#tros imagine

[shelbgrey]

Imagine being adopted into the Weasley family and they are all over protective.

Potter MasterList

You welcomed into the family when Bill and Author found you on the side of the road.

You were about 6 or 7 and Bill didn't want to leave you so he convinced his father to take you home so you could eat

You were scared and stuck next to Bill most of the time.

Molly immediately grew a soft spot for you and let you stay the night.

One night turned to a week, week turned to months, and soon enough the Weasley's were fighting to adopt you

With author working at the ministry he pulled a few strings and soon enough they gained custody of you.

You and Ron are exactly the same age so you both grew close to each other.

You and the twins were the closests and they grew very protective of you. To the point they only got angry if you were being messed with.

Bill stayed your favorite(you'd never admit though) because he's the one that technically saved from the street.

Charlie didn't get meet you till later on but he quickly grew a soft spot for you and even got you a dragon plushie

Percy very much cares about you but he doesn't show it all the time. Just know he loves you

Ginny is your sidekick. She can be protective of you because you already do it for her.

You started hogwarts the same year as Ron and thats when the over protectiveness got annoying. You couldn't get away from Ron and the twins did it from a far

You got sorted into Gryffindor like the Weasleys before you so there was no getting away from it.

In your second year you joined the quidditch team and became a chaser. During those games Fred and George never left your side(this is one of the times you were thankful).

In third year you befriend Draco to much of your Familys dismay.

George and Fred put the fear of God in him and Ron felt betrayed.

Fred and George did look past the friendship but that's mostly because they both knew you liked Draco.

George and Fred were the only two you actually admitted to that you liked Draco.

The twins excepted it and let you go to the ball with Draco after he asked.

In fith year Draco worked harder to make amendeds with your family. Ron still hated him but the twins and Ginny made an effort of making friends.

If your wondering about Percy well he could careless about it all. He dose care about you and two get along very well he just knows you can take care of yourself.

When Bill found out about you and Draco the man indeed sent a howler to Draco threatening him.

Sixth year was bad. Draco started pushing you away and eventually he broke up with you.

The twins had lefted by then so Ron had to comfort you through it all.

“I thought he loved me“

During seventh year you went with Ron and the other two.

It was bad the amulet effected Ron the most and he said awful things he didn't mean.

During the battle of hogwarts you stayed with the twins. They were the two you felt safest with.

“you okay Fred? Y/n?”

“I'm scared Georgie”

The one thing you never expected was a big explosion and Fred sheiled you.

You held him in your arms and cried. “I won't let you died”

Fred's death hit you and George the hardest. In the great hall you and George never left his side

Draco then came over and sat down with your Family holding your hand.

After the battle you held George at the shop. You ended up there for a couple of years and even Draco help around trying to make amendeds.

At yours and Draco's wedding George walked you down the aisle.

You had twins. One girl and one boy. The boy was scorpius and your girl was Nicknamed Freddie.

You never felt more lucky in your life. You'd probably be dead if the the red-head family didn't take you in.

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

More Precious Than Rubies: Part 5a

This is an alternate timeline story that has a Rafael Barba track and a Sonny Carisi track. The two paths split off in part 3.

WC: 5223

TW: Idiots in love; smut (drinking but not impaired; PiV, unprotected). 18+ only.

AN: The prompt was "How about you make me?"

If Barba had been irritated by how much space you were taking up in his head before, he was doubly maddened now.  You weren’t just taking up space at this point – you were moved in and living rent free.

Your case load with SVU waxed and waned.  Sometimes you had a whole slate of cases against him, and other times he went for stretches without facing off against you.  Still, he saw you all the time at the courthouse, and you were usually arguing with some other ADA.  Barba usually felt a sting of jealousy when he did.  He wondered if you called Niles “Yale Law” or if you smirked at Cox.

He was still nettled by your comment about O’Dwyer being a better ADA than him, even if he was mostly certain that you were just teasing him.

At least you shook his hand after trials now.  He had hated it when you’d pointedly ignore him, but it was his own fault for taking a shot at your age by calling you “Girl Wonder.”  He knew how hard it could be to be a lawyer fresh off the bar exam, and he assumed it was twice as hard for a baby-faced young woman.

You didn’t seem to mind being called “Fordham Law,” and you always responded with a grin and rejoinder of calling him “Harvard Law.”  And you never said it with a sneer – usually, Barba’s opponents used his Ivy League education against him, implying that he was some sort of out-of-touch elite.

----

The New York City Law Association was holding its annual charity event.  Barba could think of a million things he’d rather do on a Saturday night other than socialize with other lawyers, but networking was part of his unofficial job duties, and McCoy made it clear that he expected all of his ADAs to attend.  Barba put on his tuxedo and got a taxi to Brooklyn.

The only thing that the NYCLA had going for it was its commitment to out-of-the-way and unique venues.  The District Attorney’s office stuck with the usual hotel ballrooms for their events, but the NYCLA always found some new place.  This year was the New York Transit Museum.

He made his way to the bar and snagged a scotch, then made a quick sweep of the room.  He saw some familiar faces but no one he wanted to talk to, so he wandered off to look at some of the exhibits.

There were people milling around and looking at the offerings – the old subway cars, the old maps and photos of the subway construction.  Then Barba saw you.  You were in a deep oxblood cocktail dress, so dark is was almost black, and your hair was down and loose.  You had your back to him, but (he was ashamed to admit), he’d know your ass anywhere.

He strolled over and pretended to look at the same exhibit that you were engrossed by – old fare boxes through the years.  You turned and looked at him, and smiled when you recognized him.

“Barba,” you said, and you looked him over.  “You clean up nice.  A far cry from your usual off-the-rack sackcloth.”

“Counselor,” he replied.  “I’m surprised to see you here.  Shouldn’t you be off visiting some serial masturbating client in prison?”

You pouted at this, and Barba tried to ignore how kissable you looked in your deep red lipstick.  “My serial masturbating client isn’t in prison, Barba.  Remember?  I won him a ‘not guilty’ verdict, from you, if I recall correctly.”

“One of your rare victories.”

You took a sip of your drink; it looked like cola and something, in a rock glass with a twist of lime.  “Ah, but those rare victories against you are so sweet.  The sound of you grinding your teeth when I win…it sustains me through the lean times.”

Barba scoffed.  “I don’t grind my teeth.  Besides, get ready for another lean period.  The Alexi case…I’ll have a guilty verdict within an hour of the jury retiring.”

You polished off your drink and turned to walk to the bar, and Barba followed.  “We’ll see,” you said as you strolled beside him.  “I think Judge Catalano will have some thoughts about the integrity of the lab once I talk with him.”

At the bar, you made eye contact with a bartender and tapped on your glass, and the woman nodded at you in understanding.  You turned to face Barba, leaning back against the bar.  “We all know that the medical examiner’s office is compromised after the Rudnick disaster.”

Barba groaned.  “Oh, don’t start with that.”  He reached across the bar to hand you your drink, and you both settled at a nearby table.  “You know damned well that Rudnick was an anomaly…”

“How can I know that?  How can anyone?  Any single case he oversaw could be compromised…”

“…but you know that’s not the case….”

“All I know is that a crucial link in the chain of custody was being overseen by an actual serial killer, Barba, and…”

He sat his scotch down specifically so that he could throw up his hands.  “You’re impossible!  You’ll only be happy when the prisons are empty and every bad guy in the world is released with a hug and an apology!”

This made you burst into a gale of laughter, so loud and unexpected that you placed a hand over your mouth.  He watched you laugh for a long moment, smiling a bit at the sight of it.  Once you calmed down, your laughs trailed to the occasional hiccupped giggle, you took a deep swallow of your drink and grinned.  “That’s what you think of me, Harvard Law?”

He polished off his own scotch and flagged down a wandering server to order another.  “I think you’ve got a good head for law and a soft heart.  I think the world hasn’t worn you down yet, but in public defense, it seems inevitable.”

Your wide grin faltered a bit, but before you could refute his claim, two women made their way over to your table, waving and calling you.  You looked over at them and your smile returned.

