#i should wait until morning when i am more coherent to post this but whatever

[joy-returns-in-the-morning]

🥺🥺🥺 I just think it would be neat if they were friends.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

#this was soooo hard to draw #pushing microsoft paint to it's uppermost limits.... #i should wait until morning when i am more coherent to post this but whatever #i really wanted to finish this comic #it was just something i had envisioned so clearly in my head... #i had to get it out #doesn't look exactly like in my head but i think the gist gets across #yakuza #zzz i am so tired #okinawa au

[zabiume]

Title: Much Ado About Kissing

Pairing: Ichigo/Orihime

Rating: PG, bordering on T, mild naughty content.

Notes: A bit late, but Happy Valentine’s Day, origos!! This is mostly crack!fic, but it was in my WIPs and I wanted it out there!

It started on a Friday.

Ichigo tapped his pencil against the kitchen counter, eyeing his laptop with a slight frown. Sakamoto, despite being a little out-of-touch and tough around the edges, was one hell of a professor who got Hosseini as much as he did. And as much as Ichigo loved putting on a front, he really did want to impress this guy.

"I think I'm going to stay up for a bit," he announced, working through a yawn as he stretched his arms overhead. "Gotta finish working on this paper."

"Okay," Orihime replied, setting her chocolate wrapper down on the counter as she came up to him. "I'm going to bed, though. Early day at work for me!" She looped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him back against her as she pecked his cheek. "Good luck on your paper."

Ichigo grunted, turning his face so he could get his proper goodnight kiss. Orihime obliged, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth with a small kiss, and laughing softly when he dotted the chocolate crumbs with the tip of his tongue. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped midway when he made a face.

"What?"

"Blech, you taste like mint-chocolate," he complained, reminded of his -- correct -- opinion that there was no greater bastard in the world than the man who decided to add mint to chocolate. Those two things did not go together. He did not care how many cute faces his girlfriend made at him to convince him otherwise; it was simply a fact.

"Honestly, Ichigo," she began, rolling her eyes with the air of someone who had been through this before. "It isn't that bad."

"It tastes like toothpaste," he argued, watching her brows knit together. "It does."

"Well, maybe you don't brush often enough to know what real toothpaste tastes like," she teased, grinning when he rolled his eyes.

He crossed his arms. "Pray tell, Inoue-sama, what does real toothpaste taste like, then?"

"Not mint-chocolate, that's for sure," she chimed, prodding his chest with her index finger. Then, her smile dropped and an exaggerated pout took it's place instead as she trailed her finger up to his lips. "You know, I'm really sad you called me gross."

"To be fair, I called the chocolate gross," he pointed out.

"Well I'm hurt nonetheless and I think it's a crime worthy of punishment," she declared, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Let's see, what should your punishment be?"

Ichigo waited, indulging her dramatics with an amused look. Orihime's "punishments" (if they could be called that) were often the most basic, self-serving things. Like making Ichigo eat the pickles off her sandwich (which he did anyway) or getting him to give her foot massages (which he didn't mind doing). Which was why he was more than surprised when she said,

"I know! You're banned from kissing me for a week!"

He stared, waiting for the punchline.

One...Two...Three...

It never came.

"You're serious," he deadpanned.

"Uh-huh!" she replied cheerfully, bopping him on his nose. "One week, Ichigo. A true test of wills."

He snorted. He'd bet anything this stupid challenge of hers wouldn't last, even though reasoning from previous dares told him Orihime was not one who backed down on her word that easily.

"One week," he agreed. It wasn't like they kissed that often anyway, most of their makeouts reserved for when they were home or not around other people. Besides, Orihime initiated kisses more than he did -- not for a lack of wanting, but rather a lack of courage -- and she'd figure it out soon enough for herself, how ridiculous this was.

Ah, yes. That was good enough reasoning for his burnt-out brain. He smirked. "One week."

Saturday morning

Daylight had broken in early through the window, a perfect morning for a jaunt around the neighbourhood. Hollows had started cropping up in Karakura around the ass crack of dawn lately, so it wouldn't hurt to rise with the sun and ensure all was well before he got on with his day. Beside him, Orihime -- or rather, whatever he could make of her among the lump of blankets -- was still fast asleep, her body rising up and down with her deep breathing. Ichigo rose gingerly, trying not to wake her. He worked the tightness in his back, sleepily ambling to the bathroom as he rubbed his eyes.  

And so the day began, without consequence.

By the time Ichigo stepped out of the shower, Orihime was sitting up in bed, scrolling through her phone. Her eyes were still half-closed, but she seemed awake enough for semi-coherent conversation.

"Yo," he said, sitting down on her side of the bed. "I'm heading out. Need anything from the store?"

She shook her head and yawned, setting her phone aside. "Want me to go with you?"

"No, it should be fine," he said, tucking her blanket under the soft curve of her chin. His eyes fell to her lips. It was obvious enough to anyone that Orihime was pretty, but this early in the morning, she looked downright adorable. He surged forward unthinkingly, making it until his forehead touched hers, when she stopped him with her elbow.

"No can do, mister," she sang, pushing him back slightly. "No kissing for one week, remember?"

Memories of a late night conversation flashed to his mind, and he did indeed recall making such a promise with his coursework-addled brain.

"I didn't think..." He muttered under his breath.

"Didn't think I was serious?" she challenged, hands on her hips. "You should've known by now that I am a woman of my word, Ichigo."

Ichigo swallowed. "Of course," he said, then trailed his finger along the seam of her blanket before meeting her eyes. "Just to be sure, what are the terms of our, uh, challenge?"

Surely she'd let him kiss her cheek. Right?

"No cheeks," she said, flushing slightly. It always felt rather intimate when he kissed her cheek, even though there was nothing remotely scandalous about it. "No fingers either," He bit back a curse, knowing full well she enjoyed knuckle kisses. She paused. "Forehead is fair game?"

"Alright," he agreed easily, leaning forward to press a kiss between her eyebrows.

He pulled back and stood up, stomach feeling oddly empty.

"Be careful," she called out, watching him leave.

He scratched his cheek. "Uh. Yeah."

Shaking his head, he retreated out the door.

Tuesday night

It had been two days.

Ichigo watched as Orihime pinned new post-its onto the chores chart, peeling the previous week's off. She stuck one of the little neon ones on the stub of her nose, then turned to Ichigo. "Look at me, I've got neon snot!"  

He balked. "Listen, Orihime," he called out, eyes following her as she walked back to the kitchen. "This isn't because you're mad at me for what I said the other day, right?"

She stopped in her footsteps, staring at him curiously. "This?"

Ichigo cleared his throat. "The 'no kissing' thing."

Orihime's mouth made a little 'o'. She came up to him, hesitated for a moment, then dropped onto his lap heavily. He let out an 'oof,' but curled his arms around her waist as she locked her own around his neck.

"No," she said simply.

"No?"

"I'm not mad at you," she explained. "I'm just...curious."

His eyebrows raised high. "About?"

She leaned closer, bumping her nose with his teasingly before withdrawing back. "About what you're going to do."

Ichigo flushed, then grumbled, "I'm not gonna forcibly kiss you."

Orihime smiled. "I know, you're so sweet," she said, laughing at his scowl. "But I just wanna know if we can make it. For science."

Ichigo scoffed. "We went to war twice, I think we can survive a week without kissing."

Thursday afternoon

Kurosaki Ichigo, famous last words: "We went to war twice, I think we can survive a week without kissing."

It was the hardest goddamn week of his life. And it was hard for her too, he knew it was. He’d caught her more than once, just staring at his mouth unabashed, with a heat in her gaze that made his toes curl. If this was some sort of foreplay, it was the longest foreplay he’d had to endure in his life. But there was the matter of pride and winning and toughing it out and he’d let Orihime go undefeated at Mario Kart too many times to let this one slip, too.

They weren’t the only ones that noticed the change, however. Tatsuki had caught on, too, staring between them during weekly brunch in confusion when they refused to move as much to sit together, preferring to be on either side of the rounded table. When Ichigo purposefully let a trail of water dribble down his lips and further along the deep vee of his shirt -- and Orihime had squirmed -- she had to ask,

“Okay. What the hell is going on with you two?”

“What do you mean, Tatsuki-chan?” Orihime asked distractedly, licking her bottom lip as her eyes followed the movement of the water droplet. Was Ichigo’s skin glittering? She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze and the way his eyes had darkened was almost sinful. She shrieked. “I need to go to the bathroom, excuse me!”

She booked it out of there without waiting for Tatsuki to respond. Ichigo made to go after her, but Tatsuki pinned his wrist in place on the table to keep him there.

“What, Tatsuki?” he snapped, a dark cloud clustering over his head at his busted plan. He had known the water trick would work, he’d known it!

“Wanna tell me why you and my best friend are being horndogs in broad daylight?” Ichigo flushed, staring down at his nails. Tatsuki shook her head. “Seriously, I thought you guys were serious about the ‘nothing more personal than a handshake in public’ thing.”

“We are,” he insisted. That was before the whole ‘no kissing’ thing. Idly, Ichigo wondered if he was the kind of boyfriend who could make it work in the back of a public restroom.

His face turned a deep scarlet at the unbidden imagery. Definitely not.

“You know what,” Tatsuki said, with a defeated sigh. “I don’t even want to know. I’m gonna go find her, she’s been in there forever.”

“You..you do that,” Ichigo croaked, nodding his head seriously.

Saturday couldn’t arrive any faster.

Friday night, 11:45 p.m

"You’re doing that on purpose.” Ichigo’s eyebrow twitched, watching her smear lip gloss across her bottom lip meticulously. He bounced his knee impatiently, glancing back to the clock every now and then.

“Doing what?” she asked, meeting his eyes innocently through the mirror.

“Wearing the -- that,” he pointed at her silvery stick of lip gloss, before pointing at her butt shorts that said ‘Princess’ across the bottom, “and that.”

Orihime flushed, but revealed nothing as she stubbornly reapplied a coat. “I felt cute.”

“It’s eleven in the night,” he deadpanned, even as he felt warmth running through his veins because she did look cute.”Come here,” he said suddenly, shriveling at how low his voice had gotten.  

“Hmm?” Orihime’s eyes glanced at the clock. He grinned. So she was keeping up with the time, too.

“Come on.” He beckoned her over, setting down the book he was reading to make room for both of them.

“It’s still Friday,” she reminded him warily, even as she walked over to the bed and lifted up the comforter.

“Just want to cuddle,” he said sincerely, resting his head on the pillow as he watched her sideways. Orihime slid in, their knees bumping as they shifted around to make room for each other. He cupped her face and watched as her eyes softened when he smiled.

“How much longer?” she whined quietly, when his thumb rubbed the shell of her ear.

He propped himself on an elbow and glanced over her head. 11:55 p.m.

“Five minutes,” he whispered, coming back down to her.

“Okay.” She ran a hand down his arm, interlocking with his fingers as their foreheads touched. “I love you.”

“Love y’too,” he replied, tracing her plump cheek with his thumb. “Though I still don’t understand why we did this.”

“I thought it was funny.” She smiled, and the goofiness almost had him convinced that it was, in a way. He wondered how he’d ever kept his hands to himself, back when they weren’t dating.

“Some experiment,” he grumbled anyway, just to be trite.

She arched her head around, just as his own eyes lifted to the clock. Seconds now...

“Ichigo,” she said eagerly.

“Yeah,” he replied, breath quickening with anticipation.

11:59....11:59....11:59......Banzai!

They both dived in at once, crashing hard into each other as Orihime’s skull smashed right into Ichigo’s face with a groan.

“Fuck!”

“Owwww....”

They both inched away, Ichigo’s eyes blurring with watery pain while Orihime rubbed the reddening bump on her forehead.

“Orihime...?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you broke my nose.”

“Oh.”

She reached around absently for her pins. Ichigo lunged forward, and curled his hand around her neck gently, stopping her from turning away. When she opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, he dived right in and kissed her.

Some experiment, he thought to himself in broken-nosed glee as she began fervently kissing him back.

#i'd been tired of all the serious fic i'd been churning out lately #ichihime #myfic #i'll never grow tired of the bumping-heads running joke in bleach #might post this on AO3 but kinda just wanna leave it here #happy valentines

[aestheticsfandomsandmore]

In vino (beer) veritas

HE TIAN X MO GUAN SHAN FAN FIC.

Don't expect too much, really: I’m Italian, so I probably made a lot of mistakes (you can report them, I would be glad). There are few descriptions for the same reason and so this story could be a bit repetitive. There is not a proper ending. Maybe I’ll just leave it like this, maybe I’ll continue the fic some other day.

I posted it on AO3 if you want to read it there.

________________________________________

Mo Guan Shan hasn't heard from He Tian since the previous evening. Almost twenty hours have passed and he hasn't come to school. He's a bit worried, if he has to be honest with himself. The damn guy hasn't even texted to annoy him with random stuff, while he usually doesn't let him breath without interfering.

So Mo goes to his house. He's embarrassed, he's mad at himself for his dumb choice, he has no idea how to justify that choice to He Tian, especially when he's so damn sure the guy will give him a smirk and start assuming things, like that he cares about him. Whether it is true or not, Mo would always deny it until the end of times.

Still, the door of his loft is right there in front of him and he knocks, hoping for an answer so that he can stop worrying for that asshole.

However, the moment He Tian opens it, he only worries more and more.

The tall boy, always so handsome, with fucking perfect hair and fancy clothes, is now looking like he just jumped out of a hurricane: his shirt is wrinkled, the zip of his jeans is down (don't look, don't look, don't look), his dark hair are disheveled and his eyes are red and wide open.

“Ehy little Mo~ Wha-What ya doing here?” he asks him, so visibly confused that Mo wouldn't be surprised if he just fainted, right where he was.

“Stupid, what... what are you up to, what's goin' on?”

“Little Mo is worried about me?” even in that state he still manages to grin and to sound annoying.

“Move” Mo orders and the moment he gets in the loft he feels a bit shocked: a bunch of empty bottles of beer (at least five or six) are lying on the floor. He Tian is drunk. He turns back and looks at him. “Ohi, what is all of this about?”

He Tian closes the door and chaoticly walks toward the table before sitting on a chair. He laughs. “What do you mean?”

Is he fucking with me or what? Mo thinks, almost getting agry. “Why did you drink so much? Are you okay?”

“Suuure thing.”

Mo sighs. How much patience must he have with this guy?

“Okay. Let’s go to bed, shall we?” Mo Guan Shan reminds himself of how the doctors spoke to him when he happened to be in a hospital: like the things he was about to do were going to be a group thing or shit like that. He tries the same with He Tian, hoping it will work.

