouth taste bad and they made you feel shitty. But, of course, that wasn’t true; you knew why you smoked them. Cuz Lip does. That was your reasoning for almost every bad habit you had. Everything you did revolved around that big-nosed son of a bitch. He hadn’t spoken to you in months and yet he was still there.

Your depressing thoughts were interrupted by a familiar sound; sirens. The blue and red lights flashed across your fave as an ambulance drove past you. Someone was hurt, badly. You liked sirens. They felt familiar. Comforting. In a dark way, they reminded you that things could be worse; you could be in an ambulance right now, crying and bleeding and in pain instead of in front of the grocery store that Ian worked at, smoking and freezing your ass off. Of course, you being there was your fault. You need alcohol and you needed it bad. You could have chosen to stay in your warm house and steal beer from your father, but then you would have risked being beaten had you been caught. You’d stick with the fake ID approach, thank you.

After another puff, you decided to stop stalling-the cigarette smoke was getting to you. You dropped the cigarette, crushed it under your shoe, and jogged across the street to Kash’s store. When you walked in, Ian’s voice called to you from behind the chip rack-“(Y/n)! Hey!” A smile spread over your face as he walked towards you. “Hey, Ian.” Ian was the only Gallagher who you still talked to after Lip stopped hanging out with you. Most likely because you were one of the only people who knew he was gay and who treated him like normal regardless. Of course, you’d found out his secret long before anyone else had, even Lip.

You and Ian had been friends longer than you and Lip had, and you had been Ian’s first girlfriend when he was in 6th and you were in 7th. You held hands and shared cookies and watched movies at his house while his mom and dad screamed at each other and then watched them as they went upstairs to have sex. A year later, when he was in 7th and you were in 8th, while in your secret spot(the swings behind your house), you asked him why he didn’t want to kiss you like the other boys kissed their girlfriends.

After a silent moment, Ian had admitted that he had thought about kissing another boy in your class, and not you. That he couldn’t imagine kissing a girl. And, after stunned silence, you had hugged him and stroked his hair while he cried and begged you not to tell anyone. After that, you and Ian broke up, pretending it was due to lame couple shit when in reality you didn’t want people asking why you and him didn’t kiss or fuck or do anything everyone else did. He was still your closest friend.

“So, what the hell are you doing here? It’s late. You usually pass out by 8.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “None of your business, dweeb.” You ruffled his hair and walked over to the beer aisle, scanning the various bottles on the shelves, looking for a 12 pack of the strongest beer available. “Um, okay? Since when do you drink?” Ian followed you over and crossed his arms. “Since I decided that sprite just wasn’t cutting it. What’s the strongest kind you got?” Ian stared at you for a moment, seeming to notice that something wasn’t right with you, but eventually averted his eyes and pointed to a particular beer. “That one.”

You grinned at him. “Thanks, babes.” You plucked the box of beer from the aisle and store over to the register. “Where’s Kash at, anyhow? Did you give him bad dick or something?” Ian grimaced. “Linda’s fertile right now.” “Ah. Say no more.” You nodded empathetically and let the ginger boy ring up your box before sliding him a $50. He spoke as he kept his eyes on the register. “Me and Mickey are still going on.” You raised a brow. “Ooo. Interesting. I should go for Mandy so we match.” He laughed and started to hand you the remaining money. “Keep the change, hun. Fiona and you guys probably needs it more than me, aye?”

He smiled half-heartedly. “That’s for sure. So, whats the beer for?” You blinked. “Uh, to drink?” He rolled his eyes. “You know what i mean.” “Nothing, Ian. Just need a stress reliever. That’s all.” “If you say so. Just, please, don’t pull a Frank on me. I know Lip’s being an ass but I can’t lose you. Who else will supply me with gay porn mags?” You grinned at him. “Aw. Glad I’m needed. And don’t ever compare me to that bastard. I love you, Ian. Give Lip a throat punch for me.” He smiled. “Sure thing. I love you too. Come by the house sometime and I’ll tell you about Mickey a little more, yeah? Lip will probably be out screwing Karen.” You nodded. “I will. Night, Ian.” And with that, you waved goodbye and started on your way home.