“Who let you in?” you teased.  “This exclusive organization has clearly lowered its standards.”

The taller woman scoffed and leaned in to hug you, but the shorter red-head looked hard at Barba before turning to hug you too. 

“Barba, these are my friends from Fordham,” you introduced.  “Chauncy and Sarah.  Guys, this is ADA Rafael Barba.”

There was a flurry of handshakes, and Chauncy’s seemed especially firm.  “You handled the Jackie Walker disaster,” she said.  Barba winced to remember the flubbed case against the innocent man, and the red-head saw his discomfort.  “Don’t sweat it,” she continued.  “I’m representing his civil case against the NYPD.  I’ll get him a nice payday to soothe the fact that his career and reputation was destroyed.”

The tall woman laid a gentle hand on Chauncy.  “Play nice,” she warned.

You had just watched the interaction, then offered to go get drinks for everyone.  Before anyone could object, you were off to the bar, and the remaining three exchanged wary looks.

You returned laden down with an armful of glasses and a wide grin that he recognized.  “Open bar, guys,” you said.   You plunked down another scotch for Barba and then everyone else’s drinks.  “Drink up.  I got shots.”  He watched you place an electric pink shot glass in front of everyone, him included.

Sarah laughed at you.  “What’s this shot called?” she asked.

You shook your head at her.  “You know what it is.”

“Say it.”  Sarah said.  She and Chauncy started chanting “say it, say it” until you were ducking your head in embarrassment.

Chauncy looked at Barba and explained it to him:  “She tried to order a certain drink when she turned twenty-one and we took her out to celebrate.”

“It’s the only alcoholic drink she knew,” Sarah added.

“But she was too embarrassed to say ‘sex,’ so she called it ‘Love on the Beach,’” Chauncy finished.

“And these jackals picked up on it immediately,” you said with a rueful shake of your head, but you refused to quite meet his gaze.  “And they spent the next four years – and apparently this evening – making me order drinks and shots based on how filthy the name was.”

Barba picked up the shot glass with its nuclear pink liquid, playing along.  He’d never seen you look so discomfited, and he loved it.  “So what’s this one called?”

“It’s got peach schnapps, coconut rum, cherry vodka….”

“He didn’t ask what was in it, Sparky,” Sarah teased, and Barba gave a bark of laughter at your apparent nickname.

“Sparky?” he asked incredulous. 

You heaved a heavy, beleaguered sigh.  “They called me ‘Sparky’ because a professor called me a sparkplug once when I got worked up and argued a case in class.”  You picked up the shot and regarded it for a moment, then mumbled in a rush, “and this is called a Killer Pussy.”  You stuttered on the last word, scrunched your face in embarrassment, then threw back the shot.  Then turned on your heel and marched off for more booze, the laughter from your table at your back. 

-----

This is how the evening progressed:  you got everyone drinks, socializing as you came and went to the bar with people you passed.  Your friends ordered different shots and tried to make you say what they were.  Sometimes you muttered it in passing, other times you dug your heels in and refused to say it, making your friends howl with laughter.  It wasn’t mean spirited though – you laughed and relaxed with each drink you threw back.  You only did about half of the shots, preferring your mixed cola and whatever.

Every time you wandered off, Barba asked general questions about you to your friends, and they (lawyers in their own right) saw right through him. 

“Why do you care?” asked Sarah.  “You like her?”

“I just face off against her a lot in court,” he offered.  “Might help to know her weak spots.”

Chauncy scoffed at this, like she didn’t believe him.  “Sure.  We wouldn’t help you beat her in court.”  A sly look crossed her face as she looked Barba over like a butcher appraising a cow.  “Maybe if you had more…personal reasons though…”

He felt his face grow warm, but you came back just then with another round (you wouldn’t name the shot, so Sarah said it and Barba heard you audibly wince when she did).  Then dinner was served.

A relative silence descended over the table as everyone ate, and Chauncy took the opportunity to ask you, rather pointedly, if you were seeing anyone.

“No,” you replied with a shake of your head.  You sawed off another piece of steak, happy to leave it at that.

But your friend persisted.  “Maybe you could find someone here,” she tried, and Barba shot her a glare across the table that she only batted her eyes at.

“Doubtful,” you said around a bite of steak.  You glanced around the room.  “Though I see the Bronx ADA that I went on a date with once.  Not my type.”

Barba glanced over to where you were looking – he knew the Bronx ADA you were looking at.  ADA Williams and Barba had started in New York together.  He cleared his throat when you casually brushed off his colleague.  Likely you had an upper age limit on potential suitors.  “Why isn’t he your type?” he asked.

You shrugged and moved onto your mashed potatoes.  “He’s a jerk, and I found out after the fact that he’s still married.  He obviously struggles with the fidelity thing.  It’s a deal-breaker.”  Then you wiped your mouth with your napkin and excused yourself to use the restroom.

Your friends clucked in sympathy and filled him in.  “Her first boyfriend, Jason, cheated on her for a year before she found out.  And her last boyfriend, Dom…well, the working theory is that he cheated too,” said Sarah.

“He’s a cop.  He had a cute little blonde partner that apparently came between them,” Chauncy added.  “Missed their anniversary dinner.”

Sarah sighed.  “I remember that.  She called me, crying.”  She glanced over at Barba and pointed at him.  “This is top secret.  You’re in the inner circle now, so don’t repeat it.”

Chauncy pointed too.  “Inner circle.  You drink the Killer Pussy, you’re in the club.  The only way out of the club is death.”

He held up his hands in surrender.  You eventually returned to your seat, and Barba looked you over.  If your eyes looked a little watery and red-rimmed, he couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or if you’d been crying. 

You were a fierce competitor in the courtroom and an irritating presence besides, but he felt a sympathetic comradery with you.  He’d been cheated on when he was around your age, and he had thrown himself into his work.  Like you seemed to be doing.  He pretended to be uninterested in romance, as you seemed to be now.  And he knew where that sort of life would lead:  you nearing forty, alone and bitter and convinced that you’d never find anyone.  Caught in a terrible limbo of being lonely and wanting love, but too terrified of being hurt again.

Suddenly your reaction at the 16th precinct made more sense.  He also knew that if he ever got the chance, he’d kick Carisi’s skinny ass down the courthouse steps.

-----

After dinner, there were the usual speeches about it being another great year.  There was a slideshow of all the conferences and opportunities they’d created, how membership grew, how so many law articles had been published and legislation drafted.  Then the lights were turned down a fraction and the music was turned up.  Sarah and Chauncy drifted off to dance and mingle with other people, but Barba was perfectly content to pick up the dropped thread of your earlier conversation.  You both stood and went to the bar, got fresh drinks, then lingered by the edge of the dance floor.

Arguing with him seemed to revive you – you’d been unusually quiet ever since dinner, but as soon as Barba brought up the Alexi case again, you got that glint in your eye again.

“Forget the tainted lab results then,” you said.  “I have serious doubts that the rest of the evidence was even legally attained.”

Barba rolled his eye elaborately, which made you roll your eyes at him.  You continued, “there’s a lot of established case law regarding non-English speaking suspects being Mirandized in English only….”

“Your client speaks English, Sparky.”

You narrowed your eyes at him until they were slits, and your scrunched your face up again.  It was probably supposed to look mean, but you looked charming.  Barba wanted to kiss your frowning mouth until your lipstick was smeared and you were smiling at him. 

“Don’t scowl at me,” he continued.  “It’s a great nickname.  It suits you.”  Your eyes narrowed even further, so he plucked your empty glass from you hand and pulled you onto the dance floor before you could protest.

Your dress was off-the-shoulder, and it revealed an expanse of your soft-looking skin – far more than you ever revealed with your courtroom suits.  But Barba was a gentleman, so he laid a hand lightly on your waist and led you in a simple box step around the floor.

“Kadyrbayev versus the Commonwealth of Massachusetts,” you continued.  “Knowing some English isn’t the same as having a competency of English.”