He Tian lets Mo putting his arm under his own armpit and then puts his around his neck, but it’s more like he’s grabbing it, like he’s trying to hold on to him.

“Okay, we’re moving.” Mo says and meanwhile counts more carefully the bottles of beer the idiot has drunk: eight. Eight fucking bottles. What the hell was wrong with him?

He carries He Tian to his bedroom and puts him under his sheets, but the right moment he tries to walk away the other boy clutches his wrists and pushes him to the bed as well.

“Ohi, the fuck-”

“Stay here for a while, c’mon~ You came all the way to my flat juuuust...” he seems to be struggling with making a coherent phrase. “... just to leave immediately?”

He can’t really say he is wrong, but he doesn’t want to stay either. “You’re wasted. I didn’t certainly come to babysit you.”

“You don’t have... to do... anything... just stay.”

He looks so weak and vulnerable, so different from his usual self.

He won’t remember anything anyway tomorrow, Mo thinks. “Whatever.”

He stays. He lays down on his right side and stares at He Tian. His eyes are closed but he is smiling. “Nice” he says, clearly happy he is going to stay.

“Why... why were you drinking so much?”

He Tian doesn’t answer. Mo almost thinks he fell asleep, but then he says: “I really want to kiss you.”

Mo winces. “What the bloody hell-”

“I won’t kiss you. Don’t you worry.” He Tian promises, his eyes still closed.

“Of course you won’t you chicken-”

“I don’t want you to cry again.”

Mo baffles. His heart starts ricing faster and faster. “What...?”

He Tian opens his eyes and looks at him with no smile of any sort. “You freaked out last time I kissed you.”

Mo blushes and gets furious. “Yeah - and whose fault is that?”

“Mine.” He Tian answers immediately. “I know it’s mine. I- I know.”

“Good.” Guan Shan says, but he’s actually pretty surprised He Tian admitted it so easily. He expected him to mock him and start making jokes about how he reacted back then. 

They stay silent for a while. Then He Tian asks: “Am I... still... disgusting to you?” His voice is so low and depressed Mo could almost burst into tears.

“I-” he swallows, super nervous. That was uncertain territory for him. Such honesty from He Tian demanded just as much from him as well. “No. You are not.”

He Tian looks relieved. “Really?”

“Yeah. Actually... you never were.”

Now he looks shocked. “You didn’t mean it?”

“I meant it when I said it” Mo replies. “I was fucking infuriated, He Tian.” Now he’s getting angry again, just by the thought of that moment. He felt so ashamed he just wanted to disappear from the face of the Earth. “But... I never really thought you were a disgusting person, I just thought you did a disgusting thing.”

“I get that” He Tian says. “I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have forced you. Sorry.”

An apology, Mo thinks. He Tian apologised before, but always with a smart smirk on his face or his hands on Mo’s body - never sounded very convincing. Now he is talking from the bottom of his heart and Mo believes him. “Okay. Apologies accepted.”

He Tian smiles. 

Mo smiles as well. He won’t remember any of this. He caresses his cheek with his thumb and He Tian shudders, almost as he punched him in the face. He stops immediatly, realizing what he was doing. “Okay. Now get some sleep, idiot.”

“Will you wait for me to fall asleep?”

He sounds like a kid. He was never good with kids. Way easier to go along with their insanity rather than question it. “Whatever. Now sleep.”

-

The morning after, the hangover is right there waiting for him to wake up in the most embarrassing way possible. His knees are pushing against his arms, his toes are crisscrossed, he smells like shit and he probably looks even worst. But none of this matters the moment he understands Mo is sleeping right next to him. 

His first thought is that he’s still dreaming. It has to be a dream. Mo never stayed over the night and even if he managed to make him do that Mo would have never slept in his bed. Too risky. 

But it takes him just a few moments to realize he’s not dreaming at all. He gets up, way too quickly - his head hurts. “Shit”. He goes to the bathroom and takes a cold shower. He wears something clean and takes his time to get back in the bedroom, scared that he just imagined things and he won’t find Mo in his sheets just where he left him. But he does. He’s still there. 

He Tian smiles and takes a moment to appreciate that scenario, wishing it would happen again and again, every morning, preferably after a night of rough sex and sweet cuddles. Or just sex. Or just cuddles. Anything, literally anything to have Little Mo in his bed as often as possible.

“Ehy, Sleeping Beauty, rise and shine~” he pats his head and ruffles his hair, foreshadowing a bad reaction coming from the boy. 

It comes. Guan Shan slaps his hand and gets up, a bit uncomfortable, and then rubs his eyes, still sleepy. “’Morning dick head.”

He Tian grins. “Is there an actual explanation for which you slept in my bed? Not that I’m complaining.”

“I see you went back to yourself” Mo replies, annoyed. 

He Tian doesn’t say anything. Went back to himself? What did that mean? “Uhm... what?” he asks, trying to sound entertained. 

“You don’t remember, do you?”

Okay, now he’s feeling a bit scared. What did he do? What did he say? “What should I remember? Did we have fun last night?”

“If you find funny getting wasted and unable to walk on your own towards your fucking bedroom, then yes, it was massive fun.”

He Tian laughs. He expected way worst. “Okay, so you took care of me, Little Mo~?” 

He draws closer to him, but Mo stops his approach by grabbing his wrists and says: “I didn’t plan to stay the night, but since I did... I guess we should talk.”

Talk? Like, a proper chat? Offered by Mo? Was the world about to end? “Uhm, okay? What do you want to talk about? Our future together?”

“Can you be serious for one fucking second?”

He Tian blinks. What the fuck happened last night? “Sure.”

He lays down on the bed waiting for Mo Guan Shan to do the same. He stares at him and then sits. “I- I have some questions for you. And then, if you have any questions... for me... I’ll answer. I mean, I’ll try, at least.”

He is palpably nervous and the way he’s speaking is a total surprise: things like that never happen between the two of them; it’s always He Tian the one who brings up more weighty topics for them to discuss. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Last night you told me...” Mo lowers his head, “that you’d like to kiss me.” He blushes.

He Tian is not surprised at all. “Well, is that a brand new information for you?”

“Cut the sarcastic crap out, thanks.” 

“I’m not being sarcastic! I mean it: was it honestly shocking for you?”

Mo still doesn’t look at him in the eye, but he shakes his head. 

“So what’s the question?”

“I was going to ask you if that were true, since you were drank, but apparently it was.”

“Yeah. What else?”

“You also told me that you won’t kiss me, even if you want to, because you’re... basically scared of my reaction. Is this true?”

Okay, he didn’t see this coming. “I-” he needs to think before answering. “I... kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“It’s just- I want to be sure you want that too.” He really means that. He never said that aloud. He never admitted that truth to himself. Heʼs waiting for someone’s permission to do what he wants. It is a weird and new concept for him. He knows that, being a kiss something that involves two people, it should just be normal to ask before doing anything. But he isn’t used to, anyway. 

“You never seemed particularly interested in what I wanted.”

Now, that sentence gets him mad. “Look at me.” he orders.

Mo does that and he looks more confident than ever. He’s almost proud to see him like that.

“What’s the point of this?”

“Wait. I have another question.”

He Tian rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

“You apologised. For what you did. And... you asked me if I still thought you were disgusting.”

He Tian would blush if he wasn’t the way he is. “And what did you answer?”

“I- Wait, did you mean it?”

“Uhm?”

“Do you actually feel sorry for what you did?”

“I apologised to you when I was sober as well, did you forget?”

“You never apologised for something specific.”

He Tian is getting impatient, but he still says: “I’m not sorry to have kissed you, I’m sorry I made you cry.”

That answer makes Mo mad - well, of course it does. “I cried because you kissed me. Because you’re a piece of shit.”

“Call me what you want” he is getting heated as well, “but you didn’t cry because I kissed you: you cried because I didn’t ask you and you were surprised and you didn’t want to accept that you liked me. You still don’t, by the way.”

Mo tries to punch him but He Tian’s faster and blocks him right away, switching positions and standing onto him on the bed. 

“You have no idea what’s going on inside my head! You shit head, you have no right to tell me why I was crying!” 

Mo screams, trying to free himself, but He Tian is holding his wrists with his hand and impeding his movements with his legs. 

“Okay, hey, chill, calm down, please.”

It takes a while for Mo to actually stop moving. He grumbles and bites his lips. He Tian lets go of his right wrist to make him stop, touching his mouth very gently. “Don’t ruin it” he whispers. 

Mo blushes and turns his head. 

“I shouldn’t have kissed you like that - I’m sorry.”

Mo blinks and looks at him doubtful and hesitant. 

“But now let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot it.”

“Why are you doing this? You could have just made up an excuse for staying here the night, as always, relying on the fact that I forgot everything. Why didn’t you?”

Mo observed him for a while and then said: “I- I wanted to know the truth.”

“The truth?“

“Yeah.”

“Little Mo, you asked him if I wanted to kiss you, which you already know I do, you asked me if I was sorry, which I had already said I am, and you wanted me to confirm a sentence which I pronounced when I was drunk - and so, completely honest.” 

Mo looks pissed. “Listen, it wasn’t all this clear to me when I decided to talk to you, okay? You don’t have to play Mister I know-it-all, you’re already annoying enough.”

He Tian laughs. “Whatever.” He lets go of the other wrist and moves his legs away, still remaining on top of him. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

Mo seems confused. “Which one?”

“Am I still disgusting to you?” he asks this with a tiny grin, but he’s actually desperate for an honest answer. He knows Mo doesn’t find him disgusting, but to hear him saying it is a totally different story.

Guan Shan snorts. “No, you are not. Happy now?”

He Tian smiles. “Very.”

“Asshole.”

They stay like this for some time. He Tian is almost leaning towards his lips, when Mo interrupts the silence. “Oh, right! Why the fuck did you drink eight bottles of beer?”

#19 days #fan fiction #19 days fic #19 days fan fiction #he tian x mo guanshan #he tian x mo guan shan #mo guan shan #he tian #tianshan #tianshan fanfic #old xian #my fic #i'm italian so please forgive me #i know this probably sucks

[catrasredemption-moved]

I'm really struggling and hurting with what's going on in the fandom right now as im losing the only comfort i had in quarantine. could you please write something happy post-s5 catradora based on noelle's statement that once Adora realises she's in love with Catra she'd be SO into the reslationship?

((I get you, Nonners <3 *hugs* Again, white af, so I’m going to limit my comments, but - it isn’t all downhill from here. Try not to give up)) (((Disclaimer it’s almost 4am and my sleeping meds are kicking in, so I’m sorry if this isn’t completely coherent)))

Adora had never half-assed anything in her life.

And she’d be damned if she was going to start now, at a time when being fully on her game was more important than ever.

“I just want to do something for her!”

Bow practically had hearts in his eyes. Glimmer was a little less impressed. “I’m pretty sure if you just stayed in bed and napped together all day, she’d be happy.”

“I know, I know.” Adora sighed. “But that’s not - I want to do something good. Like, really show her that I love her.”

“Take a vacation.”

“Glimmer!”

“What? I’m serious,” Glimmer insisted. “If you just like... took an entire week off to do nothing but spend time with her, she’d probably be speechless. Which I would pay to see, by the way.”

Adora frowned, thinking it over. It was true that Catra would probably be floored by Adora taking a week off, no need for She-Ra or anything, just for her.

“I don’t know. Do you think it’s enough? What should we do? What do people do on vacation?”

“You could just travel?” Bow suggested. “You know, get as far from Bright Moon as you can then call Glimmer for a ride back or something when you’re done.”

It was... actually a good idea, Adora thought. They’d spent their whole lives in the Fright Zone wondering what was beyond the Whispering Woods. They could actually see things now. They could see a world full of magic!

The happy thoughts died almost as quickly as they had started. “I... I dunno. I mean, it sounds great, but that would take more than a week, and-”

“Take a month,” Glimmer encouraged. “Take six months, honestly. You guys saved the universe. If anyone’s earned time off, it’s you.”

“That’s a lot of time.”

“And you’ve earned it,” Bow assured her. “Maybe not six months - I mean, you should take six months but I know that would drive you nuts. But take a month. Go places. Spend time together. I think it’d be good for you guys.”

Adora chewed on her thumbnail for a moment before slowly nodding and smiling. “Yeah. Okay.”

This whole thing had started with Catra not feeling like a priority in Adora’s life, after all. A month together would be the perfect way to show Adora she was invested and she cared. Perfect. * * * * * * * * * * * * Catra didn’t get back to Bright Moon that night. “Your cat passed out on my couch,” Mermista informed Adora flatly, turning the screen so Adora could see Catra curled up in a tight ball, sleeping.

“Is she... okay?”

“She’s dumb. Sea Hawk found her almost sick with heat stroke and had to drag her away from the house she was working on.”

Adora’s heart jumped to her throat. “She’s... She’s really trying hard to help with Salineas.”

“And I appreciate it,” Mermista admitted in a rare moment of genuine honesty. “But I’ll appreciate it less if she kills herself in the process. If she’s going to die, I should at least get the first shot.”

“Glimmer can come get her, if you want.”

“Nah, she already feels like hell. She can sleep it off on the couch.”

Adora scrubbed her eyes, smiling weakly. “Thanks, Mermista. Sorry, I guess I should’ve warned you, she gets really intense when she actually puts effort into things.”

“She’s not someone I would’ve pegged for a workaholic. Want me to wake her up to say... I dunno, good night or whatever you guys say to each other?”

“Nah, let her sleep.” Adora wanted Catra home, wanted to talk to her about a vacation, but she was sleeping, and that was more important than anything. She’d been exhausting herself for nearly a month working on Salineas. And while it was earning her some begrudging tolerant will with Mermista (who firmly believed actions were better than any apology Catra could ever say), Adora was worried. A vacation would really do her some good. * * * * * * * * * * * * Glimmer and Adora went to Salineas the next morning to get Catra. They thought it was reasonable to assume she was still sleeping off the heat stroke at the palace.

“Nope, she took off before I woke up,” Mermista said flatly when they found her. “Sea Hawk tried to find her, but he’s not exactly subtle about it, so she probably had plenty of time to hide.”

“Great.” Adora sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll... track her down.”

“Tell her if she’s going to keel over to get out of my kingdom. She can die on Bright Moon’s turf.”

“Tell her not to die,” Glimmer added.

“Yes, and yes.”