The next day, you woke up to someone pounding on your front door. Groaning, you started to sit up and then grabbed your head in pain as a glass bottle rolled off the bed and smashed on the floor. Shit. How much had you had to drink last night? You checked the floor. 7 bottles. Out of 12. Holy. Fucking. Shit. The pounding on the door resumed, and your head started pounding with it. You winced, swallowed down some Tylenol, and went for the door. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Hold your fucking horses, god damn it.” You swung the door open. “Hey, (Y/n). Been a while.”

You blinked. “What the hell are you doing here, Lip? Where’s that blonde bitch at? Screwing one of your friends or something?” “Karen’s not hanging out with me til later.” “Ah.” The two of you stared at each other in silence. “So, what the fuck do you want then?” Lip shuffled awkwardly for a second and then shoved his hands in his pockets. “Ian said you bought some beer yesterday.” You glared. “That little shit. Why the fuck would he tell you that?” “I asked him where he got the $40 from. He didn’t want to tell me but I forced it out. What was the beer for? Your dad? He doesn’t need anymore of that shit you know, he’s turning out like Frank-“ “Don’t ever compare my Dad to yours. Ever. Your dads a lazy drunk-ass fuck who couldn’t give a shit less about his kids. Mine just likes to beat me the shit outta me sometimes. It’s different. Don’t lecture me.”

Now Lip looked suspicious. “Then what was it for?” “Why do you care?” “Cuz I know you. Last time you drank beer, you overdid it and almost got fucking alcohol poisoning. You can’t handle beer.” “Yes I can. Don’t tell me what to do. And actually, I drank like 7 last night. Cuz I’m not your child. And I can do whatever the hell I want. Stop acting like a fucking Dad, you drink too.” “But I don’t over drink. I’m not like Frank. You are. You can’t handle it. Just because you’re jealous about Karen doesn’t mean you should cope with alcohol-“ “Oh my god, shut the fuck up, you narcissistic asshole! Shut up! I’m not fucking jealous of your whore! I’ll drink if I want and fuck if I want and smoke if I want and I don’t need your permission! You made your choice. You picked Karen. Leave, now! I’m coming by later to hang with Ian, so you and the whore better not be there. You’re lucky my dad left for work or he’d have kicked your ass for knocking so loud. Fuck you. Have a nice day.” And you shut the door in his face before he could reply.

Your face was now red from anger. Your hands shaking, you went upstairs, threw up in the bathroom, took some more Tylenol and then curled up on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Fuck him. God, he was so condescending. That was the first time he’d talked to you in a couple of months and it was to scold you like a child for drinking. He drank too. He did all of this shit too. He had done that shit with you so many times you couldn’t even count. What was his problem? Your lip quivered as you felt tears forming. You thought about how close the two of you used to be.

Swinging together behind your house, sneaking into each other’s rooms to cuddle and talk about your shitty lives, watching the stars and whispering to each other, sneaking into movies, shoplifting candy bars and fizzy drinks to eat as you sat in his car to watch the sunrise or the sunset. He was your best friend and your first love and your rock and he was everything. All you had besides Ian, except Ian didn’t kiss you or hold your hand like Lip did. Lip was a boyfriend without the commitment, a lover without the title. And you adored him. It had been this way for 2 years, since you were 14 and he was 15. And then, 3 months ago, just a month before he abandoned you, it all came to a peak. The most amazing moment of your life.

The two of you had snuck out at 3 in the morning on a warm, starry night, each armed with snacks and a flashlight, along with blankets and pillows. You met underneath the train tracks, and laid out the pillows and blankets into a small makeshift bed. Lip pulled you down onto the pallet, hugging you close and pulled the blanket over you, and you laid in his arms and watched the trains go by. During a quiet moment, he whispered that you were beautiful, and kissed you, and, after a few moments, you let him make love to you right there under the tracks as trains went by. He took your virginity and then held you as you fell asleep, stroking your hair and whispering to you as you dozed.

You started crying. It had been only 3 months ago. 3 months. And now things were so different. That had been the only time you had sex, but it was still fresh in your mind. You had been so sure that he would ask you out afterwards, but he never did. And it had stung a little. But you put up with it because you liked him. And then, a month later, he met Karen. He bragged to you about the hummer she gave him, and then had Ian go to get one too, even though Ian was gay. He started dropping plans to hang with Karen, and talked about how great of a fuck she was when he did make time for you, and eventually stopped coming to hang all together. And it hurt so fucking bad. Why weren’t you good enough? You lay on your bed, curled up in the fetal position, and cried. Just laid there and sobbed until your eyes were tired and your throat was sore.