He snorted.  “Everyone knows the Miranda rights,” he started, but you cut him off before he could continue his train of thought. 

“Solid argument,” you agreed sarcastically.  “You write about how ‘everyone knows stuff’ for your law review article?”

Barba gritted his teeth, caught himself when you smirked at him knowingly, and felt his irritation rise.  You were closer to him than you’d ever been; you were close enough that he could smell your bright perfume and feel the stormy electric front he always felt when you were near him and fighting.  But the irritation was stronger than any desire he might feel for you.

“You’re so annoying,” he bit back lamely. 

“Solid,” you repeated.  You tilted your head at him and smiled.  “You’re just mad that I win against you.”

“Rarely.  You rarely win against me.”

“But it stings, doesn’t it?  You’re used to public defenders who barely try, and here comes this girl wonder…”

“Girl pain in the ass,” he grumbled, and you gave another loud laugh at this that startled him into a smile. 

“If you would just be willing to compromise on plea deals, it’d go easier for you.”

“It’s not my job to get plea deals,” he retorted.  “It’s my deal to deliver justice.”

You looked at him, staring straight into his eyes and giving him a jolt at how close your face was to his.  “Define justice, Barba.”

He twisted his mouth into a smirk and stared back at you.  “You need me to give you an introduction to justice?  Plato and Nicomachean ethics?  You skip that at Fordham so that you could go comfort people in jail and tell them it wasn’t their fault because a study once said that people who didn’t get hugged three times a day are more likely to…”

“God, you’re the worst.”  You dropped your hand from his shoulder and pulled your other hand from his grasp, and you marched off the dance floor.  You were slightly unsteady in your high heels, and Barba was at your elbow, following you.  You turned and glanced back at him.  “I meant utilitarianism versus retributivism, and you bring up hugs again.  What’s your deal with hugs, Barba?  You sound like every crusty old white guy ranting about how kids today are too soft….”

“That’s completely unfair,” he barked back, stung at the insinuation.  He wasn’t a monster; he was completely sympathetic to the challenges that poor people faced in the justice system.  You likely didn’t know that he grew up poor in the Bronx, and he was insulted that you thought he didn’t care about the people from his neighborhood…and all the other disenfranchised in the city and beyond.

“I’d slap you,” you replied, and you stopped and turned to look at him.  “But you’d try to twist the simple assault charge into attempted murder, probably.”  You paused, then added, “for justice’s sake.”

“It’d get you off the street at least,” he snapped.  “You could stop menacing the city with your fucking irritating mouth.”

Your eyes widened at his sudden use of profanity.  “Are we actually fighting now, Barba?  Is this us having a fight?”  You pointed between the two of you in disbelief. 

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before he looked at you again.  “You just never stop.  You always have some convoluted study or obscure case from some 1930’s backwater jurisdiction…”

“Like you ever stop!”  You threw your hands up in exasperation.  “You find the most tenuous ways to link a date-rape case back to Constitutional law, practically.”  You went on, made some claim that Barba would eventually cite the Articles of Confederation in a cyber-stalking case, but he was barely paying attention.  He couldn’t tell if you were really mad or not.  He’d never spent so much time with you arguing, so he wasn’t sure if this was its logical outcome.  You were ranting but punctuating your words with light laughs.  You were gesturing wildly but gifting him with half-smiles. 

He wanted to kiss you desperately, but he wasn’t sure if it was because you looked like the sexiest woman he’d ever seen or if because he just wanted you to shut up for a minute.

You were winding down now, and like in court, you linked your conclusion back to your opening statement.  “You never stop either, Barba,” you finished, and you squared off in front of him like you were expecting to actually fight him at this point.

He waited a moment, then simply said, “The Articles of Confederation didn’t outline the court system, so your analogy is very weak.”

You replied by growling at him, “just stop!” and he swore he saw actual murder in your glaring eyes.  He never got to see you thrown off your game like you seemed to be now. 

“How about your make me?” he teased.

You reached up, and for a split second he thought you actually were going to slap him.  Instead, you clasped a palm over his mouth, silencing him.  But he ducked his head out of your grasp with a chuckle, and the next thing he knew, your mouth was on his, cutting off his laugh as you pressed the length of your body against him.  All he could do was groan against you and snake his arms around you.  And then kiss you back.

The rest of the reception fell away, like the world always did when Barba was with you.  He felt you wrap your own hands around the back of his neck, tugging him closer to you.  You parted your lips and ran the tip of your tongue against the seam of his mouth, and he opened himself to you.

You slid your tongue into his mouth, and he groaned again to taste you.  He could feel his blood – already heated from dancing with you and teasing you – start to pool in his groin, and he pushed you away gently, breaking the kiss and looking at you.

Your pupils were huge, and your lipstick was blurred around the edges in that just-kissed look that drove him crazy.  Otherwise, you seemed sober – or sober enough to consent, or at least he convinced himself that you were.  To your credit, you weren’t slurring your words or stumbling or acting drunk.  Aside from kissing him out of nowhere.  That was unexpected, and possibly the result of impaired judgement.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, and you drew your brows in confusion before you nodded.

“I’m fine.” 

“Do you…do you want to get out of here?”  He could barely look at you; he wanted you so badly but wasn’t sure you were sober enough, but you seemed in your right mind.  But you had to be intoxicated to kiss him…maybe?

You cut off his circuitous thinking by reaching down and grabbing his wrist, and you tugged him towards the nearest exit, and Barba was too far gone himself, drunk on the sexual tension and/or murderous rage (Liv could never, ever find out), to do much higher thinking after that.

-----

You were silent as you led him to the street, then you muttered that you lived a few blocks away.  Barba just nodded, but he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him as the two of you walked to your place.  When you had to stop and wait for a light at a crosswalk, he pulled you back to him.  He kept waiting for you to push him away, to stop the whole chain-reaction that you’d started when you kissed him at the reception, but you didn’t.  You leaned into him and kissed him back just as fervently. 

Your apartment looked like a Victorian rowhouse, chopped into units, and as you led him up two floors, you informed him that Sarah and Chauncy lived on the second floor.  At the third landing, you pulled a bundle of keys from your clutch.  Your hands shook a bit as you tried to unlock the door, and Barba took the opportunity to sweep your hair away from the back of your neck and kiss you there, drawing the tip of his tongue along your heated skin and making your breath hitch.

Once inside, he practically kicked the door shut.  You knelt down to undo the narrow ankle straps of your shoes, and once out of them, you were much steadier on your feet.  When you turned to face him, he felt suddenly nervous.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. 

You nodded and reached for him, but he held you at arms’ length.  “Did you have too much to drink?” he asked.

You pulled a face at this, then took a step backwards to balance on one foot in a semblance of a field sobriety test.  “I do solemnly swear that I am well within the legal limit of alcohol intake, and am furthermore consenting to the activities about to occur in this apartment.”

He smiled weakly.  “It’s just that you’re not my biggest fan usually….”.  You took a swift few steps over to him and placed your hand over his mouth again. 

“You’re a pain,” you said softly.  “You constantly fight me at work, you smirk at me, you called me Girl Wonder.  But I very much want you right now, if you want me.”

He did.  Very much.

He kissed the palm that covered his mouth, and when you pulled it away, he dipped his head and kissed your crimson lips, parted them to plunge his tongue and slide it against your own.  And from there, you both got increasingly desperate, pawing at each other and tugging at clothes and gasping each other’s names until it felt like you were both drowning and you were each the only chance of salvation for the other.

Barba shucked his own tuxedo as fast as he could as you shimmied out of your dress, revealing a sweetly sexy strapless black bra and panties.  He pulled you back to him, savoring the feel of your nearly naked frame pressed against him, and you buried your face in the sensitive juncture of his neck and kissed him while he fumbled with the clasp of your bra.  Once undone, he tossed it aside and then cupped your breasts in his big hands, and you arched yourself into him with a moan.