Mermista pointed Adora in the direction of where they’d found Catra yesterday. She approached a half built house, quietly climbing up the ladder at the side and finding Catra working on the roofing.

“Seriously?” she asked, resting her arms on the edge of the roof. Catra looked up, surprised.

“What?”

She looked exhausted, her face flushed red. Adora sighed. “Are you coming home any time soon?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She went back to work, distracted. “Sorry, I dunno what happened yesterday.”

“You made yourself sick working in the sun all day.”

“Sea Hawk overreacted.” Catra waved Adora off. “He’s just scared you’d kill him if you found he let me overwork myself.”

“Sooooo you’re admitting it?”

“No, that’s just his logic.”

Adora shook her head. “Come on, take the day off and come home. I wanna talk to you about something.”

“I really need to finish this.”

There was a weird moment where Adora thought she understood how Catra had felt for years. Catra had been working nonstop on Salineas for a month, and Adora was starting to feel a little ignored.

But she also understood Catra’s side. She took a deep breath, hauling herself up onto the roof and crawling over to Catra, gently putting her hand on Catra’s and stopping the hammer. “Hey. I get it, okay? But you’re not responsible for fixing all of Salineas.”

“Actually, I kind of am,” Catra replied bitterly. She was far too warm for it to be comfortable.

“I���m pretty sure Hordak could stand to take a little more responsibility than he has.” Adora couldn’t help but be a bit bitter about that. He had mostly stayed in Dryl, working with Entrapta on tech that would help with the rebuilding process. And that was great and all, but it wasn’t much compared to Catra being out here every day working herself half to death.

Catra let out a long sigh, finally relaxing her hand. “I just... need to do this, Adora. Okay?”

“I get that, but you don’t need to do it at the expense of your own health. And yes, I know I’m a hypocrite. But I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Adora squeezed her hand. “And that’s okay. Have you eaten anything?”

“No.” The honesty was nice.

“Did you skip eating because you felt sick?” Catra nodded. “Okay. So... you can leave with me, or Mermista can wash you out to sea so you don’t die in her kingdom.”

Catra looked around, and sighed, finally nodding. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Getting her back to solid ground was a bit dicey, but she held herself up and managed to walk back to the palace without much help.

“She lives,” Mermista said dryly when they arrived back at the palace. Glimmer smiled, although she couldn’t hide her worry.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine.” Catra smothered a yawn, scrubbing her eyes.

“Picture of health all right,” Mermista deadpanned. “Look, you built like, an entire neighborhood on your own. Come back when you’re not burning up.”

Glimmer rested a hand on Catra’s shoulder, wincing when she felt the heat radiating off of her. Adora took a moment to whisper, “Thank you for taking care of her,” to Mermista. The princess shrugged.

“Yeah, you know. Whatever.”

Catra was not happy with the teleport back to Bright Moon. Glimmer put them close enough to the bed so she could drop straight onto it, groaning. Good luck, the queen mouthed before disappearing. Adora went to the bathroom, wet a washcloth with cold water, and returned to the bed, resting the cloth on the back of Catra’s neck. She shivered.

“Cold.”

“Yes, because you’re burning hot.” Adora settled in next to her. “So, I had an idea, and I already know you’re going to argue with it, but hear me out.” Catra hummed in affirmation. “I was thinking we should take some time off. You and me. I was thinking traveling, but now I’m thinking maybe go visit Frosta and spend a week in the snow.”

“Oh hell no,” Catra muttered. “I am not going anywhere with snow. That’s where I draw the line.”

“But you’re agreeing to the vacation?”

“I dunno.” Catra raised her head. “When? Can it wait until Salineas is-”

“No.” Adora gently clasped Catra’s face in her hands. “I know this is hard for you, but you can’t hurt yourself trying to fix things. That won’t accomplish anything, and nobody wants to see you hurting, not even Mermista.”

Catra looked ready to argue, but something in her expression flickered. “You’re willing to take time off just to do nothing?”

“Not nothing. To spend time with you. We can hold each other accountable. You keep me strapped down, and I’ll lie on top of you to make sure you don’t run off to Salineas.”

Tears slowly filled Catra’s eyes, and Adora panicked for a moment before Catra spoke. “You’d... really take time off to spend time with me?”

“Of course.” Adora kissed her gently. “I love you, Catra. And I know we’ve been through a lot and done a lot that doesn’t really... support that, and I want to prove it now. And I want to take care of you.”

The moment of silence between them was comfortable. The same silence they could have spent hours in at one point in their lives. “I love you too,” Catra finally murmured. “Maybe taking some off to spend together wouldn’t be so bad. If only to see you try and relax.”

“Ha. Ha.” Adora grabbed the washcloth and began gently wiping Catra’s face. “Glimmer gave us a month, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy if we want to take more. Let’s start with getting you better, then we can figure out what we want to do from there. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Catra snuggled into Adora’s chest, taking a deep breath. “That sounds good.”

It had worked. Adora couldn’t believe it. “So uh... I’m doing this relationship thing pretty good, huh?”

Catra snorted, reaching up to push her face away. “Get over yourself.”

#catradora #catradora fic #Mystery Person #Sam Answers #askbox fic

[passable-talent]

Hi yes so I just finished the anakin punk au and it was uh perfect? And you should 100% please write more in that au it doesn’t even have to be in some coherent storyline, just more punk anakin please I am hooked

say no more my dear

I write this. and I think to myself “punks. they like weed. they drink. I should talk about that.”

and then I don’t. because I have a,,, responsibility to promote good health I guess?

don’t do drugs kids. most of them arent worth it i promise

and yes just like i mentioned wattpad in the last one tumblr is coming up on this one we’re breaking the FUCKING fourth wall

part one here

You passed out on his shoulder, exactly as he predicted, at about 2:00 AM.

He didn’t notice for a few minutes, and once he had, he had to make a very hard decision. 

He knew you were leaving in the morning, you had other places to be. And he had to get home, Cliegg was going to be pissed he’d been out this late as it was. But- just like you, he never wanted the night to end.

At 2:15, he shimmied out from under you, finding your room key quickly. Once he’d slipped it into his pocket, he picked you up, carrying you all the way back to your room. The door seemed to scream as it opened, but none of the girls were awake. He laid you onto the only empty bed, leaving your room key on the dresser, and kneeled at your beside, for just a moment. 

A night he wasn’t going to forget. One he wasn’t willing to leave behind. 

He found the notepad left by the hotel for guests and its nearby pen, scribbling his phone number onto it before smacking it onto your room key so that he knew you’d see it. 

He wasn’t taking any chances. He did everything he could to make sure that you were safe, that you’d sleep soundly, that he’d see you again. It was a bit of a walk back to where he’d left his car, at the venue, but it was worth it- he shrugged his jacket up around his neck against the cold and kept going, remembering how it’d felt to hold you. 

But, in all of his kindness, he had made one mistake. You didn’t get to say goodbye. 

You woke up in the hotel room the next morning, for a moment thinking that maybe you’d dreamed the whole thing. But then you realized you still had your shoes on, and you were laying on top of the sheets, why the hell would I do that, and you phone hadn’t been plugged in, and- 

And there was a phone number on the dresser. 

You weren’t really ‘dating’- you shouldn’t call it that. If you were going to call it that, then there would inevitably be a post on someone’s tumblr that you had a boyfriend, and who was he, where was he from, yada yada... that damn website already had half the internet convinced you were dating Padme, you didn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire. 

So no, you weren’t dating. But you were texting every day. You learned so much about him, about how he was raised by his mom and worked at her friend Watto’s auto shop, about his step-brother and future step-sister-in-law, how his mom died when he was nineteen, about how he’d tried to move to California with his friend Obi-Wan a few years ago, but it fell through. In return, you told him about your life- living in the outskirts of San Francisco, being pushed into ballet lessons as a kid (as he said- ‘that’s why you look weightless on stage!’), being cut out from your family for quitting college to pursue music. 

You texted every day and every night, sent him videos from gigs, and he sent dumb little snapchats from underneath whatever car he was working on. You expected that to be it, probably for a long time- neither of you had the money nor the time to see each other more often. So you held onto the connection you had, the night you’d spent together. 

And you thought that’d be it. But- the universe has a funny way of surprising you. 

Your record label was based in LA, so you lived in Salta Ana, about thirty miles away, where the real estate was way cheaper. The band lived together, close as four friends could be, so they knew all about how you’d fallen for Anakin. Ahsoka would notice you glued to your phone, and ask snarkily “texting skyguy?” to which you always scolded her that his name was Skywalker. 

Living so close to LA made it easy to do gigs at any venue that would take you- bars, clubs, a particularly anarchist biker hall. A bar- such was the case for tonight. 

Like usual with a gig like this, Aayla had taken to instagram and called any fan in the area, so the bar was mostly filled with people who knew the music, but there were regulars, too. People who couldn’t be damned to listen to the lyrics, and just let the atmosphere move them. 

The setlist changed, when you were at a place like this. You didn’t necessarily rely on the hundred voice chorus that you loved so much, and so couldn’t include some of those songs. Your music strayed a little more to the rock end of the spectrum, when you played in places like this. With that high energy came faster music, more running around the stage, more movement, but you weren’t tired, when the set ended at 11:25. You were more energized than usual, in fact.

“Pads, I’ve never heard you solo like that!” You said, a bright smile on your face as you pushed out of the employee entrance of the bar. She gave you thanks, but not a moment later stopped dead, not saying a word, staring at you. You paused, looking at her, then Ahsoka and Aayla, who’d both stopped, too. 

“What?” Ahsoka and Aayla, though, were looking at something past you, which made you realize that Padme was, too. You turned, and leaning against the wall was- was Anakin. 

“Oh my god,” you said under your breath, dropping into a run toward him immediately. “Anakin!” He shoved himself off of the wall, letting you run into his arms, and just held you. You pulled away to look at him, amazed that after months, here he was, right in front of you, real. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, bewildered, surprised, ecstatic. 

“Visiting Obi-Wan,” he said, and he lifted his hand to your face, giving you a good look at that tattoo you hadn’t quite forgotten, dark lines reaching from his elbow to his palm. 

“And you,” he added. You couldn’t help it- you hadn’t seen him in so long, you couldn’t help the way you leaned into it when he pulled you into a kiss, and this time you weren’t exhausted, and you could let yourself feel it, you could pay attention to his chapped lips and the way he slid them over yours, still soft, even after waiting in the cold. You never wanted to leave this moment, like so many of the others that you spent with him, his hands on your face keeping away the January air. 

“Yeah, I’m heading home,” Ahsoka said, making you break the kiss. “Coming, or not?” You looked back at her with a bit of a glare, letting Anakin’s hands fall to your neck. 

“You guys go ahead,” you said, checking your jacket pocket for the essentials- wallet, phone, house keys. “I think I have a tradition to uphold.” 

The bar you’d played at tonight was a bit far away from the place you wanted to take Anakin, but you didn’t mind the walk, since it was with him. You’d been texting every day, and yet it felt different, there was so much more to talk about now. 

Apparently, Anakin hadn’t seen Obi-Wan since he’d left to move to LA, so it was a visit to an old friend as much as it was an excuse to see you again. 

“So you’re staying with him?” You asked, leading him by the arm down the street. 

“Yeah,” he said, hooking his elbow into yours, which let him keep his hands in his pockets. “He’s got an apartment in east LA, it’s got a nice couch.”

“East LA, not bad. What’s he do?” 

“He’s a talent manager, actually. Went to business school and everything.” Anakin paused, suppressing a chuckle. “He told me that he’d love to represent you, if you didn’t already have someone.” 

“Sadly, we do,” you said, playful, “but I’ll keep him in mind.” 

You’d pretend it was the winter chill that brought the flush to your cheeks- he’d told his friend about you. That had to mean you were important to him, right?

“Where are we heading, anyway?” He asked, and you, luckily, could channel your inner dramatic and turn toward the doorway you’d been heading toward all along. 

“Right here,” you said, and you took him inside. 

This was your recording studio- it was always open, so that any artist could stop in and get out whatever creativity they had. You showed your ID card to the lobby clerk, who approved it and called the elevator. Anakin followed your lead until the door closed, and just like you had on the night you met him, you pressed the button for the highest floor. 

“This is one of the buildings for our record company,” you said, the elevator so familiar. 

“Which would explain why he let you in,” Anakin said, a slight teasing tone to his voice. All you could do was chuckle, waiting for the elevator to reach the top floor.

From there, you lead him to a glass door, and swiped your ID card through a reader near its frame so you could step outside. 

“This is the rooftop set,” you said, gesturing to the wide space, “It’s where we film a lot of music videos.” This close to the door, it was hard to see over the side of the building, and so you took Anakin’s hand.

“The city lights keep us from stargazing,” you said with a smile, and brought him to the guardrail at the edge of the roof. “So I thought I’d show you the city’s version of the night sky.” Looking out across the city, there were a thousand orange sparkles, windows illuminated in buildings stretching as far as the eye could see. Criss-crossed between them were lines of red and white, LA traffic clogging the city streets even so late at night. 

No matter how many times you came up here, you’d never get tired of the view. Fifty-five stories up, there were other buildings that dwarfed this tower, but the west was free of them, so your view to the horizon was clear, even in the LA overcast. 

“Wow,” he said, looking out over it all beside you. “I’ve never- I don’t think I’ve ever been up this high.” You fixed him with a surprised expression, leaning your elbows down onto the banister. 

“No? Really?”

“I didn’t grow up in a city, like you,” he said, settling in beside you, his arm pressed to yours. You let your head rest onto his shoulder, remembering the night you met. 

“I’m glad you came out to LA,” you said, “though I’m hoping you’ll stay a while. I  want to go on an actual date with you.” You heard him exhale.

“You don’t call this a date?” he asked, and you lifted your head, looking at him, the lights of the city giving his face the slightest, golden glow. 

“Well, I mean-” If this was a date, then so had been the one after the show, back in October. Which meant this was your second date, and you’d technically been ‘dating’ this whole time, which kinda made him your- boyfriend? 

“Is it?” Anakin slipped his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together.

“This is better than any dinner and movie we could’ve gone to, I think.” He turned over your hand, tracing his first finger over the skyline tattoo that bisected your forearm. “Especially since it seems like this means a lot to you.” You couldn’t believe he’d noticed that tattoo- it meant he really was paying attention to you. 

“Yeah,” you said with a smile, lifting your arm up, his hand still held in yours, aligning the tattoo with the skyline you were looking at. “I got this done after we did our first video.” Silently, he examined the ink and compared it to the sky, seeing what you meant. 