You passed out for about 2 hours, woke up. showered off, changed clothes and went to go meet with Ian. Fiona opened the door, hugged you, and asked how you had been. After you caught up for a minute, you asked where Ian was and went up to his room. Sure enough, he was sprawled out on his bed with a magazine in his hand, which he tossed aside when he saw you. “H-hey. Listen, sorry I told Lip but he kept asking where I got the money and I’m not a great lier and-“ “it’s okay, dude, chill! All he did was try to lecture me anyway. Who does that little bitch think he is, telling me what to do? Screw him.” Ian grimaced. “He’s just worried. You used to have to be convinced to even take a sip of something and now you’re out buying 12-packs for yourself. He just doesn’t want you to turn out like-“ “Like Frank. I know, I know. But it’s none of his concern. He left me. He should focus on his bimbo and leave me alone.”

The conversation ended. You sat with Ian and ate cookies as he talked about Mickey and how he was going to Mandy’s to see him more often. Mandy had no qualms with kissing a gay man, so her and Ian were fake dating to have a beard for Ian. You made a sexual joke about taking it up the ass, and Ian laughed and shoved your arm. After a minute of silence when the laughter died down, Ian spoke up. “He misses you, you know.” “Mickey?” “No. Lip. He mentioned you a couple days ago.” Your heart dropped. “What’d he say?” “He said he took Karen to the train tracks like him and you used to do, and it wasn’t as fun. Just said he missed you. Oh, and yesterday Fiona said she missed your pot roast you used to make us on Friday’s and Lip said he did too, so that counts I guess.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll make you guys pot roast still. Just won’t eat with you guys.” Ian rolled over into his back and then sat up. “(Y/n). You and Lip need to sort this shit out. I miss you. Everyone misses you. He’s a dickhead and I know that and everyone else knows it. But you need to call him out for it. Make him apologize. Debbie and Carl and Fiona and I miss you a lot. And I’m sure Lip does too even if he acts like he doesn’t think about you. You were different than Karen. You were his best friend. Karen’s just a fuck buddy who he hangs out with sometimes. I’m not saying you should try to go out with him, you could fuck any guy you want really. But just talk it out. Please?”

You stared at the ground for a long minute. You thought it over. As bitter as you were, Ian was right. And you missed being with the Gallagher family. After a moment, you sighed, and relented. “Okay. I’ll confront him. But only for you and Fiona and them. Okay? Now shut up about it.” Ian half smiled and slung an arm around your shoulder. “Thank you. Good luck, yeah? He’ll be home in a few minutes, confront him then.” You agreed, and then the two of you listened to a CD as you waited for Lip to get home.

When the bedroom door swung open, you didn’t dare look. But you didn’t have to anyway. “(Y/n)?” You didn’t look up. Ian looked from you to Lip awkwardly and got up. “I have to go...Uh...do homework. Yeah.” He left the room, and neither you nor Lip moved. “What are you doing here?” You couldn’t answer. You just looked at the ground. “(Y/n), look. I get that you’re upset at me. But you need to let it go. You and I never dated. You’re being jealous over nothing. I’ll try to hang out with you more but you and I were just friends and I don’t know why you thought it was more than that.” Your head snapped up. “What the fuck did you just say?” Lip, sensing he had said the wrong thing, went silent. You slowly stood up.

“You don’t know why I thought it was more than that? Are you fucking serious? Do you actually not get it? Are you that fucking stupid?” Lip said nothing, and you stepped closer, voice rising. “I thought we were more because you acted like we were! You held my fucking hand and kissed me and told me I was beautiful and literally put your fucking dick inside me under the train you took that Karen bitch to! You took my fucking virginity! Of course I thought we were more! I was always there for you! Always! I listened to every single problem and massaged your shoulders when they tensed up and snuck around with you and risked being beaten for you! I was a part of this family! I helped out Fiona and played with Debbie and Carl and punched Frank when he hurt Ian and i loved your family so much and I was always there! And then you tossed me aside like I was a piece of garbage the second that Karen blew you!”