You pulled away from him with a sultry smile, then took his hand and led him into your bedroom.  He lifted you up with a grunt – you were deceptively heavy – and tossed you onto the bed, and you laughed until he joined you and latched onto first your left nipple and then your right, suckling them and then nipping at them with his teeth, and then swirling his tongue around them to soothe the sting of his light bites.  You tangled your hands in his hair, sometimes tugging him upward, sometimes pushing him into the valley of your breasts, and he grinned against your warm skin that smelled faintly of vanilla.  He worked your panties off of you as far as he could reach, and then he felt you kick them off into some shadowy corner of the room.

He wanted to take his time with you, but it was all too much, and he let you tug his head back up to yours.  You kissed again, nipping at his lower lip and sucking on it.  He slid his tongue into your mouth and felt your sharp intake of breath and then your groaning sigh as he reached down to the junction between your legs and slid one of his fingers into you.  He muttered a curse at how wet you were, how unbearably hot, and he wondered if it was all because of him.

You wriggled under him until he was completely on top of you.  And when you opened your legs to him, he removed his hand and replaced it with his cock – so hard that he could practically feel his heartbeat in it.  But despite the spinning room and the heady unreality of having you naked underneath him, he managed to pause and ask you if this is what you really wanted.

“Oh, yes,” you whispered, and your eyes had that same gleam in them as they did when you argued with him at work, so he gazed into them as he slid into your depths in one even motion.  Your eyelids fluttered and you moaned something unintelligible, so he paused again when was buried to the hilt and asked if you were okay.

To answer him, you wrapped first one leg and then the other around the small of his back, granting him an extra inch to sink into you as you pulled him closer.  He dropped his head beside yours with a growl, and he let your small heels dig into his ass and guide his thrusts until he found his own rhythm.  It wasn’t long before you were gasping his name, and then arching hard underneath him, so hard that you nearly bucked him off of you, and then squeezing his cock as you came against him.  And then he followed, unable to hold back, spilling himself deep inside of you. 

And from there, the alcohol and sex and maybe the exhaustion from your evening of bickering put you both to sleep before any awkwardness could descend.   You were both sprawled out at first but then drifted in sleep towards each other until you were curled against him, and his arm held you there.

Hours later, before sunrise, you both stirred and came awake in degrees.  Barba’s erection pressed against your hip, and he tried to pull away from you, embarrassed.  But you pressed a finger against his mouth to silence him before he could talk.  When he kissed it, you tilted your head at him and leaned down to press your own lips to his, and without a word exchanged, you straddled him, running your slick parts against him. 

“Is this really what you want?” you whispered, echoing his own question to you earlier.  He could only reply as you had.

“Oh, yes.”

You lowered yourself onto him, but it was less frenzied this time.  In the dim light, he could make out your outline as you rode him gently, sliding yourself off of him nearly all the way before impaling yourself.  Over and over and over, until he had to reach out and grab your hips to guide you in a faster pace, bouncing you onto him until you came.  You gasped his name again, and he felt his own orgasm coil up and then snap, and he came too.

And then another few hours of sleep.  When Barba woke up, fully sober and a little hungover, and the soft grey-pink light of dawn creeping through the blinds, he felt a sudden horror at what he’d done.  You were dead asleep:  your lips were parted as you snored lightly, and your hand was laid across his arm.  He moved it carefully to not wake you.

He should have never come to Brooklyn, he should have never drank at all, and he certainly should have never come back to your place.  And to have sex with you twice, when he wasn’t sure if you could really consent?  A terrible dread filled him, and he did the only thing he could do:  he slid out of bed, got dressed as quickly as he could, and fled.

He was halfway back across the Brooklyn Bridge when he second-guessed himself, but by now you’d be awake and realizing that he’d left you.  And fleeing was useless anyway:  your respective work heavily overlapped, and he’d have to face you sooner or later.

[funnyducky666]

His hands gripped your shirt. With your body becoming limp you were a rag doll to him. Kylo’s tears dripped onto your pale cheeks. He begged and screamed for you to keep your eyes open, with whatever energy you had left your cold fingers reached up to touch his cheek wiping away a tear threading to fall on you. His lips quivered at your touch, he pulled you close in one arm while his hand came over yours and you heard the faintest whimper come from him. “Ben… don’t weep for me. I’ll always be there…” you gasped lightly as your vision began to blur, “I’ll always be with you. I love you.” Was what you managed to breath out before he leaned down to kiss you one last time. Your purple lips attempted to kiss him back, he couldn’t feel much of your effort but he knew… the memory of both your lips pressed together in previous kisses got him through this last one. He pressed his forehead against yours. He said it while cradling your head in his hand, “I love you too… I will never stop loving you.” And with his eyes closed you slipped away. Quietly. He kept your cold lifeless hand on his cheek as he sobbed. He laid you down in the snow and didn’t bother to give you one last look. Wanting to keep your warm bright smile alive in his mind, wanting to keep your glowing eyes and soft skin still alive. He reached for his lightsaber, then yours that laid feet away from both of you. He attached it to his belt clip, ignited his loud red cracking saber and left you there. Now a man on a mission to Avenge you, his best friend, his lover, his light. To snuff out the poor soul who decided to take you away from him.

[treasureswordsgirl55]

Pilot Proof

Character: Poe Dameron

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Fem!RebelReader

Inspired by: You Can Leave Your Hat On - Joe Cocker

Warnings: Nop. Fluff Fluff. Funny. Post!TROS. Leia and Ben are alive. Alternative final of the movie. Fluff. A little bit spicy. Mentions of war. TROS spoilers.

Author's Note: Hello! hello!

I'm here with one of all of my fic that I've written with Poe in the past years, 2021 especially and that was a something that I write with that melody in my head.

It's a pleasure for me write with Poe. By the way, I'm ending the novel that I write with him, so... If you wanna be tagged or something, just let me know in the comments!

Thanks for reading! XOXO 😘 Noe!

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

- Are you sure you're doing this? Do you think it's a good idea? - I ask while Rey and Rose walk me to my room. The corridors of the resistance base are quiet, there are no wars to end, no problems to face. The three of us walk in silence as we greet those who pass us with a smile, and just thinking about what is about to happen in less than an hour makes me nervous.

- This is the most important thing for you, you should be happy with it - The smile that Rey gives me gives me peace. I need much more than that right now.

- I'm not talking about that, Rey. I'm talking about the other - She nods without saying a word although she knows that inside she is smiling.

- Did you tell him? - I know what Rose means as soon as the question leaves her lips and I shake my head. As soon as the door to my room opens, both pass by and the image of the orange suit placed carefully on my bed makes a chill take over me, as well as the sensation of carrying a stone in my stomach makes fear want to take over. me, and not because of the idea of ​​having to present myself in front of the entire commission with one of them, but because of the fact of thinking about what Poe's reaction would be when seeing me wearing one of these - He will not believe it when he sees you with this.

Rey sits on the edge of the bed and gently touches the suit as if it were something that would break at a single touch.

- I can tell you something? - I shake my head, nodding as I tie my hair into a ponytail and take a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully not to let my emotions overwhelm me. - I think he's going to go crazy.

- Because what you say?

- Look, it's awkward being in the same room with Poe without fighting, but it's much more awkward when you enter it - She smiles and I can see her roll her eyes as she lies on my bed, next to the suit as if it were a person who occupies the place - The air becomes heavy around him that sparks fly. I could even swear I've seen them.

- Don't exaggerate - Rose lets out a laugh and exchanges a knowing look with Rey when they notice that Poe's jacket and helmet are on my desk - Before they say anything, it's not what you think.

- Is there something you haven't told us?

- The only thing that happened was that Poe asked me if he could sleep here for a while after one of his flights, because he was too lazy to walk to his room - I take the suit and for a second I regret my decision. A few months ago I had discussed it with Leia and I expressed my desire to join the squad, so as soon as I accepted, I asked for one condition: Not to be in the same squad as Poe and not to know about this until I finished my training.

It was hard not to tell what I considered my best friend about the adventure I was about to undergo, but part of me wanted it to be a surprise.