“That’s really cool,” he said, bringing your hand back down, since his fingers were getting cold in the wind, and he had to assume yours were too. 

“How long are you going to be in town?” You asked, resting your temple down onto his shoulder again. 

“A week, or so. Watto says he needs me to work on a mustang that we’re getting- I think Cliegg told him to say that since he doesn’t want me in the city.” 

“Well, I don’t want to undermine your dad,” you said, “But I wouldn’t complain if you stayed here a lot longer than that.” You ran your thumb over the back of his hand. “It’s really nice to actually have you with me, and not over the phone.” Anakin turned to kiss the top of your head.

“Tell me about it. It’s worse for me, I promise- I listen to your music all the time, and it just makes me want to see you.” 

“Sometimes I forget that you were once just a fan,” you said with a laugh, “listening to our music.” 

“The luckiest one in the world,” Anakin added, and you almost wondered how you’d ever lived without him. 

You let a moment pass, in silence. 

“I’m twenty five,” you started, wondering if you had the courage to finish, “do you think I’m too young to be in love?” Anakin didn’t respond, at first. He turned to you, lifting his furthest hand to your face, making you look up at him. You could never get over those blue eyes- you’d forgotten how intense they were. 

“I guess it depends on the guy,” Anakin said, his teeth quickly catching his lower lip. “Do you think you are?” You reached up past his arm to his face, your first finger tracing his eyebrow before your palm came to rest on the ridge of his cheekbone.

“No,” you said, and you rushed forward to meet his lips. 

-🦌 Roe

#reader insert #imagines #anakin x reader insert #star wars anakin #anakin imagine #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #punk!anakin #singer!reader #modern au #musician au #star wars #fics

[hotpinkhoshi]

the pact | epilogue

pairing: jinyoung x reader

genre: romance, smut, a lil angst

warnings: unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), pure sugary sweet FLUFF

word count: 5.4k

summary: you desperately need to get over your decade-long crush on lim jaebeom, and your close friend jinyoung needs to get over his ex—so the two of you make an arrangement: just sex, no feelings. what could go wrong?

a/n: wow, you have no idea just how excited i am to finally post this! i can’t believe it’s finally over, and i just want to thank you guys so much for how sweet you’ve been to me along the way. i really hope you all enjoy the epilogue, please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think about the ending! 

a special thanks to kat @listlessmaenads​ and nik @jinyoungmoans​ for making sure this doesn’t suck 😘

↳ index here

It turned out, Jinyoung was a pretty great boyfriend. 

He showed his love every day, often not through words but through his actions. He texted you first thing in the morning, wishing you a good day at work because he woke up at dawn for his workout—like a crazy person. 

He called you on his lunch breaks if he couldn’t visit you at the store, and even surprised you with takeout from your favorite restaurant on one particularly rough day.

He was a true gentleman. 

Too much of a gentleman, to be frank. 

You’d gone on three dates already, and each and every one of them had ended with an innocent kiss at your door. Nothing more. It was driving you insane. 

The closest you’d gotten had been your third and most recent date, when you’d gone for ice cream and a movie. During the movie, he had kissed you breathless, despite the film playing on the screen in front of you. But as soon as you’d lifted the arm rest to climb onto his lap, he’d pulled away from your eager lips. 

“Not here,” he’d whispered to you, leading you to believe maybe, he’d want to come inside when he walked you to your door. Yet that night had ended like all of the others. 

But tonight—you would make sure tonight was different. 

Jinyoung invited you over so that he could make dinner for you, and to you, this seemed like the perfect chance. 

You knew he wanted you, and he was just being polite, but you needed him. It wasn’t the sex you missed, not completely at least. You missed the intimacy. Being close to him, as close as two people could be, stealing each other’s breath, skin to skin. 

You’d worn a dress you knew he’d like. Not particularly short or revealing, but snug in all the right places. You wanted to remind him of what was underneath the fabric, all of the skin that was his to kiss and worship. Your hair was pulled up, revealing the back of your neck, a spot he loved to kiss. 

Whatever game he was playing, it would end tonight. You’d make sure of it. 

You clutched the baking pan in your fingers as you waited for Jinyoung to answer the door, fingers tapping impatiently against the glass. 

He only made you wait a few more seconds before he was opening the door, a sweet smile on his lips until he took in your appearance. His smile faltered, eyes raking down your frame until they filled with a darkness you’d been craving. 

“Hi,” you said innocently, extending your arms to offer him the dish in your hands. “I made dessert.” 

Jinyoung coughed, eyes shooting up from your exposed thighs to your face. “Dessert? Uh…” he blinked a few times, then seemed to snap himself out of it enough to form coherent words. “Great. Good. Come in.” 

Taking the pan from you, he welcomed you into his apartment. You could practically feel the heat coming from his gaze as you bent down to unfasten the straps of your heels so that you could slip your shoes off. 

“What did you make? It smells amazing,” you said, straightening up and turning towards him. Jinyoung was clutching the baking dish so tightly his knuckles were going white. 

“Carbonara. What’s… what’s this?” he asked. 

“Banana bread,” you answered. 

You’d dedicated the whole day to finding the best recipe, one that you could follow without too much difficulty, and hopefully not screw up. You hadn’t been able to taste test it, but it had smelled good while it was baking, and you figured that was a good sign. 

Jinyoung’s lips lifted into a smile, no doubt remembering the disastrous assignment from high school that had ended up hard as a rock and nearly caused you to fail the class. 

“I’m impressed,” he replied. “Come on, it’s ready now.” 

Over the next few minutes, Jinyoung visibly relaxed, less focused on your curves in your dress and more on the act of serving you dinner and pouring the wine.

It was so similar, yet so different to the first time Jinyoung had invited you over for a meal. At the time, you’d come over for the sex, but ended up having a really great meal and even better conversations. 

He’d gone as far as to light a candle at the table and set some roses in a vase. Simple as it seemed, it was a level of effort you’d never received from any other man. And the food was incredible, too. 

“You need to teach me how to cook,” you told him. “It’s not fair.”

Jinyoung chuckled, reaching up to wipe a drop of sauce off of your chin. “I can do that. Even though this really isn’t that complicated…” 

“Oh, trust me, I’d find a way to ruin it,” you admitted, finishing up your last bite. “But I want to be able to make something delicious for you.” 

“You’re delicious enough on your own, babe,” Jinyoung replied, though the look on his face told you he knew just how cringeworthy it was before the statement even left his mouth.

You winced, inhaling through your teeth. “Yikes.” 

“I’m so sorry. It just came out,” he said, and you noticed the tips of his ears turning pink. 

“Well,” you started, wiping at the corners of your mouth with your napkin. “At least I know you’re just as smooth as you’ve always been.” 

Jinyoung’s face turned into an expression of mock offense. “Hey, I’m very smooth. In fact, I’ve been saving all of my most romantic moves just for you. Exhibit A,” he said, gesturing to the candlelit dinner in front of you. 

You couldn’t help but to snort, though you conceded with a nod. “You’re right. This is really nice. Is there an exhibit B?” You wiggled your eyebrows.

Licking his lips, Jinyoung shrugged. “Maybe. But first, we need to try your dessert,” he suggested, though when he stood to clear your plates he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips that took all the air from your lungs. 

Half of you wanted to say screw it, grab him and drag him back to the bedroom. But that wouldn’t be very romantic, and you did want this to be special. Finally, after all this time, you were both on the same page and could show each other how you truly felt. 

“Here we are,” Jinyoung began, setting the baking dish on the table and peeling back the foil. “Do you want the first taste, or should I do the honors?” 

“You try it. I’m too nervous,” you replied. 

Your boyfriend laughed, placing a small slice on his plate and digging in with his fork. You watched with wide eyes as he brought a bite to his mouth, his expression completely unreadable as he chewed. 

“Is it okay?!” you asked nervously. 

Finally, he cracked a smile and nodded as he swallowed. “It’s really good.” 

“Really?”

“Mm,” he hummed, “try it yourself.” 

Jinyoung broke off a small piece with his fingers, reaching across to feed it to you. You took his wrist in your hands, letting him place the bread between your lips. 

You couldn’t help it. Instead of letting him pull away after you chewed, you held his hand right where it was and wrapped your lips around his index finger, taking it into the wet warmth of your mouth. 

Watching Jinyoung’s eyes, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked at his digit as it rested on your tongue. There was a hitch in his breath just before he slid his finger deeper inside of your mouth, only for a moment. Then he removed it with a pop. 

“Yum,” you said, licking your lips. 

Jinyoung only let you take one breath before he was in front of you, lifting you to stand so that he could collide his lips with yours. You whimpered at the rough pressure but within a moment, you were clawing at the buttons on his dress shirt, desperate to feel his skin under your fingertips. 

His hands roamed your body, sliding along your back until he was grabbing at the soft curves of your hips to bring you against him. You worked at the buttons of his shirt, yanking the fabric apart until you could push the garment off of his shoulders. 

As you parted from Jinyoung for a gasp of air, he wasted no time, diving in to kiss and suck at the tender flesh of your neck. You groaned, fingernails dragging down the front of his chest. 

“Jinyoung.” Your entire body was igniting under his touch, a fact that came as no surprise to you. It had been so long now, you weren’t above begging for him to finally give you the physical attention that you needed. “Please, please.” 

Jinyoung pulled back from your neck, staring down at you as he held your chin between his index finger and thumb. “Please what, baby?” 

“I need you,” you whispered, gazing up at him. “I can’t wait anymore.” 

The way he smirked down at you sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. Need was becoming an understatement. Your hands traveled across his chest and up along his neck until your fingers could push through his hair, gripping onto the strands to pull him down for another kiss. 

You didn’t need words. Jinyoung got the message, reaching down to lift your legs around his waist, turning to carry you back towards the bedroom. He stopped at the nearest wall, pressing your hips into the surface with his own. 

The length of him pressed into your thigh, showing you that he was already hard and ready for you—you wondered how long he’d been thinking about picking you up and stealing you away to the bedroom. 

You moaned into the kiss as Jinyoung began to grind his hips into yours, the thin lacy underwear you’d worn was almost like you were wearing nothing at all, making the contact all the more torturous. 

Then Jinyoung was carrying you the rest of the way to his bedroom, kicking the door open and not bothering to close it behind him. He set you down, breaking the kiss in the process. 

His hands immediately worked to slide the zipper of your tight dress down, letting the fabric fall away to leave you in the barely-there undergarments. 

“Fuck.” 

Your cheeks reddened at his reaction, but you regained control within a second. “Sit on the bed,” you told him, eyes traveling down his bare upper body to the bulge in his pants. 

Jinyoung took a few steps backwards until his knees hit the bed, then he lowered to sit upon the edge. Leaning back on his palms, he stared up at you with so much lust, it felt like he was the one with the upper hand. 

“Gonna make you feel good,” you said, closing the distance and kneeling in front of him. 

Jinyoung reached out, brushing his fingertips along your cheek. “You always do, baby.” 

You licked your lips as you undid his belt, then his pants. You tugged at the waistband until Jinyoung got the hint, lifting his hips so that you could remove his pants. Once he was left in just his boxer briefs, you scooted even closer. 

All the times he’d laid you down and driven you crazy with his mouth, you wanted to repay the favor. He deserved it. It wasn’t like you never went down on him, but it was normally only for a few minutes before he was dragging you back up his body to slip inside of you. Besides, it had been so long now, you’d missed the feeling of his cock in your mouth. 

“Jinyoung,” you whispered as you stared up at him, hands traveling from his knees to his thighs. Strong, corded with muscle he worked so hard for during those early morning gym sessions. 

“Yeah, angel?” he replied, tongue wetting his lower lip. 

“You love me, right?” you asked him with a deceivingly innocent smile, lifting up onto your knees to press a kiss to his lips. 

Jinyoung nodded, plush lips soft against yours. “More than anything.”

“Good,” you breathed, resting back on your heels. “But I want you to fuck my mouth like you hate me, okay?” 

Jinyoung nearly choked on air, eyes widening down at you before he composed himself. He nodded, corner of his lips raising into a smirk. 

“Let your hair down. I’m going to need something to hold onto.”

You obeyed, undoing the bun you’d tied at the top of your head to let your hair fall to your shoulders. Your fingers tucked into the waistband of his underwear, sliding it down until his cock was freed from the fabric. 

He was hard already, a sight that made you squeeze your thighs together. There were many things you’d missed in these last months, but Jinyoung hard and naked was at the top of the list. 

You decided to start slow. You wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft, ducking your head down to take the tip into your mouth. Eyes never leaving Jinyoung’s. 

Slowly, torturously so, you lowered your head until you’d taken about half of his length, feeling the tip of him bump against the back of your throat. 

Jinyoung kept his cool, as always, eyes boring into yours as you worked at him. It took a couple of minutes for you to get used to the feeling, the movement, the rhythm that you knew he liked. But his chest started to rise and fall just a little bit faster, and you knew his hands were itching to grab onto your hair. 

On the next stroke of your mouth, Jinyoung’s hips bucked up, enough to make you gag. Then again, again, and again. The room filled with the sound of Jinyoung’s groans and sharp intakes of air, mixed with the obscene noise each time his cock met the resistance at the back of your throat.

So much for wanting this to be romantic. 

You felt saliva drip out of the corner of your mouth to your chin but made no effort to wipe it away. He loved you like this—sloppy and desperate. Your clit was throbbing and he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

Then Jinyoung was standing, hand on the back of your head to keep his cock in your mouth. He twisted his fingers in your hair, holding tight as he guided your mouth to take him deeper. 

“That’s it,” he said, voice low and gravelly. “More? You want more?” 

You nodded, blinking away the tears that formed at the corners of your eyes. His cock hit the back of your throat again but you relaxed, as much as you could, to let him slip past your gag reflex. 

“Jesus, your fucking mouth.” 

Jinyoung held you there for a moment, even as you coughed around him and your hands gripped his thighs because you needed something to hold onto. He began thrusting into your mouth, hardly giving you a moment to breathe. 

“Such a good girl, taking me in so deep, getting all wet and messy for me…”

You moaned around him, despite the physical discomfort you felt from the way he was using your mouth. You loved it just as much as he did, no matter how tight your chest got or how sore your jaw felt. 

Finally, he yanked at your hair, pulling you off of him. Within a second, he was bending down to slot his lips against yours and helping you stand in front of him. His hands traveled down your body, squeezing and groping at your flesh. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered as he broke the kiss, eyes taking in your frame. You felt goosebumps all over your body from the fire in his gaze, a look you never got used to. “Undress for me, baby.”