Lip looked remorseful. “(Y/n), I-“ “No! Shut up! It’s my turn to speak. I’m glad I didn’t try to ask what we were a few months ago, cuz I know exactly what you would have said.” Your voice took on a mocking tone as you continued. “You would have said that you liked me, really you did, but you just weren’t ready for a big experience like commitment! And you’d apologize condescendingly for leading me on like that. But you still would be down to fuck because of course you would! Cuz you’re Lip fucking Gallagher and you screw whoever you want, right? That’s all you’re in it for, right? Fuck you! Fuck you so fucking much! You lead me on and then kicked me aside for someone who’d be more open to fuck whenever you wanted, right? Screw you!”

Lip went to speak, but you had one more thing to say. “And by the way, Lip, I’m not letting your dickhead-ness stop me from hanging out with your family. I miss Ian and Fiona and Debbie and Carl. So I’ll still be here. For dinners and babysitting and for Ian. But you won’t be talking to me. Or sitting with me. Or even looking at me. You will leave me alone and let me be at peace without trying to toy with me again. I’m sick and tired of your shit. Be with your whore and leave me alone.” You turned to leave. “(Y/n).” You turned back to look at him. “Yeah?” “I’m sorry.” That was all he said. And it was all he needed to say. His eyes said it all. You nodded. “I know. Goodbye, Lip.” And with that, you turned and walked out of the room, and didn’t look back.

Remember to make requests. This was just an emotional piece, a vent piece. I take requests for one shots, headcanons, imagines, anything. Mostly x reader only, but I do angst fics exploring unrequited love and stuff like that. Like and reblog and send criticism!

[randomfandomimagine]

That Flirt In The Red Dress (Leon x Reader)

Characters: Leon Kennedy, Ada Wong

Fandom: Resident Evil 2 Remake

Tags: Reader Insert, Female Reader, Jealousy

Warnings: None

Requested by anon: Since you're open to take request :D Please can I request one for Leon Kennedy, where the s/o gets really jealous of Leon and Ada's relationship. She could be really sarcastic or snarky whenever Leon asks what's wrong. Thank you so much ❤ And I hope you have a lovely day.

You held tightly to Leon’s hand as you both ran, escaping the crazed zombies that threatened your life. Your heart thumped against your chest, your hand was getting sweaty against Leon’s palm, your breath came in rapid gasps and the adrenaline seemed to be making your pulse throb in your temples.

“Dammit!” Leon shouted when he came to a halt. You ran into a dead end.

“Crap!” You exclaimed too, taking out your gun to at least die fighting.

“Y/N, behind me!” Your boyfriend ordered, taking out his gun too.

You reluctantly obeyed, knowing it was no time for arguments, and began firing at the zombies that were closing in. The loud sound of the bullets broke the silence only interrupted by their horrible grunting, and the violent brightness of the fire illuminated the dark area.

Cursing under your breath when you ran out of bullets, you held on to Leon’s shoulder and watched the zombies that were now mere meters from you. Your boyfriend glanced at you with the corner of his eye, but focused his attention on eliminating the threat.

“Do you have any more ammo?” You asked him, realizing there were too many and your weapons weren’t too effective.

“No” He quickly replied, just as his gun clicked, forcing him to save it and pick up a knife instead. “Son of a bitch”

You couldn’t deny that you were scared, that it looked like the end. You were trapped and surrounded by zombies, left with no ammo and no way to defend yourself. Your mind worked quickly, trying to think of an escape plan. Maybe you could run through them and make it out alive, although wounded.

“What do we do?” You asked Leon, not really wanting to let him know how scared you were, even if your shaky voice betrayed you.

“I don’t know” With his free hand, he held yours. “We fight, I guess”

You took a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself. That was it, the moment of truth. At least you were with Leon. Still, you felt the need to tell him a few last things. Remind him you loved him, even if he had heard it a thousand times and he knew already.

“Leon, I…” To your surprise, he had turned to you too, hanging his mouth open as he was about to speak.

Before any of you could say anything, however, a loud blast interrupted you. The dark room was suddenly enveloped in a very bright oranguish light that accompanied by deafening noise and the sound of the agonizing zombies.