I wanted him to be proud of me.

It didn't take long for Leia to realize that my feelings towards Poe were different, and with much more reason she understood my request: I didn't feel capable of keeping an eye on a battle if he was by my side.

- Let him know and ask him to wear his jacket.

- I don't have to do that.

If they knew I even have access to his room when he's not there, they'd scream like 10-year-olds.

- Do it the same, so at least he gets a wrong idea of ​​what he thinks he will see. If we are going to made crazy the General, we are going to do it right - She hands me the small communication device that Rose had created for the five of us as a prototype of a terrestrial "cell phone", with a smile and I send a quick message before the attentive gaze of my companions .

"Poe, will you let me wear your jacket? You left it here in my room"

I wait for a few seconds and the screen turns blue as soon as the response arrives.

"You don't have to ask me, everything I have is yours, love"

I smile as I feel Rey's face resting on my shoulder, reading the messages in silence.

- It's so cheesy...

I walk away for a moment as I listen to them mutter something about Poe and see that Rey has her helmet in her hands. I really like the cutesy, laid-back way he has when there's no danger around. It makes him look more human and less "hero".

"Does that include you too?"

I write in a rush of thought, trying to play on the tension between us, and I send the message before I regret it. There's no answer, so I figure he must be with Leia or in some important meeting. His new life as a General left him exhausted in ways he didn't think possible, but in those where he had to use his brain and leave his emotions in a drawer. As soon as I turn around, the flash on Rose's cell phone lights up and she smiles as she looks at the photo.

- I'll tell BB-8 to record his expression - Rey's teasing makes me sit close to them and Rose helps me put on the suit.

- What's the matter with the jacket? - I ask while I see her holding the jacket as if it were a relic.

- A man is very excited when the woman he is attracted to wears his clothes. It's like a territorial mark. It's not the same for Finn to wear it as for you to wear it - Poe being territorial about Finn? I dismissed that thought the minute he arrived with a smile and I was reminded how territorial Poe is with all of us, but he's even more so with BB-8 - And coming from you it will be a blow to catch him off guard.

- Did you deduce that when Kylo Ren wanted to rip your head off or when you kissed Ben in Exegol?

I laugh as Rose buttons the top of the suit and Rey frowns, trying to look annoyed.

Despite everything they went through to get here, Rey and Ben were the perfect match. I aspired to have such a love.

- I reaffirm my opinion: He will go crazy - The idea of ​​driving Poe crazy was never in my plans since it was more likely that the one who would go crazy with him was me, but I decided to play along, how bad could it be to provoke him? little bit? - How much do you want to bet that he will be speechless as soon as he sees you? - I roll my eyes and try not to think about the different images that appear in my head and make my heart race even more.

- To all this, what will Leia say? I don't want her to think that I'm not committed to this - I ask while Rose adjusts my neck and the minimum details - One of her new pilots trying to seduce her second General in command?

The two women exchange a look and Rey takes my arm, slightly calling my attention - And whose idea was it? - I'm speechless. I knew that Leia was a very funny person outside of her role as head of the Resistance, but I never thought that she would conspire with two girls to try to derail the integrity of her favorite pilot.

- Whoa. Even I would go out with you if that were the case - Rey murmurs short at the same time that he lets out something similar to a whistle. I blush at his words and even though the jacket was a bit too big for me, it was too warm and comfortable to turn down. Now I could understand the "Territorial" it seemed that he was with me.

- Rey!

- Don't tell Ben that I said that - He indicates to Rose and she raises her hands smiling, while we hear the footsteps in the corridor become louder, indicating that the meeting was just a few minutes away from starting. As I walk to the door, Rey pulls the band that holds my hair and my waves fall due to the effect of gravity between the constant fight of frizz and neatness.

- You look really good - A "Thank you" leaves my lips while I feel too comfortable with the outfit. I hold out my hand for her to hand me the hair tie but she shakes her head.

- I'm afraid he'll have a heart attack - I hear the concern in the Jedi's voice and I know it's sincere - I'm afraid his heart is too fragile to bear it.

- Did you know? The only thing I'll get once he sees me come in is the longest, most complaining talk of my entire life about why I didn't tell him about this. Also, he's not as fragile as it looks.

- You're not exaggerating, Eileen. You'd need red lipstick and you'd look amazing for a calendar photo, the kind used to raise funds for worthy causes - Did she just call me a model? Before I can even think to answer him, Rey reaches across the bed and opens the little drawer that's on the side of the nightstand and pulls out that red lipstick he had given me for last Christmas. He extends it to me with a smile and those sparkling eyes that we all loved so much.

- Do it for us - I look away to try not to fall for the trick of those abandoned puppy eyes with which she sees me and knows that I will end up giving in, but that's Rey, she gets what he wants, by hook or by crook - Just once?

- Only one photo and I take it off - They applaud and I paint my lips in front of the full-length mirror, and I let them take a couple of photos of me, until the three of us take one together. When I go to remove my lipstick, it doesn't come out - Rey?

- Yeah, maybe I forgot to mention that it's not coming out... for a couple of hours. Or more... - A knock on the door makes me jump, I approach the bed and take Poe's helmet. He won't mind if I borrow it, plus the hair band Rey took from me - Looks good on you.

- This is not the time, Rey. We have to go - I open the door while wearing Finn, who walks away holding me by the arms and looking at me as if he had seen a ghost - I'm sorry Finn.

- Eileen? What the...? You look... Whoa - She glances between us a little surreptitiously and looks at the helmet I'm holding in my hand - You know that she's going to kill him with that, right?

I let out a sigh as I listen to the beeps of BB-8, who stops as soon as he sees me and lets out a beep that seems endless. - Thanks BB, you look good too - I blush and listen to Finn's murmurs that he's scared for his best friend, Rey's excuses about Leia and Rose's idea, and BB-8's beeps that fill the air about the number of people in the meeting room.

- It's time BB-8.

...

General Organa smiles at the arrival of the new pilots who join the new ranks of the Resistance.

As soon as his eyes detect the young men who faithfully fought at his side, he automatically turns, looking for that brown-eyed boy who has been anxious all afternoon to know where his best friend was. Her brow furrowed at not finding him, so she turns to her loyal droid who does nothing but enjoy the murmurs around her.

- Treepio. Have you seen Poe?

The droid turns as she looks for her grumpy commander but finds no sight of him. She knew that the Commander used to get overwhelmed on certain occasions so she assumed that he would be out of the room.

- He was here a moment ago - Leia looked back at her second in command and she didn't find him, which made her worry, but she knew how important this moment was to Poe.

As if by magic, the two pieces of the puzzle they wanted to put together appear along with a fluctuation in the Force that made her smile: Poe's passion with

Eileen's Shyness were complementary opposites that were meant to be together. She knew it from the moment she saw them, but she didn't feel so confident about intervening. Until her dear King of her talked about it.

She felt like Cupid, but she knew if Poe didn't get a push, he wouldn't do anything about Eileen.

On the other hand, Poe greeted everyone in his squad with hugs, nodded politely to his superiors, and smiled at the new recruits who would likely be part of his squad. As that insecurity washed over him, she took a deep breath and thought of the only thing that could reassure him: Eileen's voice.

A silence accompanied his words about courage, loyalty and the search for the Freedom they so longed to protect. Poe was still trying to make her voice convey experience and wisdom, which he had acquired in part from her various mistakes, but which was nowhere near Leia's. His dear General saw him with pride, since the Raddus he had tried to be better, to be everything Leia needed: He wanted to win her trust again, and even though he had already done it, he still felt guilty for his bad decisions.

And that is what he wanted to convey to those new riders, that emotions were not always the best allies at a time that could be decisive for everyone.

- I want you to record this in your heads: Here, we are all a family. We protect each other and we are willing to give up our lives for it. And if you decide to do something, that will stay with you until the last day of your life.

Leia smiled as she watched as her second-in-command watched the pilots intently as she spoke but suddenly she fell silent and knew he had seen her.