It was an internal battle not to blush as your boyfriend stared at you, brown eyes following the trail of your hands down your own body, your fingertips forging a path to the waistband of your panties. You slid them down your legs and stepped out of them, holding his eyes as you unhooked your bra and let the lace fall to the floor. 

Jinyoung took a step closer, resuming your passionate kiss. You could never get enough of his lips, the way they fit perfectly with yours. It was funny to think how polite he’d been the first time you’d kissed; now, he wasted no time sucking at your tongue and nipping at your lower lip. 

His thumbs wiped at your cheeks and chin tenderly, cleaning up the mess you’d made. Walking you back to the bed, Jinyoung only parted from you enough to motion for you to lay back on the bed. 

You did as he asked, crawling over the mattress until you laid with your head at the pillows. Jinyoung was above you within seconds, mouth attaching to your neck and hips pinning you to the bed. 

“You’re- god, you’re so hard. Please,” you begged, sliding your hands up his back. “I need you inside.” 

“Not yet,” he whispered, pulling away to gaze down at you. His hand traveled from your neck down between your breasts, a light touch that set you on fire. He sat back onto his knees, one hand nudging your legs apart. 

Jinyoung stared hungrily at the sight of your glistening core spread out for him. There was no doubt you were wet enough for him to slip in easily, but it came as no surprise that he wanted to feel it for himself. 

“So wet just from sucking my cock, aren’t you baby?” One finger slid down your center, ghosting over your clit, the one place you needed him most. 

You whined, hips bucking up towards his touch. As he swirled two fingers in the arousal that had gathered at your entrance, a moan fell from your lips, earning you a cocky grin. 

When his touch left you all together, you furrowed your eyebrows, ready to complain. Until Jinyoung was pressing his fingers into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. 

Only a moment passed before you relaxed, flattening your tongue to wrap your lips around his fingers. His eyes darkened even more, watching the way you circled your tongue around his fingers, eager to taste your own sweetness. 

Finally, when he was sure his fingers were clean and covered with your saliva, he removed them from your mouth. He didn’t waste any time, pushing both digits into your entrance. 

“Oh-” you sighed, eyes falling shut. 

“Feels good?” he asked, adjusting himself so he could lay on his side next to you. He began a gentle pace inside of you, with his thumb rubbing figure eights into your clit. 

“Mm-hmmm,” you hummed. 

Jinyoung knew everything about your body by now. He was perceptive like that. He arched his fingers in just the right way to hit that spot inside of you, the one that sent shockwaves through your whole body. 

You whimpered. “Jinyoung…” you breathed, feeling around until you could grip onto his forearm. 

He didn’t stop or let up. If anything, his pace became more intense, unrelenting as he drove into you. His lips were under your ear, kissing the sensitive skin and whispering words of praise.

“So sweet, fuck, you feel amazing. Gotta open you up for me, love. You’re so tight,” he told you, adding a third finger as if to prove his point. 

“Ah,” you gasped, back arched slightly off of the bed for a moment, until you grew used to the width of his three fingers. 

“You wanna come like this?” Jinyoung asked, lips now pressed to your cheek. The only sound in the room was the wet, slick noise of his fingers thrusting in and out of you and your breathless praises of his name. 

Shaking your head, you squeezed his arm. “N-no,” you breathed, “I want to come with you inside.” 

“Good girl,” he praised, angling to kiss your lips, his fingers slipping out of you to leave you empty. Another mewl of complaint fell from your lips at the lack of contact. 

Jinyoung sat up to push his boxer briefs down and kicked them off, before settling back on top of you, forehead pressed into yours. He was all around you now, nothing left to separate your bodies. 

“Missed this,” you whispered, tilting your chin up until you could brush your lips against his. You parted your legs, bent at the knee to rest alongside his hips. 

A silent question in his eyes as he lined himself up with your entrance. You nodded, pressing your fingers into his back. Both of you sighed as he slid inside, filling you up just the way you needed. 

Jinyoung began a slow pace, hips rocking deliciously into yours. He buried his face into your neck and groaned, movements controlled to a point that you knew it was taking a great deal of effort not to pound into you. 

Your hands were all over him, nails grazing down his back until you were pressing into his ass, pulling him deeper inside of your heat. Desperation filled you as he thrusted into you, never feeling like you could get him close enough. 

“Jinyoung,” you moaned, nails digging into his skin. “Kiss me.”

He pulled his face from your neck and gave you what you wanted, kissing you slow and deep. He swallowed your moans and brought a hand to the side of your face, pushing your hair out of your face. 

Jinyoung whispered your name against your lips, over and over. Broken sentences fell from your own lips, finding it hard to think straight while he was fucking you this deep, a bruising intensity that made it hard to breathe. 

“Oh,” you sighed, your hands sliding back up his body to nestle into his hair. “Jinyoung, love y- oh, fuck. I can’t- God. Please.” 

Jinyoung nipped at your lip, pulling back enough to duck his head down, taking one nipple into his mouth. You gasped at the sensation of his tongue rolling around the bud, knowing it was enough to send you over the edge if he continued. 

Dropping to hover over you on one elbow, his free hand reached for your leg to hook around his waist, angling you just right for him. His lips continued their work on your breast, releasing your nipple from his mouth to suck a hickey into the skin just above. Well, that would keep you from wearing low cut tops for a week or so. 

You fisted his hair and arched your back, encouraging him to continue. Never one to give you what you want so easily, Jinyoung pulled away as soon as he was sure he’d marked you properly. After kissing the quickly forming bruise, he was gazing down at you again.

You groaned when he raised up enough to wrap his arm around your lifted knee, bringing it to drape over his shoulder. It was a stretch in your leg that hurt, but it was good, the pleasure of his length hitting your g-spot more than enough to overpower the pain. 

Jinyoung built up his pace as a bead of sweat trickled down his temple, hips fucking you almost mercilessly now. He was close, you could feel it in the way he was losing control, eyes wild as he stared down at you. 

“I’m-” you started, dropping your hands from his hair to grip the sheets underneath of you. “I’m almost there. I need…” you began, but Jinyoung finished for you when the hand gripping your thigh dipped down between your bodies. 

“Come on baby,” he encouraged, pad of his thumb massaging your clit now. “Be a good girl for me, yeah? Let me see you come for me. Let me feel you squeeze around me.”

“Ah… I…” you trailed off, eyes practically rolling back as you felt the waves of pleasure start to crest, so close to your peak. “Jinyoung.” 

It only took a few more thrusts until you were tumbling over the edge. You covered your mouth instinctively, though your hand was only there for a moment before Jinyoung was grabbing it to pin above your head. He wanted you loud. 

He got what he wanted. You cried out, back of your head digging into the pillow as your whole body trembled, core pulsing around him with each wave of bliss. He didn’t stop, knowing you needed him to fuck you through it. 

Your body was still twitching with the aftershocks when Jinyoung came. He buried his head into your neck, releasing inside of you with a deep, low groan against your skin. You gasped at the sensation of his cum filling you up, hot pulses that seemed never-ending. 

“Love you,” he whispered as his body began to relax and he came down from his intense climax. 

You turned your head until your lips found his, kissing him with all of the energy you could possibly muster up. It wasn’t much, though. He’d tired you out. 

“I love you too,” you replied against his lips. When you pulled back for air, you looked up into his eyes and couldn’t help the smitten smile that formed. “God. I love you so much.” 

Jinyoung pressed another kiss to your lips, chaste this time, then once more against your forehead. You shivered as he withdrew from you, suddenly feeling cold as soon as his body left yours. 

“I’ll be right back,” he told you even as you whined, grabby hands reaching for him. “Two minutes. Just give me two minutes,” he laughed. 

While Jinyoung went out to grab a towel to clean you up, you rolled over and got yourself comfortable under the covers. If he wasn’t planning on cuddling, you were going to be sorely disappointed. 

All you wanted was to be wrapped up in his arms for, well, the rest of eternity if possible. Jobs and responsibilities be damned. 

Jinyoung returned shortly with a damp, warm towel over his shoulder and a bottle of water in his hand. He set the glass on the nightstand, crawling underneath the covers. 

You couldn’t help distracting him as he cleaned you up, kissing his shoulder, his chest, his throat, whatever expanse of skin you could get your lips on. He complained, pretending like it bothered him but you knew it was quite the opposite. 

When you felt like you were sufficiently less sticky, you took the washcloth out of his hands and tossed it to the floor behind him. You silenced his protest with a kiss, wrapping your body around his like a monkey. 

“Gah,” he said against your lips, “So needy.” 

“Mm,” you agreed, dragging your lips across his cheek to his jaw. “Yes, I am. And I’m not ashamed.” 

Jinyoung laughed as you assaulted him with kisses, your hair tickling his chin when you nuzzled into his neck. 

Finally he relented and wrapped his arms around you, letting your limbs get tangled up and your bodies to press together without any barrier. You honestly couldn’t imagine a better feeling than being completely surrounded by Jinyoung, enough to feel his heart beat pulse against your skin. 

You settled into comfortable silence as he held you, hands stroking patterns up and down your back that sent goosebumps all over. No, there was nothing better than this, you decided. This was your own personal heaven. 

“Y/N,” he whispered after a few more minutes, just as your breathing slowed and you were almost lulled to sleep. “How about a shower? As much as I love this…” 

“Yeah. We’re a little sticky,” you agreed with a laugh, finally peeling your body away from his. 

Jinyoung got off the bed first, reaching his hand out to help you stand. 

“Ooh,” you gasped as your knees wobbled, nearly giving out once your feet hit the floor. Jinyoung caught you, wrapping his arms around your waist securely. 

“Whoa there,” he said with a laugh, kissing the side of your face. “Okay, so maybe a bath instead?” 

You nodded in agreement, blushing until he picked you up, a tiny yelp of surprise falling from your lips. 

“Show off,” you teased, slipping your arms around his neck as he carried you to the bathroom. 

“You love me, though,” he countered, patting your bare ass playfully. 

Tucking your head into his neck, you nodded after a moment, smiling so wide that it hurt your cheeks. In that moment, you knew that you’d made the right choice. You were happy, finally, just truly happy. 