Leon moved on an instinct and wrapped his arms around you, shielding you with his body. You yelped against his ear when the explosion went off, clutching to him and shielding yourself in his embrace.

When the silence came, you paused for a moment as if to make sure you were safe. Leon was breathing heavily as he slowly let go of you and looked over his shoulder to analyze the situation. You grew tense when he sharply moved around, facing his back to you and wielding his gun. It was empty, but whoever was there didn’t know that.

“Calm down, Leon” Came a female voice. “It’s just me”

“Ada?” He sighed in relief and immediately lowered his weapon. “Was that you?”

“Of course” The woman approached, wearing a red dress which was a little revealing.

“Thanks” He muttered, and you almost felt like he had suddenly forgotten you were there with him.

You cleared your throat to make yourself present in their conversation and to remind your boyfriend of your existence. He looked to you in surprise, almost like he didn’t know why you were suddenly so grumpy.

“Um…” You stepped forward, placing yourself between Ada and Leon. You had definitely heard of her, but didn’t tell her that. “Thanks for saving us and all that, but who the hell are you?”

“Ada Wong” She coolly replied, holding a hand out for you to shake. You didn’t.

“I’m Y/N” You analyzed her expression, wondering if he had told her about you. Her expression was unreadable.

“You’re welcome” Was all she said in response.

You stared at each other for a moment, even if her dark eyes drifted to Leon behind you for a moment. Then she calmly shifted her weight from one foot to another and shrugged casually.

“Anyway, I gotta go” Ada walked past you and closer to Leon. “See you soon”

Maybe she didn’t know you were together, or maybe she did but didn’t care. Anyhow, she kissed Leon in the cheek, although dangerously close to his lips, and held his chin after that and to give it a flirtatious squeeze. It could have been an innocent and fond gesture, but coming from her was somehow flirtatious and slightly sensual.

You noticed how Leon’s blue eyes followed her as she swaggered away. It was almost like she was provoking him, and he was definitely falling for it.

“Hey, boyfriend” You nudged him, bringing his attention back to you. “So that was the famous Ada?”

“Yeah” You shone the flashlight in his eyes, causing him to look away for a moment not to get blinded by it. His cheeks were a faint tone of pink. “I told you about her”

“You did, kinda” Without waiting for him, you began walking away. His footsteps immediately followed. “Wasn’t how I imagined her to be, though”

“Where are you going?”

“I dunno”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Getting away from here”

“Y/N” Leon sweetly took your hand in his, stopping you from walking any further. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing” You huffed in outrage, hating to feel like that yet being unable to stop it. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon” He remained calm as he gently turned you around to face him. “I know something’s up”

“And you don’t know what?” You dedicated him a sarcastic grin.

“N-No…” You wondered if he really was that oblivious or if he was playing dumb.

“Then why don’t you ask that flirt in the red dress?” You rolled your eyes at him, trying to keep on walking.

“Ada?” Even the way he said her name bothered you. “Y/N, wait…”

“What?” He tugged at your hand, keeping you in place.

“Are you… jealous?” Leon sounded astonished and maybe even a little bit amused, which only angered you more.

“Me? No” You sarcastically said, rolling your eyes again. “Just because you didn’t tell me how gorgeous she is or the fact that she goes kissing you as she pleases, even in front of me”

“Y/N…” There was a small smile on his lips, which made your blood boil. You wouldn’t have expected that from him.

“Oh, also, I’m not sure if you told her we’re together or not, but either way she’s awful”

“Okay” His hand firmly fell on your hip, bringing you closer to him until your fronts touched. “I’ll admit, Ada is a bit forward but…”

“Not that you tried to stop her” You averted your gaze, feeling tears of sadness and frustration.

“Y/N…” His voice was soft as velvet as he gingerly curled up his finger under your chin, making you look at him. “She’s not you”

You frowned, watching him closely and waiting for him to say something else. Luckily he did, because you didn’t want to speak yourself and let him know of the shakiness in your voice.

“It’s complicated, with me and Ada” He sighed, even if his eyes were locked with yours in a way that made you want to melt. “But she’s not you, that kiss didn’t mean anything to me”

“You promise?” You hated to think that there was something between them.

“I promise” Leon paused to kiss your forehead, so lovingly that it forced a dreamy sigh out of you. “I have eyes only for you”