Poe felt his heart stop as soon as he saw her standing there among the new pilots, in that orange jumpsuit he had grown accustomed to wearing when she was still flying. She made her stand out among the others even though her outfit was the same as everyone else's, the only thing that differentiated her from them was that she was wearing his jacket. And a feeling of belonging took over him at the same time that he looked for his words to come out and no word formed in his head. But he was proud that they understood that she was with him, implicitly, of course. But he liked the idea more than he wanted to admit.

She was so beautiful that she had put him out of business. Leia noticed her nervousness and took charge of the rest of the speech - I'm sorry but General Dameron is speechless with the emotion of seeing you here.

Poe silently thanked the intrusion, knowing that Leia did not miss any detail and when he wanted to go down the small stairs where they were, the Communications alarm sounded at the same time that Jess entered the room quickly - Sorry, General But there's trouble on the outer edges of the Galaxy, they say a faction of the First Order is trying to kidnap children.

- Unfortunately this will be the first flight, go and may the Force be with you - Everyone began to disperse before Poe's gaze and he lost sight of Eileen without taking his eyes off her. He looked around her and didn't find her, tried to spot Finn or Rey in the crowd and didn't either. He let out a heavy sigh as he thought about running to the hangars, where she might be.

- Poe? - The young man turned at the call of her General and she threw him from her side with little delicacy - What the hell are you waiting for to go after her? She is in the hallway on the way to the hangars. Get out Poe! It's an order.

...

As soon as I left the meeting room, I ran into Jess, who told me that I should use the first X-Wing that was available. BB-8 lets out a few beeps telling me that he can accompany me on this first mission, but that I should talk to Poe first. I frowned at the droid's words and didn't have to wait long, because in all the crowd of people rushing towards the hangars, a hand grabbed my arm and pushed me against the nearest wall.

- How the hell are you wearing that? - Poe's agitated voice made my body turn like jelly. The closeness of him and the heat that his body gave off made him not think clearly - Why didn't you tell me?

- I didn't want to worry you... I wanted to surprise you - he moves away enough without letting go of my arms and releases a heavy sigh, as if he had trouble breathing. I let go of his grip and I get a little closer, moving my hands up his arms and taking his face, looking for him to look at me - Poe?

- Well, you gave it to me, little one. You look amazing in the suit - his voice starts to sound breathy and his breathing becomes more ragged. I notice him nervous and I smile, I like to think about the effect I have on him - I wish we weren't doing this here, but if it wasn't for the emergency call we would already be talking about this.

- I don't like the idea of ​​talking - I blurt out as I push him away and hear BB-8's beeps in the distance telling me that I should go - Maybe, when I comes back, we can do something about it.

Poe moved away when he understood the meaning of my words and smiled, blushing. - And what do you suggest?

- Perhaps, if you want to wait for me when I return, we could take this to a field that we both know.

- You're not helping, Eileen.

- Are you nervous General? - He shakes his head and brings me a little closer to the wall, leaving a minimum space between them. R2-D2 walks past us and his sounds let us know that Leia is on her way, looking for Poe.

- I will go with you. It's the only way I have to make sure you come back here with me - I lift his helmet and move it away, leaving it behind me, while I take him by the waist and bring him a little closer - Eileen... Don't made me get down of that ship.

- I'm sorry, but this time you have to stay on the ground, Flyboy - Look at my lips and sigh again. That was going much further than I expected - I like that you are aware of me.

- I like you so fucking much, darling. You don't have an idea that what are you making me - He admits as he pulls away and looks in the direction of the meeting room - Damn, why now?

He cursed the emergency, the First Order, and everyone involved in it. I let out a laugh calling his attention and I move away a little placing my hand on his shoulder - Stay calm, I'll be back when you least realize it.

In a moment of distraction, he wanted to take off my helmet but I move away enough so that it is not within his reach - Stop there, Dameron. This time it's my turn to have fun - I take him from the lapel of his jacket and press my lips against his, trying not to sound like a goodbye but a promise. I pull away as soon as I feel him try to intensify the kiss and I already miss the softness of his lips - You must stay Poe. See you in a bit.

I walk away with a smile as BB-8 lets out a variety of beeps where he talks about Poe, the First Order, and Leia as I put on my helmet and my nerves take over again. The green screen lights up and points me the way under the coordinates sent to BB-8.

- Are you ready, BB?

A beep fills the cabin and we are ready to go

"Lieutenant Barnes, are you ready to take off?"

- Ready

"Authorization granted. Good first flight and may the Force be with you"

I smiled at my communicator's words and went out into outer space. I prepare to jump and communication is enabled again, this time through a private channel. I didn't have to wait for him to speak to know it was Poe.

- What do you want Dameron?

"Wish you good luck, you'll do great out there"

I blush at his words and look at the space around me

"Just breathe and let the Force guide you"

- You always know what to say and when to say - BB-8 indicates that he is ready to jump and I see that the others begin to enter Hyperspace - I must go.

- I know. Take care of you because I want us to clarify to what extent we are involved in this, because I told you that everything that is mine is yours, including me whenever you want.

- At your order, General - Before cutting off the communication, I let out a laugh - How involved would I be in this if I let you take my suit off when I return?

The last thing I hear before jumping into Hyperspace is a curse on the other end of the comm.

[tenshusuto]

⅋⅋ㅤ𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 ; ㅤ( always accepting) @kakimushire : It costs him a lot. Actually so much so that he's been contemplating for three days whether he should say it or not. In the end, he decides that it's best to just get it out of the way so that he can focus on other things. "Happy birthday." He has no gift for him, even though Urahara's birthday is the only birthday he always remembers. Urahara is also one of the only people whose birth Mayuri is actually thankful for. He knows he's days too late with saying it but, he doesn't think the other will mind that.

ㅤTheory of plausibility that Mayuri feigns numerological unawareness was a notch far-fetching than admissible. Any gift he would receive wasn't as sacrificing as the gesture and fact that in his conduct and spare time Kurotsuchi personally ( if we omit Mayuri was the one who caught Kisuke on the upper floor in one of Seireitei's outlying markets suspiciously close to Rukon borders and even more suspiciously in - reiatsu concealing cloak ) step into his sphere of activity to congratulate Kisuke with something so mundane and humdrum like his day of birth.

ㅤIn the sunset of dissolution, fragments of life are illuminated by the aura of nostalgia. Happy Birthday - conjured a prolonged stare, taking him decades back to the brazen, old days each without framed by a halo of spun flax where they used to talk on a daily basis. Until mercurial eyes snap from introspecting vision with a slow, now presently breezy squint of apparent surprise. The upper part of his cannily arranged self pivots slightly in poise at the Captain with a reticent smile. ㅤWith shift in the air, he couldn't help but suspect that those words held one more meaning, something like: caught you. Outlined voice tucks back in deny a lilt of his nature's eloquence, whereas invisible syllables ghostly mumble somewhere in the emptiness of interword gaps.

ㅤAn impressive range of displays considering the Year only started. True was he did not expect anything nor minded delay - they would reach conformity point in that one.

It was the barest of congratulations, but it was a congratulation nonetheless. Still, Kisuke's uttering - intent on politely carrying the message of his appreciation.

ㅤ'' Quite belated but thank you, Mayuri-san, '' micro gesture of his hand reaches the front of the cloak's brim in adjusting lift and a few habitual scratches across forehead bangs, '' what a coincidence to see you here. Are you also a fan of shopaholism at dusk? ''

[supremeprince-bensolo]

Carrie would hate duel of he fates and tros

100%

I think she’d be appalled at what they did with Leia in TROS. And the script for DOTF... she would’ve rewritten all her scenes and tbh probably the entire thing as well.

[celestialwife]

like!!!! WHAT WAS THIS ABOUT!!!! and the shot of him walking straight up to the camera before this??? did they include it just to give me butterflies??? to make me wanna kiss him silly??

[prncefinn]

the set up for a rey solo pun reveal... I'm still mad about it

[hotside]

My Roman Empire is to imagine that Kylo and Rey met secretly between TLJ and TROS.