“Yeah, I do.” 

~~~~~

Two Years Later

It was a beautiful venue. More than enough space to contain the one hundred guests on the invite list. 

The ceremony was held in the back garden, sweet smelling flowers surrounding the rows of chairs that sat in front of the arch for the bride and groom. 

There was hardly a dry eye in sight during the vows, even BamBam was spotted wiping his cheek with his sleeve. Though he’d never admit it. 

After everyone convened in the dance hall for the reception, you were quick to remove your shoes, a fancy pair of stilettos you’d bought yourself for your birthday this year. You leaned your head on your husband’s shoulder, watching the newlyweds’ first dance. 

“My feet hurt,” you whined in a whisper, wiggling your toes. 

Jinyoung chuckled, slipping his arm around your shoulders. He rested his head against yours. “I told you to wear the flats, didn’t I?”

“Shut up,” you countered, turning your head to nip at his ear. “The heels were cuter. They’re sparkly.” 

“Ah, you make a good point,” he whispered, placing a kiss to the top of your head. “How are you feeling?” 

“Good,” you replied. “A little tired.”

Jinyoung squeezed your shoulder gently, sliding his fingers along your skin. “The books say-“

“I know. It’s normal for the first trimester.”

Your husband smiled into your hair. “Sorry. I’ve just been learning a lot, you know? I want to help as much as I can.” 

And he had. After finding out you were pregnant two weeks ago, Jinyoung had truly stepped up his game. Buying all of the natural remedies for morning sickness, rubbing your feet after every shift at the store, letting you sleep in on the weekends while he cleaned up the apartment and did the grocery shopping. 

No one knew yet, since it was still rather early in the timeline and you both wanted to be sure before you spread the word. It felt like your own little secret—it was exciting. When you weren’t miserable, at least. 

“I’m just grateful I’m not puking right now,” you told him, sliding your hand along his arm until you could intertwine your fingers. “I don’t think the bride and groom would appreciate that.”

Jinyoung snorted. “Jaebeom would lose his mind. I swear, I’ve never seen him as frazzled as he was this morning. He was wearing out the carpet, pacing back and forth.” 

You laughed softly, watching as Jaebeom spun his bride around, nearly stepping on her dress. She smacked his shoulder playfully, no doubt reminding him just how expensive her dress had been. 

“Can’t believe we’re here,” you said, staring down at your hands before pulling back to lock eyes with Jinyoung. “If only I could go back and tell my thirteen year old self where we’d end up…” 

“Ha. My thirteen year old self would never believe me.” 

Squeezing his hand, you smiled as you pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. “I’m glad we’re here.” 

It hadn’t always been an easy journey these last two years. After the honeymoon phase wore off, you’d gone through rough patches just like any other couple. It turned out, you were both wildly insecure deep down, which was never a good combination. You were needy and Jinyoung was jealous.

You’d had minor fights and not so minor fights, ones that had Jinyoung sleeping on the couch for a week, and one particularly terrible night you’d stayed with Sana. In fact, the man dancing with his wife in front of you had been the cause of that fight. Even more surprising that you were here now. 

But you kept your promise to each other, always. Even when it was hard, even when you cried and thought maybe this wouldn’t work out after all—you still chose each other. Every day. Things weren’t perfect, but they were pretty damn close. 

“Me too,” Jinyoung replied. 

As you squeezed your husband’s hand and placed it against your stomach, you silently thanked yourself for each and every decision you’d made that had brought you to this place. 

Something inside of you, though, told you the best was yet to come. 

#thepactfic #writing #got7 #park jinyoung #jinyoung #got7 fanfic #jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung smut #got7 smut #got7 imagine #jinyoung imagine #jinyoung fluff #got7 fluff

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Four: E-Stim

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Shane deals with the consequences of her email to her boss, both good and bad. A mortifying situation has an…unexpected outcome. Emotions run high in the fourth chapter of The Tx of Sy! Behind on the action? Catch up HERE! 

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language, some angst and emotions. (Like I literally cried writing part of it) And like, an asshole boss…but if you stick it out with Susan, you won’t be disappointed.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

 @cavillryarchive

 @summersong69

 @titty-teetee

 @bloodyinspiredfuck

 @agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

(you didn’t ask, but i took the liberty! Hope that’s okay!)

@tumblnewby @suavechops

Shane had spent her morning getting ready for work and treating her first patient with a whopping headache…maybe a small glass of wine would have been more responsible of her. But she slept like the dead, which was the goal.

She took a moment before her second patient to check her email…there was a reply from Susan.

Shane, come to my office at your next possible availability.

No "thank you" or "please" or "fuck you very much." just an order. Last she checked, SHE wasn't in the military. Since Heather wasn't in yet, she messaged the secretary on duty, Marsha, to see if she could find a way to make an opening in her morning. She wanted to get this meeting over with.

Sure, Shane. Looks like Cory could take your next patient, if you like. He's seen him before.

Perfect. Please make that change and block me for a meeting with Susan. Thank you so much.

She saw Cory walk by, and warned him. "Cory, I'm having Marsha move Mr. Greenbaum to you next hour. I need to meet with Susan about something." she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, shit. Okay. No problem." Cory knew all too well the fuckery that a Susan meeting could entail.

"I really appreciate it. I owe you big time."

"Nah, Mr. G is cool. We just talk about huntin' and stuff."

"He'll probably like that we switched, then." she laughed. And headed for what felt like the principal's office. Bleak and miserable.

She knocked on the door, and was told in an all too cheerful manner to come in.

"Hey!"

"Morning Susan."

"Close the door and have a seat, Shane."

She typed away for a moment before fully engaging…as was her way. She thought it gave her the power. It really just annoyed the fuck out of everyone.

"So, tell me what's going on with this patient you emailed me about."

"Well, he's an ACL and MCL tear, traumatic, plus a dislocated patella. He did it during a mission in Iraq. Ummm, he's improving a lot. Potter did the surgery. He had him keep the crutches about two weeks longer than we thought he would, but--"

"No I mean…this relationship. What's the deal, here?"

"Oh, there's not much to say about it, really. He's been fairly flirty from pretty early on. I've been able to ignore it, but to be honest, I think he's a really great guy, and I think he deserves better than me ignoring his advances, especially when, to be honest Susan, the feelings he has for me are not unrequited." her heart was racing. More than if Sy had been in the room flirting with her, but so much less pleasant.

"I don't think you should see this guy until the treatment is over. What if it doesn't work out and he doesn't want to come here anymore because of you." That hurt…not that it wasn't rattling around in her head, too.

"Well, Susan, to be honest, that's one reason I haven't spoken up about this already. I have that fear. But he's been very adamant about it lately, and it's been on my mind a lot, and I think I owe it to the both of us to see it through."

"I think I should call this guy. Let me pull him up."

She gave her his details to get his information pulled up in their system. God, this was embarrassing. She should have known this nightmare was coming.

"Hello?" a gravelly bark came across the speakerphone.

"Hello, Mr. Syverson?"

"Captain Syverson, yes, Ma'am." She wasn't expecting him to pull rank…and he did it so politely.

"Sorry, Captain Syverson. My name is Susan DeForrest, I'm the manager here at Fort Wood Therapy Clinic. How are you this morning?"

"This side of the daisies ain't worth complainin. What can I do ya for, ma'am?"

"Well, I have Miss Benton, your therapist here in a meeting. You're on speaker."

"Hey Sy." Shane mewled sheepishly.

"Hey there, Shane." she could hear the smile in his voice. She didn't know if Susan could.

"She's saying that the two of you would like to see each other socially, outside of therapy."

"Oh, that's not quite the words I'd use, ma'am, but I s'pose you're technically correct."

"And she's explained to you that this facility has a policy in place regarding such fraternization?" What a load of bullshit she was shoveling. Making it sound so sinister and clandestine what she and Sy were trying to start up. Like espionage. This woman…

"I'm aware that certain policies exist like that to protect patients or customers, and more frequently the staff from situations that could present problems for both or either parties. I am not aware that a strict policy exists to police your staff in such a stringent manner. In fact, I know the opposite to be true."

"Excuse me?" Susan asked, shell shocked.

"See, them policies o' yours, they're all available online. Public knowledge. Even your personnel ones. Now, y'all have a nice and thorough handbook, I mean, I have been up all night just pouring over this like honey on toast, and I can tell you, I ain't findin' a word about y'all not being allowed to date your patients."

"Well, it's in policy number…"

"Nope, you were gonna say 47, subsection 2, part b. But that just says that you shouldn't treat anyone you're close to (i.e. friend, relative, or significant other) if you can't maintain objectivity or your own comfortability. Now, if I'd make Shane uncomfortable, or if she lost her objectivity over me, I'd be devastated. Shane, do I or do you think I could make you uncomfortable or unobjective?" he was laying it on so thick. If she hadn't been falling for him, this would have done it.

"I don't think so, Sy." She held back a smile…but not well.

"There ya have it. Miss DeForrest, I trust that Shane is free to live her life in the way she sees fit?"

"Well, I still think she should wait…" Susan started, but was cut off again by Sy.

"Because you see, I've seen a lot of young people fail to grow old. A lot of people waitin' to do things…they never ended up doin'. This life…it can be real, real short, Miss DeForrest. And I'm not keen on waitin' to be happy when I could be happy right now. Have I made myself clear enough for you? Or do I need to go to the next link in the chain of command here?" The emotion and resolve in his voice was completely shattering. He wasn't crying. But Shane and Susan both were. And then suddenly, Susan sniffed herself into composure and answered him with dignity.

"No, Captain Syverson. That will not be necessary. Shane…is free, of course, to socialize with whomever she sees fit so long as it doesn't affect anyone's treatment adversely. Thank you for your time, candor, and perspective, sir."

"I'm glad to help Shane. She's helped me more than any therapist I've ever had. We clicked immediately. I knew she was somethin' special. But getting to know her over the last few weeks has shown me what true happiness could feel like…I'd forgotten that over in Iraq. She gave that back to me. I'd like to thank her properly."

"I think she'd like that too. Thank you, sir." Susan hung up the phone without letting them say goodbye to each other, but Shane was an utter mess, and unable to form coherent words right now, anyway.

"Wow." Susan exclaimed.

"Yeah." Shane sniffed into a tissue, dabbing her eyes and then blowing her nose loudly, and unapologetically.

"Did he say he spent the whole night reading our policies?" Susan asked, not sure she heard him right.

"That's what I understood." Shane was somehow not surprised.

"Did you tell him to do that?"

"I didn't even know the policies were online, nor did I know you'd pull him in to our meeting…I didn't even know we were having one until twenty minutes ago."

"Right…fair. Sorry, I'm still…off-put by all of that." She had been beaten…and it wasn't familiar or comfortable.

"So, are we finished here?" Shane inquired, tentative about the state of mind her boss was in.

"Yes, go on and take the rest of the hour for continuing ed or whatever." She was normally much more composed…Sy had really gotten to her. She loved it.

Shane hurried back to her treatment room. She had to call him.

"Hello?" that same gravelly voice now confused as he'd just hung up with her, basically.

"May I speak to the great hero Captain Syverson, please?"

"Sunshine. How ya doin'?"

"Did you really stay up all night last night to read our entire employee manual?"

"I wanted the straight up, true life details about this policy that could mess up my future."

"I think you broke my boss's brain. She was still stewing when I left. She thought I told you where to find all that and what not. I didn't even know you could find it online. Plus, I didn't know we'd be meeting or that she'd drag you into a personnel matter. She's the worst. And you're literally my hero for beating her down like you did."

"Hey, ya know, she started it. I just finished it."

"You sure did. And how!"

"So…since we're all legal now…"

"Is the magic gone since it's not forbidden?" she laughed.

"Oh, I was gonna say, yeah, I think this may be a mistake. Sorry."

They both giggled.

"I'm free after work on Friday." she suggested.

"Not anymore, you're not. Bring some nice clothes and change when you're done. I'll pick you up after. Just text me when you're about ready?"

"You haven't given me your number, Sy."

"It's in my chart, dork."

"You have to officially give it to me."

"Oh I'll give it to ya, baby." He'd dug deep into the bass part of his register for that one.

"Syyyyy." she groaned.

"Oh, you already know I like it when you say my name."

"I'm being serious right now, what's your damn number or the date is off." She bluffed.

"Not because I believe that idle threat, but because I wanna…give it to ya." he rattled off the number.

"Okay, I'll be texting you with mine. Now, I have work today, so if you text me and don't get an immediate response, you know that's why."

"I'm not your only patient? I'm hurt, Shane."

"I know, that's why you've been coming to therapy for weeks."

"Har-Har, good thing I'm not into you for your sense of humor."

"Good thing I'm not into you for your looks, since 80% of your face is obscured by hair."

"We could go all day like this."

"The stamina." she teased.

"Well, look who joined the game!" he sounded almost proud.

"Don't think I haven't been participating silently for…a while."

"How long?" he inquired

"Isn't that my line?" she laughed at the penis joke she'd just made.

"You'll find out soon enough, and you won't be laughing. How long?"

"Well, you remember your evaluation."

"I do."

"Yeah…then." she bleated, too shy to say so with pride.

"No way! You mean you've liked me all this time too! And haven't said shit!?"

"I had to be professional, Sy! I didn't want to! Damn! You've gotta know how much I didn't want to be professional."

"I'll forgive ya, I guess, lil' lady."

"Merciful of you, sir!" she chuckled. "I'll need to go here soon. Won't be long now until my next one gets here."

"Tease me with a 'sir' then cut me off. Cruel."

"You like 'sir,' huh?" she whispered.

"I do. Yes…I…do."

"Noted. Well, until tomorrow."

"Don't forget to text me. I want you to give it to me too." he chuckled.

"Oh, you're bad."

"But, I'm real, real good sunshine." The deep rich promise in his voice did not go unnoticed.

"Bye Sy."

"Later Shane."

She hung up and texted him immediately. A selfie. He replied in kind. He seemed to be home on his couch, Aika by his side…he was not wearing a shirt…well…this day would be eternal.

Up Next: Chapter Five- Sensory Integration 1

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc

[sevengraces]

This Wouldn't Happen If You Would Communicate With Each Other pt. 1

     As the title suggests, Patton and Logan try very hard to induce a conversation between Roman and Virgil and they both fight it kicking and screaming. Talking out your issues at any time other than four am is for losers anyways.

Hello! This should be about three parts, I'll try to post every day so it's up by the weekend. TW: Panic Attack (like right out the gate) Swearing Self Hate Illusions to Suicide (idk virgil ducked out so like?) That should be all, if you like it feel free to scream at me if the void is busy (: The first chapter is shorter than the rest so be forewarned. Can you tell Virgil is my comfort character? 

Link to AO3, You Are Here, Chapter 2,  Chapter 3 Title Card 

Chapter One: I Have Had Three Panic Attacks This Week, It is Tuesday

Virgil was totally and absolutely fucked.

    Trying to Duck Out was the stupidest thing he had ever done and when it inevitably crashed and burned Virgil would have the satisfaction of knowing that he had predicted it, even though it was his own fault.

    That’s what he had been thinking for the past fifteen minutes on repeat with little to no coherent thought besides a long string of swears.

    He hadn’t been trying to get attention or acceptance or whatever else when he did it, honestly he had just realized the truth, that he wasn’t needed and he was being selfish subjecting Thomas and the other sides to his presence.

    That hurt to think, huh? Because wasn’t that exactly what he was doing now except ten times worse because they would feel too guilty to tell him to fuck off.

    Virgil clearly wouldn’t be getting enough sleep tonight, because oh that’s right, he didn’t even have enough self control to make his moral and emotional crisis wait until a more reasonable hour than 2:30 in the morning. Although calling this two thirty disaster anything other than a sleep deprivation and self loathing fueled panic attack would be far more generous than he usually was to himself, so he vaguely considered trying to calm down.

    Of course the moment he began counting that annoyingly honest voice in his head (Did it count as a voice in his head if he was a figment?) chimed in with it’s stupid little words.

    “You know you deserve this, ” it howled, sounding uncomfortably like Roman’s laughter that typically sent him fleeing the commons.

    “Why would you do this to us, ” it cried, a little too close to Patton's tears for comfort, leaving him filled with aching guilt.

    “You aren’t being helpful ,” it stated, with that calm assurance that only Logan can bring, gutting him of his sole motivation.

    Soon enough he was hyperventilating with his back against the wall. His lungs were collapsing, he was sure of it. Virgil didn’t even have enough air to berate himself, which was saying something.

    He wasn’t sure when he had brought his hands to his head but he knew he was pulling on his hair. Which although it definitely wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism it did ground him just enough to inhale.

    “In,” Virgil sucked in a harsh breath.

    “Out,” Virgil huffed out a heavy gasp.

    On and on this cycle repeated until he had garnered some semblance of balance. With his air intake evened out Virgil was just tired now, which is good for 3:45 in the morning but not great for the now glaringly obvious need for food and water.

    Virgil spent an indeterminate amount of time staring at the wall before he finally stood and headed down towards the kitchen. He wasn’t exactly sure what time it was but he knew it was early enough that he should have free reign of the kitchen and common area. So phone in hand and earbuds in his pocket Virgil crept down the hallway past Patton’s room, holding his breath the whole time. He didn’t hear anything once he passed Morality’s door so he continued on towards Logan’s room. He paused right before the logical side’s room, hidden in the natural shadows of the hallway. He listened for far too long to be normal before moving on with the stairs in sight.

    Although freedom was right there Virgil knew better than to throw caution to the wind. He hesitated a good two feet before Roman’s room and looked at the crack between the door and the entrance way.

    The creative trait’s light was on. Virgil felt a shot of panic, which nearly sent him sprinting towards his own safe haven before he took a moment and thought.

    Roman was prone to passing out in creative bursts, leaving whatever he was doing and anything he had turned on out and running. Which definitely couldn’t be healthy for him or Thomas, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. Plus, he thought, if the light was on in Roman’s room that means he’s in there and not downstairs, which was the most important part of his late night excursion.

    So, with his mind made up, Virgil snuck downstairs with an and went into the kitchen.

    Virgil sighed, relief heavy throughout the entire breath, he was in the clear. He rummaged through the fridge, blinking at the sudden light before grabbing the milk and heading towards the cereal cabinet. He took his time pouring the cereal into the bowl and made sure to stop whenever he thought he heard something. He carefully poured the milk and made sure not to spill anything, before returning the milk and cereal to their respective places.

    After Virgil had finished pouring himself a bowl of cereal he hopped up onto the counter and plugged his headphones in, listening to his calming playlist with one ear, and idly listening to the room’s ambient noise with the other.

    Virgil wasn’t sure how much time had passed and he didn’t really care. All he knew was that his cereal was finished and lying in the sink. He considered washing and putting away his dishes, but figured it would be too loud. So he remained on the kitchen counter in the dark with his headphones in and music turned low. The uninterrupted semi-peaceful air lulled him into a vague sort of daze.

#thomas sanders virgil #thomas sanders roman #patton sanders #logan sanders #prinxiety #platonic or romantic #hurt/comfort #sanders sides #grace is writing

[delaneytveit]

Satellites Part 13

WHOOOOO we’re halfway thereeee! OOOHHHHH (Actually we’ve been a little bit more than half way for a bit) but don’t worry, there’s still A LOT of story to get through. If you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, please consider buying me a coffee! 

Oh and I’m on twitter! if you want to give a follow, or watch me scream into the void about Lance in tactical gear, that’s the place! 

Twitter - sfw -> @/spacemom_laney | nsfw -> @/15_agentwash

ko-fi - ko-fi.com/delaneym_15

 ( Part 12 ) ( Satellites Master Post ) (Part 14) 

The team left at 0800 the next morning. Allura had convinced, after quite a long time, Blue to let her pilot. Though it was clear that Blue was not happy about it. The only lion that was missing was the red one.

Keith had chosen to stay behind, to much confusion of the team. Though Lance could vaguely guess why. He felt guilty. Keith had been the one to bring into question Lance’s ability to complete missions, and even though that wasn’t his intention, he knew that it still hurt Lance.

Their relationship was rocky as it was. Neither of them really knew where they stood with the other, what they were to each other, and it seemed that the present situation had complicated things even more so.

Lance was refusing to talk to Keith, and it hurt. He hadn’t meant to indirectly ground the sharpshooter. He had only wanted to voice his concerns to Allura, positive that she would be able to do something for Lance that he couldn’t.

Normally, the only kind of confrontation Keith would be willing to face was violent, but he didn’t want to fight Lance. He wanted to apologize. To take responsibility for what was happening to Lance. He owed him that much at least.

It wasn’t hard to track the Blue Paladin down. He had locked himself in his room since breakfast. It was a good thing Keith knew the code by heart.

Punching in the code, he was relieved when the door whooshed open revealing Lance sitting at his desk. Keith could hear the volume of the headphones from where he stood, which made him cringe. The EDM music that Lance listened to was loud enough, didn’t anyone warn him of blowing out an eardrum?

Keith knocked twice before taking loud steps towards the boy, hoping that they would be loud enough to let Lance know that he was there. Lance’s anxiety had spiked dramatically since his return and it took one accidental sneak up by Pidge to inform the team that it was vital for Lance to know that you were coming, so as to avoid a swift punch to the face out of panic.

“What do you want, Keith?” Lance sighed as he removed his earphones. He swiveled his chair to look at the red paladin, arms crossed as he leaned back in his seat.

This was it, Keith had been rehearsing his apology for hours now, trying to make it sound as genuine and coherent as possible. Though at the very moment, what ever award winning speech he had come up with beforehand had vanished as those hard blue eyes stared into him.

“I’m sorry.” he blurted out, cursing himself for his lack of grace.

He immediately dropped his gaze, eyes staring at the floor. There was only a tense silence between them, and Keith begged his mind to come up with something, anything to put an end to this crushing feeling.

But of course, his mind, nor his mouth could seem to work correctly.

It was Lance who broke the silence instead.

“For?” he asked, the question forcing Keith to look up and face the boy. Blue eyes met his once more, a questioning brow raised as Lance waited for Keith to answer.

He could do this.

“I shouldn’t have told Allura about all of this. I- I didn’t know that she would take you off of missions. I should have talked to you and voiced my concerns to you, you didn’t deserve what Allura did to you and it's my fault that it happened. And I am so, so sorry for that.” He was rambling, he knew he was. How did people do this? How did they apologize?

He was only stopped when Lance held up his hand.

“I appreciate the apology, I really do. And to be honest, I’m glad that you told Allura. I don’t think she would have found out if you hadn’t. I’m not mad at you Keith.”

“You’re not?”

Lance chuckled a little, running a hand through his hair.

“I mean, I am a little bit. But I think I’m more pissed at the situation in general.” Lance leaned forward, perching his elbows on his knees. Looking down at his clasped hands, Lance spoke “You guys are right, I’m not okay. I haven’t been for a while and no matter how much I pretend that I am, I’m just hurting myself. I’m not getting better.” he sounded so...broken. Lance never really talked about himself, at all really. Superficial things, sure. Like how he got barely any sleep, or that he missed his mom’s cooking. But he never really talked about things deeper than that. Keith hadn’t really noticed until now, but Lance had been hiding a big part of himself away this entire time, and it only came out at his most vulnerable times at night.

A year ago, Keith would have thought of the way that Lance talks about himself as vain, but now he knew that it wasn’t really the case. Lance has been putting on a mask this whole time.

“But we don’t have time. The universe doesn’t have time for me to get better. It's a long ass process that Voltron can’t afford.”

He was right, of course he was right. Lance was vital to Voltron, even if he didn’t really see himself that way. He still knew that Voltron needed him. It was even more present today with Blue’s little tantrum about having to take on Allura as a pilot.

“But is the universe really more important than having you here?” That was what Keith was most afraid of. Lance had always been the self-sacrificial type. He couldn’t argue that he himself was any better, but Lance seemed to take it to a whole new level. The paladin would miss sleep and meals to make sure that everyone else was taken care of. He would jump in front of a bullet in a second to spare the others. On one occasion Lance had bounded into a burning building to save a few children stuck on the third floor, that had been the worst as it only reminded Keith of how he lost his father. He couldn’t lose Lance too.

“Keith-”

“No, Lance. Listen to me. The universe is not worth you throwing yourself away like that. What you need time to heal, what you went through was fucking terrible. It's no wonder you have PTSD from it.”

“We are the literal Defenders of the Universe, I can’t just not do my job!”

“I’m not asking you to stop being a paladin! I’m asking to for once in your life put yourself first. We need you, I need you! You need to let yourself heal from all of this because there is no Voltron if you continue to let your own health fall by the wayside!” Keith meant every word of it. They needed Lance. They needed him to come back, to be the best he could be, and as hard as he was trying right now, this wasn’t it.

“I’m worried for you, Lance. I can’t lose you too.” Keith’s voice was so small, he himself almost didn’t hear it. But he knew that Lance did, as the boy stood up from his seat and walked over to Keith, instantly wrapping his arms around the shorter one.

“You won’t Keith, I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Keith breathed in the scent of ocean and sandalwood of Lance’s detergent, and thanked whatever higher being was there that Lance had insisted on buying his own detergent all those mall trips ago. The pompous asshole had good taste in soap, and it comforted Keith easily.

“Just promise me you’ll at least try.”

He felt Lance take a deep breath.

“I am trying, Keith. I’m trying every day.” If Keith felt the shaky breaths or the wetness on his shoulder, he said nothing. It was clear that Lance needed this as much as he did, maybe even more. “I never wished I was Shiro, more than I do right now. He’s been through everything and he’s able to handle it all so easily.”

Oh, absolutely not. There was no way in hell Keith would let Lance talk about himself like that.

He pulled away from their hug, to much of his own dismay, and held Lance at arms length. Violet eyes bore into icy blue ones. The eyes that he could get lost in, but now as not the time to think about that, Keith.

“Lance, you said it yourself. WHat Shiro went through and what you went through was completely different.”

“But-”

“No. You really think that Shiro would be in any better of a state than you are now after being treated the way you were? I have no idea the extent of what they did to you, but I do know that it had to have been absolute hell. You don’t get to compare your pain to others, just because they seem to be doing better than you. Your pain is your own, so stop being an idiot and just acknowledge the fact that those guys are assholes!”

Keith was most definitely not expecting a chuckle from the Blue Paladin, but he assumed it would be better than the alternative.

“That was good, Mullet. You come up with all that yourself?”

Keith rolled his eyes. Of course, leave it to Lance to make a joke about a serious conversation.

“As a matter of fact, I did. And I’ll say it again. As many times as I need to for it to get through your tiny brain.”

“Hey! I’ll assure you my brain is of average size. Some may say it's even above average!”

It was Keith’s turn to laugh.

“Yeah, I’m sure it is.” he joked offhandedly, letting his grip on Lance’s arms finally fall.

Lance fixed him with his characteristically famous smirk that Keith knew could only mean trouble.

“Want to know what else is above average size?” Lance waggled his eyebrows knowingly as Keith facepalmed.

“Oh my god, Lance. No!”

#vld lance #lance serrano #lance mcclain #i love two blue bois and lance is one of them #lance getting to joke and be a normal human being for once #it can't all be angst #I mean it can but like #he deserves to be heard and enjoy his life somewhat #also lance and Keith??? oh yeah klance is happening

[movie-guy49]

Hey everyone,

I just want to give everyone a quick update as to what's going on with the scams or what's called operation drain and run out of the 200 that were arrested the other day most have been released must have been very forthcoming and giving information some of them have been detained further pending for their interview and or their charges are going to be dropped or reduced law enforcement agencies have confirmed that there are some more smaller cell operations of this type going on here in the United States and in Canada they are now getting in with the Canadian authorities to help with the investigation up there I can't tell you that 75 of the 200 people arrested the other day were members of Tumblr so basically yes they were right under our nose and we did not know it but I knew it.

I can also tell you that information from this point forward is going to be very slim because they are wanting to Big Cheese the people that are actually masterminding all this and they're going to have to start being careful what information they let out and that's totally acceptable to me I totally understand that and they did say the other thing about passing the info. on to you guys as much as they can. They said that I have been a big help in this there's been a few other people that have come forward they've also been assisting and helping out but I still need some more help so anything y'all got if it if it means you got scammed don't worry about being embarrassed you're not going to be judged or you're not going to be treated like shit just because you fell for it.

So now if you've noticed that I changed the format of my blog it makes it look like it's in a daily or weekly episodic TV show it's still called a slice of my world but it's also episode 1-18 this is starting to become a daily or actually it should say it bi-weekly thing of me posting and I have enjoyed it don't get me wrong but the title of this is called oh how things have changed and it's basically going to be a lot of difficult reading from this point forward but stuff that once you read it you'll understand why it has been so difficult I I'm going to Chronicle the night of January 20th of last year through the morning hours of January 21st which is what I considered the moment my life changed forever.

So we begin on January 20th 2020 I had to go to work I walked 4 miles to go to work because I didn't have a vehicle anymore and we were living in a motel so I had to you know make sure one of us is working until a lot of times where I was staying even hard for me to get a ride. So I work the 3:30 to close shift which basically meant I left between anywhere from between 12:30 and 1:00 in the morning I worked at a movie theater which by the way was probably the best job I had ever had in my life I I love that place I would love to go back to another one like it. So basically I got off work about 12:30 that night and normally I would have a ride to work on Monday nights this week it wasn't possible because of something that happened at the theater the manager got behind on his paperwork on and couldn't get out on time like he normally does I had to go to the store that night because we didn't have very much food so I went to store I got about 2 or 3 nights worth of food with enough till I get to my day off from work to go to the store and get more. That was a common occurrence so by the time I got done with the store and got home about 2:30 in the morning my wife was asleep she had been sick for about a month before this which now I have directly linked into being one of the first cases of COVID-19 in the united states'.

I came home and like I said she was asleep and I gave her a kiss like I usually do sometimes it wakes her up sometimes it doesn't this time it woke her up we start talking for a little bit I went outside and I did my usual ritual I go outside and smoke a little weed you know kind of relaxed a little bit for about 20-30 minutes yeah I went inside and cooked dinner now for a little background my wife had been sick for a while she had a heart attack November 8th in 2018 and then she had a stroke Easter Sunday of 2019 a stroke that she refused to go get taken care of even though I begged her and had other people beg her to go to the hospital she would not do it when she had the heart attack the doctor was not able to fix all the blockages to her heart because some of the arteries were too small so he told me privately that if she had another heart attack she wouldn't survive it I knew that I told her that about 3 months later so she knew but on this night I never had any dream or knowing that 2 hours after I got home from work she would be dead she had a massive heart attack I was just getting ready to start cooking dinner when she started really screaming about chest pain and I've never heard her go off like she did and even though I called 911 it still took the damn people 20 minutes to get out there otherwise I still think she'd be alive but then again maybe not so to try to make a long story short they would not let me ride in the ambulance with her to the hospital she was still coherent but when they did the ekg in the room where we were staying at I could tell the guy's eyes that she wasn't going to be much longer and I think the reason why they told me I couldn't ride with them was because for the same Theory I think that they didn't want my last memory of her to be of her fighting for her life and dying and I am thankful for that because I've had horrible nightmares about this whole thing and so after I made all the notifications and everything that day I went back to work two days later and I was told I could stay out as long as I needed to they were really really super awesome and amazing to me hell they were even responsible for giving me the money to get my wife buried because they donated money they put a pool in together to help me. The thing about it was is I don't know what upset me more the fact that I wish there was something more I could have done or the fact that I had to have a fucking cop show up to my door to tell me that she was gone even though I had already known it. So when I went back to work two days later it was very very hard because she used to work there too and she used to work at the podium on the weekends where she took the tickets and everything and told people where the theaters were and everything else and I wasn't there for 2 hours and I just doubled over it was just like a big flood of emotion but I made it that night but the hard part was with the weekends because those were the nights that she worked the most everybody loved my wife it worked up there and so I mean I didn't feel like I was so alone then the pandemic came I lost my job I lost my place where I was staying I had to go to my sister-in-law's house which was the biggest mistake of my life cuz I really found out what kind of people they were plus that's when I developed a curiosity for methamphetamine and then I met the bitch from hell not even 2 months later and keep in mind she was just supposed to be a companion we weren't like going to be boyfriend girlfriend cuz I still way too broke up about my wife's death that's all I wanted cuz I couldn't stand being lonely anymore just like I can't stand it now but she got me hooked on meth and I say she got me hooked because she kept bringing it around me knowing that I found something new that I really liked and I didn't ask her to bring it around I could have said no but this has to do with that 28 day period from June to July where she was drugging me putting the dope in my food in my drinks that's why I blame her.