[webslingingslasher]

can i request frat peter comforting and taking care of reader on her period?

i wrote this at work, do not EVER question my loyalty to frat!peter

w: talks of blood/period (i’m on mobile and can’t add a read more tag)

“Hello?”

It’s daytime and you’re calling Peter, he almost didn’t answer but something told him it was important.

He didn’t leave the lunch table, instead crossing his arms over his chest as he answered, his chair tilted back on two legs. Eyebrows furrowed in focus mode, he heard a slight shuffle, he assumes it’s a buttdial but he hears a whisper.

“That you, trouble?”

You must not have heard him the first time, the audio becomes crystal clear. You speak so loud and clear he can see your mouth pressed against the edge of your phone in his mind while you talk low.

“Peter, I need you.”

Oh. Well that’s a nice lunch break.

“At school? You really are tro-“

“No! I need you to come do something. I need help.”

The last part is a mumble, you didn’t want to admit. Peter slammed his seat down, “what do you need from me?” Instantly in go mode.

“It’s embarrassing,” his chest doesn’t feel as tight, nothing life or death.

“Spit it out junior, you’re making me miss out on my sandwich.”

“igotmyper-bloodisever-help?”

You heard silence then loud chewing, Peter’s voice came out garbled, his bite stored in his cheek.

“I heard blood and help, did you stab someone?” You whine out on the other end, you said you needed his help but he’s taking the piss.

“No! I’m…” Peter’s heart races when you sniffle, it’s the first time he’s ever heard you cry. He speaks to you so softly it catches the attention of his friend across the table.

“Hey, trouble. Stop crying for me, okay? Just let me know what you need and I’ll be right there, alright?”

You nod and realize he can’t see, you take a deep breath to stop your tears.

“I got my period.”

“Yuck! Why are you calling me?”

“Because,” why did you? You didn’t even think, you were in panic mode and for whatever reason he was the one you thought of calling. “Can you please help?”

Peter groaned, “call one of your girl friends, they’re prepared for this.”

“Yeah, but you’re my-“ my… my what? He wasn’t your anything. “Never mind, I’ll call-“

“No, no. I’ll play hero for you, where are you?”

You looked down at your ruined pants and cringed, “um, the downstairs bathroom in the lab building.”

Peter takes a beat, his mind trying to connect the dots.

“Why are you in the… trouble, were you coming to see me?” He’s not even in the room and he makes you feel flushed, “no! I was just passing by and noticed.”

“Give me five minutes, don’t move.”

—————

“You can’t be in here.”

A straight to the point fact. You can imagine the hoity toity expression on the girl's face, you don’t blame her for questioning but if a guy comes into a woman’s bathroom you’d assume it’s for a reason.

“Excuse me! I said you can’t be in here!”

“Fuck off, my girlfriend got her period.”

Your breath hitched, you know he didn’t mean it like that but wow did it feel nice.

“Oh. Well, still. You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Yeah, noted. I ruined your day.” A two knuckle tap on the stall door, you heard the main door open and a few choice words directed at your boy. He didn’t acknowledge it, his only focus on you.

“Trouble, you doing alright?”

“Yeah,” you stare at his shoes under the door.

“Want me to come in?”

You look at your pants and wince, you didn’t expect it to come early. You didn’t leak through a tampon or pad, you freebled and the back of your thighs proved it.

“It’s bad,” because it was. Even for your standards.

“Yeah, you’re gross. Can I come in?”

You stand from the toilet, you’d never rest your jeans on the seat normally but they’re already trash. You slide the lock on the handicap stall and it slowly pushes open.

“Hi,” you look shy and embarrassed, Peter pushed past that entirely.

“Hi, c’mere.” You melt into his chest when his arms wrap tight around you, his mouth places a kiss on your hairline.

“Alright, shark week. Let’s see the damage,” you peer at the ground and turn slowly. “Ah shit, okay. Hold on.”

Peter tugged his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it. A togo bag was folded up, he pulled it out and handed it to you, you held onto the cardboard handles.

“Put your nasty, hazardous material covered, underwear in here. And use one of these, or both, I dunno, I don’t have… one of those.”

Peter hands you a pad and a tampon, your eyes sparkle when you grab them. “Where did you get these from?” He rubbed at the back of his neck, “Matt’s girlfriend, I asked if she had something and she asked what you used, I didn’t know so I asked for both.”

You clutch the paper thin plastic to your chest, “thank you.”

He pauses then nods, as he backs out his hand holds the top of the stall door. You wait to make sure he’s not coming back in and you start stripping, you follow his instructions and pull your pants back up. It’s an uncomfortable sticky, you can’t wait to get home as soon as possible to shower.

The stain is still your biggest issue, there’s no way you’d face the entire campus with it.

“Peter-“

The door swung back out, your boy smiled. You clutched the bag shyly, you would have to walk back to your dorm, with a fat stain.

“Give me the biohazard,” you shake your head fast, there’s no way you’d let Peter see what’s in the bag.

“No, no way. It’s disgusting.”

“Trouble,” he gives you a look you haven’t seen before, “give me the damn bag,” you hold it out and he snatches it. Closing it carefully and stuffing it back in his backpack before zipping it closed.

“As for that,” Peter points at your red stain. He drops his bag to the ground and pulls off his outer layer. An open faced flannel, a plain white tee shirt underneath.

Peter pushes your elbows up, “arms up.”

You took a deep breath when he approached, he smelled so, so good. Peter tugged you closer by your hips and gave you a very light smile, his arms looped around you, his flannel in his hands.

You're brought closer when the arms of his shirt are tied tightly around your waist, he crouches in front of you to hang the sleeves just right, leveling them so they hide your crotch.

Peter’s fingers tap your knee, “spread for me,” you do as he asks and he looks you over before standing.

“I think I just helped you cover up a murder, we’re bonded for life now.”

Funny, he jumped right into action and guided you when you were too frazzled to think for yourself, yet you still feel shy.

“Thanks, I don’t know why I called you. It’s not your job.”

Peter’s hand cups your face, “hey,” you look into his eyes, he doesn’t seem so scary, and not in the slightest disgusted or bothered.

“You’re my girl, right?”

You nod into his touch, his thumb brushes your skin, proud you know the answer.

“That means you call whenever you want and I’ll come running.”

“Thank you, petey.”

He didn’t fight you on the nickname, his thumb rested over your bottom lip until he gave in. Peter gave you a bruising kiss, one that made him prove how much he actually cared for you, even if he couldn’t make the words leave his mouth.

You pulled back, not trying to makeout in a bathroom.

“Can you take me home?”

Your boy scoffs, “absolutely not. I have three quarters of a sandwich waiting for me, getting soggier by the second.”

When you frown at him his thumb catches it and tugs it back up. “But-“ Your eyes light up, he can’t help himself and places a chaste kiss to your mouth, “I’ll give you a key so you can hang out at mine?”

A key? A house key? He’d give you a house key?

“I would’ve thought hell would freeze over before you’d give me a key to your place.”

Peter shrugs, “eh, that’s before I knew I was dating a squirter.” He giggles when you smack at his arms, you grunt when a sudden cramp hits and you squeeze his arm in support instead.

“Alright, crampy. Go home, I’ll give you a cuddle when I get back.”

You nearly skip out of the bathroom with Peter behind you, he looks around before pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, yeah?”

You can’t help but to sigh dreamily, “yeah.”

[panimoonchild]

Fight for them as they fought for you

Mykyta Tatyanko "Zhyvchyk", a soldier of the 501st separate marine battalion, is still in captivity. He hit the front pages of all the world's media because he was simply helping the wounded during the shelling of the Mariupol maternity hospital. Because he just wanted to save someone.

In Mariupol, Zhyvchyk provided moral support to the locals. Ksenia, a resident of the city, met the soldier when a residential area was shelled. That day, March 12, her family was injured and slaughtered - her 16-year-old son and her sister's husband were killed instantly. "I was in a state of shock: I wanted to commit suicide because half of my family was killed in front of me, and the other half was not sure if they would survive," Ksenia said. The young defender helped the woman to keep her morale up. Mykyta convinced her that she shouldn't do anything to herself because many people around her needed help. "You are needed here, let's go help," Ksenia recalls. Ksenia told Mykyta's mother, Larysa, everything in detail, and told her that she had become the heroine of a movie about Mariupol. She also talked a lot about Mykyta in the movie, but she didn't give them any details. They are still in touch. Once she said: "Maybe you will be offended by me, but now Mykyta will be my adopted son." And Larysa was very happy about that, because now they both pray for him sincerely. Larysa was also contacted by one of the guys who was in the TRO and headed the security of the hospital in the city center. In a conversation with the soldier's mother, the defender said that in Mariupol, her son shared his food and medicine with the residents. Mykyta gave away almost everything he had.

❗In these pictures, he is 19 years old. At the age of 18, he voluntarily chose the path of the military, which even before the full-scale war, he was in the east part of Ukraine. Mykyta has been in captivity for almost 2 years, so he is now 21.

Please, share stories of our defenders in captivity. Many of them, including Mykyta have been there more than 2 years. You can only imagine what Russians do and tell them. Russians entertain themselves by breaking people, especially Ukrainians. They fiercely hate people who protect and fight for freedom. I hope our people find even more power in themselves to live through the hell of russian captivity. And when defenders all come back to their homeland, they will be themselves, in a healthy state like body and mind. There so many people are waiting for them. They deserve only good things after all of that.

The gorgeous Frank with important message in Kyiv.

[luke-shywalker]

I was skimming this interview Adam Driver did where he was saying 1) he’s not returning to Star Wars (good, let Ben Solo rest in peace lol) and 2) the original plan for Kylo’s character was to have him be the opposite of Vader, starting out unsure in the dark side but becoming more evil through the trilogy.

Y’all know I was fighting for my boy to be redeemed because redemption is one of the central themes of Star Wars. And a lot of the anti-Kyle Ron fans’ reasoning for not wanting him to be redeemed was that “he didn’t deserve it” (to which I was like, yes, correct, redemption is receiving mercy we do not deserve and could never earn.)

But I find the idea of Kylo Ren becoming more and more dark side and never returning to the light pretty interesting, because while redemption and forgiveness is a core part of my worldview, life in the broken world doesn’t always go that way. Sometimes parents watch their child reject the light and embrace the darkness, never to return, despite all their prayers and attempts at intervention.

We know TROS was missing a villain and that’s why somehow, Palpatine returned. It would have been interesting if Supreme Leader Kylo Ren was the big bad in the final movie. (Redeemed Kylo in TROS didn’t really feel real to me btw…I felt like I was watching Adam Driver act out “male lead” but not really know who his character was or who he was playing anymore lol)

I don’t have a lot more thought out to say, but I was just imagining dark side Kylo in his final form getting defeated in the last movie and everyone in the Resistance cheering like at the end of ROTJ, except for Leia. And Leia wondering why her father, the one she hates and can never forgive, was the one to turn back to the light and lives on in the Force, but her son, who she has loved since before he was born and cannot help but forgive, would not turn back and is gone forever.

[marinersubmariner]

You are hard to find.

I actually have a longer Ben-on-Lah’mu AU picspam that precedes this and has been languishing unfinished for a few years (?!?! ugh.......) because I wasn’t happy with the manips. Maybe if I drag my feet long enough they’ll just bring back Ben Solo and make my desperate photoshopping obsolete!!

The short explanation is that I put Ben in exile on Lah’mu for the aesthetics (I LOVE SPACE ICELAND) so he’s just alive and hanging out and being beautifully melancholy. But for this particular edit I imagined a slightly different backstory (...an imaginary AU of an imaginary AU...........) in that instead of “he didn’t die” this is “TROS still happened as-is and he got resurrected afterward” and this specific moment is Rey finding him and them seeing each other for the first time since Exegol. The vague story in my mind is that maybe she managed to pull him back to the living world but through some transdimensional mishaps he got dumped out somewhere random and Rey had to track him down. And while he was stranded on Lah’mu he had to just chill and become a farmer.

[heartsoftruth]

And we still don’t even know WHAT he did.

I hope the AVRO/TROS will tell us more since they also label it as “disproportional”.

Imagine Joost going to ESF. With such a happy song; that ends so beautiful. To honor his parents AND HE GETS DSQ.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Disney Villains Only being able to Speak their First Language to Eachother

Hey fellow Hetalians (No such thing as an ex-Hetalian, y'all know that), remember that post about all the characters only being able to speak their countries official languages for a day?? And the chaos that would've ensued?? This is inspired by that post XD

Imagine the Disney Villains getting hexed by like, Mama Odie or Merryweather or Merlin or someone, so they can all only speak and understand their first language for a month.

Yes. A whole month.

The Toon Patrol are seriously struggling because Greasy keeps talking really fast Spanish at them but the rest have no idea what he's saying. Eventually Smartass decides to lock him in a separate room until this can be figured out and you can just hear banging and vague Spanish coming out the crack.

Ernesto is trying to figure out what some of the English speakers are saying because every 11th word is kinda familiar and they speak slow (Especially the rotund, yodelling fellow) but he keeps getting distracted by this faint Spanish yelling coming from another room.

Hades and Jafar stand off to the side near a wall just watching all the mess. They cant understand each other of course but no one else can understand them either so there's really nothing else to do. Hades will occasionally point something out, like Gaston leaning his sweaty arm on Frollo's shoulder and Frollo struggling to not buckle under the weight, and they'll chuckle. (Yes, laughter. The universal language XD)

Speaking of the French speakers-- they're suffering. Frollo hates his fellow French speakers for all being such sinners, Lady Tremaine hates the others because they're idiots or they have too much attitude towards her (*Cough* mal), Maleficent looks down on them all because they're all magic-less plebs, Edgar hates them because they all have money, and Gaston keeps talking about himself and someone is going to hit him. But they all try to keep it together, keep it classy, though most of them have elected to just not talk except for Gaston.

The oddest pairing is probably Hans and Ursula. She speaks Danish, or a dialect similar to it, and he is either Norwegian or Icelandic. If he's Norwegian, they're trying to figure out what the other is saying. Its mostly Ursula flirting with him and him carefully deciphering her words... and then facepalming. ikke til å tro (Unbelievable). But she keeps making like she has something important to tell him, like how to fix this huge predicament, and he keeps falling for it XD

Hilda and Mother Gothel speak German together and basically check out of this mess- like, do they want to understand what insanity Gaston and Jafar are saying again?? Or Frollo?? Haha, No...

Scroop speaks a harsh alien dialect and Silver's just standing next to him like yeah, yeah... you know i dont understand a word you're saying? *... realises scroop cant understand him either and sighs* Ahhh... *Rubs the bridge of his nose*

Rourke approaches the Horned King, curious why he's just standing there doing nothing and gets a string of growly Welsh and promptly... leaves... Like nope. Not today. That crap sounded like an ancient curse and that is not on todays schedule, thanks.

Clayton claims to have visited half these countries (Truth) and could figure out what many of the other villains are saying if he wanted (Exaggeration) so Cruella's like okay great... go and Captain Hook's like that's marvelous! go ahead then my good fellow!. He goes up to Shan Yu and immediately fails.

Shan Yu is usually pretty quiet around the other villains, so him standing there unreadable though faintly amused by them all is... not out of the ordinary XDD

If you have more to add, please feel free! XD

[writingwife-83]

I think it’s really interesting that according to Adam Driver, even after TLJ they were still sticking with the plan to keep Kylo Ren as a villain to the end. He said his character was still on the same track and in that scenario we’d never have seen “Ben Solo.” Can you imagine? 😟 I mean, yes TROS was a dumpster fire in a lot of ways, but I will always be grateful that they didn’t go the way they almost went. I’m grateful for what we got and for the fact that in some ways you could argue that they’ve now left it open for the possibility of more Ben Solo content.