Then after my ex got murdered at a house party I lost my sister-in-law and nephew and then my step daughter called me one day two weeks before Christmas to tell me that she lost her fiance her baby's daddy after he had a heart attack from A congenital heart defect that he had for 6 years the only bright spot of 2020 was my step daughter had a daughter of her own and that to this day that baby is my love bug

As where I'm at right now I'm going to be homeless by next weekend again unless I can come up with $250-300 dollars by Friday night it doesn't look like it's going to happen folks unless I can get some donations and get them quick I am taking donations right now if you can help I don't care if it's 5 10 15 20 $25 whatever it is it will help I don't expect nobody to give me the money all at once cuz I know a lot of people don't have that kind of money right now so just little donations will help right now I had to actually go to Walmart today and steal food God I hate myself for doing it I didn't get caught but still my conscience was getting the best of me for much of the evening I got enough food here to last me for 2 or 3 days if I end up getting to stay here but like I said it's not looking very good at this point I've tried local resources I've tried all kinds of Charities help and all they want you to do is hurry up and wait and I ain't got that kind of time and I told him that so I I'm asking for any help that anyone could give if I don't get if I can get at least $250 out of 400 I can go get me a motel room for the week and I'll get me by until I can come back here when my roommate comes back cuz then he'll have the money for the rent and everything else so I can come back here so I just need to really get by for a week I have not had any dope in nine days I'm going crazy but I need a place to live first before I can be doing that shit so I'll just have to deal with it if you want to help I'll give you my cash app I will put it at the end of this post for everybody so the last 18 months has not been fun I went to six suicide of Temps and I just been existing when before I had it all anyway so that's basically going to end this episode of a slice of my world I'm sorry if this was such a downer for a lot of people but you know I the more and more I feel like I tell my story easier everyday gets for me cuz I don't feel like I'm burying myself with all the emotion and having to keep it bottled up anyway I will talk to you y'all whenever I talk to you I may be on Hiatus for a little bit because I won't have a phone here after tomorrow unless I go someplace that has Wi-Fi and depending on my living situation I mean like I said I'm I'm hoping and praying somebody will be able to help out by donating a little bit of money to me so I can keep a place over my head somehow someway anyway y'all. I love you take care of yourself and I'll see you on the other side

Cashtag $jojo091069

PayPal

Venmo

Google pay

Message for those tags I left blank as I don't know them by heart yet

Love,. Sean

[writingsofmyimagination]

With Custard

Gif is mine :)

This Fic was written for the @bangtansmutcentral​ & @ksmutclub​ Made With Love Project.

 My partner was @mind-of-a-hardstan​ and I chose to write the next part to her fic Apple Pie   A Hobi post break up AU - Which I loved.

I hope you enjoy my additon!

Pairing: Hobi x Reader

Genre/Rating: Post Break Up Au/18+

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (light BDSM themes) & A Perfect way to use some food.

Sooo here goes…

Saturday rolled around way quicker than you’d liked. The eggs and custard weighed down your basket like the nerves sedimenting at the bottom of your stomach. Layers and layers of thoughts, questions upon questions & doubts over doubts

How can it be different?

Will he give you more of his time?

Can you do this again?

What was it he wasn’t telling you?

You left his ass because you rarely saw him, he was always working. The relationship, if you could even call it that, wasn’t there. You loved how dedicated and passionate he was to his dancing and singing but something changed. You’d become good friends with all of his bandmates; Jimin and Yoongi more so. Hoseok was always busy this wasn’t new; his schedule was gruelling but the last month or so before you split, he’d also become distant. Leaving you feeling like you weren’t even worth rushing home for after practice anymore. The way his words rolled down your spine two days ago.

“I’ve missed you”

Each syllable laced with sadness as it trickled down each of your vertebrae. You’d missed him too. He could have persuaded you to stay, quite easily if you were honest. You just wanted to see some fight from him.

Your insides were coiled in tight knots. Even though you had a key you knocked on his apartment door; it wasn’t your place to just walk into anymore.

Do I look okay?

Should I have put more effort in?

Jesus Y/N it’s 9am on a Saturday, you look fine

Your white strap top was tucked snug into high waisted denim skinny jeans; A black blazer shrouded your shoulders from the morning nippy breeze that battered you on the short walk from your car.

You heard ruffled hurried feet at the door before it clicked open. His shoulders immediately dropping as the relief oozed out of them.

“Hey”

“Hey”

He stepped back welcoming you in to what used to be one of your favourite places; home. It was unchanged. Neatly arranged furniture hardly filling the expansive space. The sun was still rising over the blocky Seoul skyline; the lounge chair you’d pushed to view the sunrises was still facing out of the long glass windows. Sometimes he’d curl up with you under the fleece blanket.

“After you left, I sat in that chair all night and watched the sky until I had to leave for practice”

“Hobi I… don’t know what to say” The shopping bag gently clattered on the marble side before you turned to face him. He swept himself into you, his face buried into your neck, arms scooped under yours and secured behind you. Your hands locked to the back of his neck, fingers stroking the soft currently brown tinted hair before you’d even registered your response. God, you’d missed him closed to you

why does he have to smell so good?.

The softness of his skin and the fragrance of coconut that lingered from his morning shower.

“I missed you” he muttered into your skin

“I missed you too” your head resting on his. How were you even going to talk about everything, you were speechless. Could you just not pretend all of this never happened?.

“Come on, let’s just make the apple pie and we’ll talk then okay?” You pulled up his chin to be met with glistened over puppy dog eyes. He nodded and offered you a sweet smile.

“You’re actually going to trust me to help?” he queried getting out the ingredients you’d asked him for.

“Well partly, you’ll just have to do what I tell you… for a change” You toyed. You really shouldn’t have, now was not the time for flirting. The way his lips curved up at the sides and the way his eyes shone told you he didn’t object. You both had a small chuckle relaxing even further naturally into each other’s company.

“Can I trust you to peel the skin of the apples and cut them into chunks?” You clicked the oven on to preheat, gas mark 6.

“I’ve got this” he told more to himself than you.

“Right I’ll handle the rest”

While he’d been focused on the apples your eyes had to fight to stay on what you were doing. His washed-out denim jeans, exposing far too much skin through the multiple rips effortlessly dragged your mind elsewhere.

Jesus, am I that frustrated that just a few jean rips have me spiralling?

Apparently, that answer was yes; it always was especially when It came to his thighs.

If he’d caught you oogling he certainly didn’t’ say. You were courteous in kind suppressing all smirks when his eyes wandered over to you when your blazer left your shoulders. Hobi though unlike you could not be as subtle. His hand would brush against yours while he was leaning to grab something, or he’d move you to the side slightly by way of his hand on your hip.

//

“I guess I’ll have to write this down for your mum won’t I” your hands wrapping round the towel drying them off, leaning against the work top.

“She will love you forever”

“Think she’ll trade for her Bakewell tart recipe?”

“Definitely! How long’s it’s going to be?”

“Just under an hour”

“Wanna talk now?” you offered

“Nope” he breathed pushing into you shoving you hard against the work top; hands either side of your face. One leg pushed in between your thighs. Your breathe was lost, caught in lips which were starved of you; and you didn’t half feel it. Your grip at his wrists loosened instead balling your fists round his white shirt at his waist. The pair of you finally needed to come up for air. His forehead flush to yours while your chests rose and fell together trying to contain the frantically beating hearts beneath them.

His hair had fallen over his face shielding his eyes, one hand had slipped and rested on your chest the other his fingers were slightly curled into your hips, bracing, holding himself back.

“We should really talk first” you panted with very little conviction. Hands still balled round his shirt; consciously restraining yourself from grinding on his thigh.

“Just let me make you feel good” His head nudged yours to the side kissed your neck exactly where he knows your weak. He felt the caught moan in your throat.

“Just let me love you…please!” Normally you’re the one whining for him, his eyes were crying out for you. Pleading. Hands shoved him back. In the split second the smirk from his face dissipated, until you hurriedly yanked your shirt over your head launching it the same place as all your rational thoughts; where you didn’t care!

You yanked him by his belt loop back to you, the elated smile back to full volume, the kitten that got the creamiest milk He tapped at the side of your thigh. Up!.

Legs wrapped round his waist, he stabilised your weight assisted by the worktop before setting you down on the dining table which was at an easier level. You’d many times been reminded it was the perfect height the amount of times Hobi had fucked you on or bent over it. Your arms held at his neck tight while his hands unhooked your jeans and yanked them past your behind in a gust. One strong kiss at your lips had you chasing his lips as he removed all contact.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t need to respond, the jug of custard in his hand said it all.

“It’s cold”

“Even better, underwear off princess!” It wasn’t a suggestion.

“Your shirt first” You bargained feeling brave; pout heavy on your lips.

“You’re lucky I’ve got making up to do otherwise you’d easily earn yourself a spanking for that”

He legs rested in between yours placing the jug behind you, tantalising licking the spoon clean which hung in his mouth. He obliged your request shedding his shirt off in a fluid motion. You could easily lose your way adrift the defined lines stretching across his olive skin. The way his jeans sat snug on his hips, the v line where his lower abs and obliques met were always candy to your eyes. He knew it too. He knew the way his hips swayed captivated every cell in you. Only god himself could help you when you saw him practice; surprisingly not he always invited you.

His finger tipped your chin up, hair ruffled, messy over his forehead framing the man you were so incapable of resisting. Your head obedient in following his hand, his lips fusing with yours; heavy and needy. Your hands unclipped your bra, straps ghosting your flushed skin as it slid down to the floor.

“Well this is new” he purred eyeing the silver ring now running through your nipple. His hand teasing down your neck and chest to investigate. The cool fingertips gliding across the skin underneath your chest heaved out with a heavy inhale

“Is it more sensitive?” He didn’t need the answer, he was going to find out regardless. Your eyes begged him ‘why don’t you find out’ as did the bottom lip being toyed with your teeth.

He was not one to be teased. The hand tracing was now gripping firm, holding you breast secure for his tongue to lavish. Nails on his shoulders, your audible inhale and the broken moan caught in your throat. He heard it all, giving him his answer.

“You never used to make that much of a fuss, so that’s a yes!” he deduced, pleased. Your core was beginning to ache, yearning for any contact and he’d hardly touched you. Using his shoulders as an anchor you pulled yourself closer to him arching your chest into him.

“Is my girl getting needy?” Hobi cooed slick with satiation.

“Mmmhmm…” was all you managed his lips catching any coherent words.

“Close your eyes, don’t open them otherwise you get nothing” Pouting, arms folded. You waited for whatever Hobi had left you to get. Without the heat of him around you the air cooled, goose bumps eliciting from your touch deprived skin. You were still using all your concentrated hearing to sense even the slightest sound. The familiar click of the bedroom door tainted the silence, every few steps you heard your pulse raced just that bit faster.

“Keep them closed” he reminded approaching you stealing the urge for you to open then. Even the silk now covering your eyes smelt like him. The scent was too strong for it to be natural; he’d sprayed it with your favourite aftershave of his. He watched you appreciate his choice.

“Hook your legs round loosely princess”

“…Hobi..” you breathed more in frustration than a plea as his fingers ghosted your core, barely making contact. Enough for him to feel how desperate you were for him; not enough for you to refrain from whining, bottom lip conveying your dismay. You pouted for too long. His teeth soon lightly clamped down softly. He nudged your legs up higher on his waist causing your hips to tilt.

“Fuck!” you cried nails digging harshly at his scapula, swallowing just as hard.

“Nice?” his almost whispered voice trickled down your ear, his breath running wild fire down your neck.

“Mmm” you hummed. A xmas gift from hobi; 2 kegal balls coated in purple silicon building the shape of a peanut now pushed snug inside you. A click emanated from a silicon tail before the vibrations started.

Shimmying out of your grip he swept the jug back into his hands. Your neck, the valley in between your breast, your pierced nipple, just above your naval. Your blood raced under the cold drips of the custard. Your thigh…your….

“6 areas, 6 places I want my mark. Call out the numbers baby” You rolled in the memory of the way his teeth would pinch and suck at your skin leaving blooming blotches of red to remind you of those nights

“5”

Teasing fingers traced the outline of the pools of custard. His hair tickling your sides, his tongue swirling the custard from your stomach, lips sealing on your skin above your Naval. Thighs tightening around his waist, his lips sucking the blooming red petals of blood vessels to the surface. You envisioned Hobi nearly on his knees, lips on your skin, hair covering his face in a coffee mess.

“Please let me see you” you whined. The dull vibrations of the balls were aching; only serving to increase the itch growing stronger inside you against your walls.

“Not yet princess, next number?”

“3” Hoping this would be the number to bring you relief. It wasn’t, just more torture. Hobi was going to make sure he used your new piercing as much for your benefit as his. The warm tongue on the cool metal of the bar, the disappearing coolness of the custard. The harsh bite of his teeth

“Are you making this order up?”

“The order is what I say it is baby” he purred onto your skin pressing open mouth kisses up your body until his lips tangled with yours.

“2” you whispered onto his breath. He dropped through your legs, tongue lapping at the custard from your inner thigh. His bite was much harsher on the meatier flesh, hissing through your teeth. One hand clamping down on a hand that was digging hard into your outer thigh. The pinching of your flesh ravaged your nerve endings; increasing the throb at your bundle of nerves.

//

One firm lick of his tongue up your sternum left only one number.

“1”

“Mmm” he hummed, dropping to his knees.

“Oh baby you’re glistening!” Lustful voice saturated with absolute approval.

“Now do I take my present out or leave it in?”

Your response was lost in a choke. The last strip of custard, had become a chimera with your arousal.

“God I’ve missed you, you taste so damn sweet” he panted in between your thighs.

“I think we can leave this now; I think you’d much prefer me inside yes?

The whine in agreeance as he left you feeling empty. Not for long. His fingers were quickly pressed to the velvet wall with the same pressure as his tongue was pressed flat to your clit. The whirlpool motion of the warm muscle had you fighting to control your breathing, head thrown back. Hand tight in his hair attempting to regain again type of stability. The strong come hither with his fingers had the pit of your stomach in your coils tight building up the pressure driving you into space.

//

“Want to cum yet?” The sweet devil asked denying your fall off the edge for the third time. His chest now flush to yours. Lips at your ear, fingers stilled inside you, palm pressed at your clit.

“Tell me how much how much you want it baby” You were more than happy to stroke his ego

“So…much” you were desperate

“Pleaasse” pleading on the brink.

In the midst of your moan the egg timer started ringing through the kitchen.

“Well you better cum then don’t want the pie to burn” You barely needed anything, the pressure tapping at your clit while his fingers were thrusting back in and out.

Your nails left red crescents printed on his skin.

“I love it when you fall apart” Purposely his palm stayed pressed against you prolonging the aftershocks.

“I’ll get the pie” The blindfold quickly discarded on the floor.

“I want you on all fours on the bed for me” It was an order.

//

The fresh breezy scent of the cotton sheets pressed to your cheek. A heavy hand pressing your neck leaving your ass up.

“I never got tired of how beautiful you look like this” His hand tracing down your spine to squeeze your ass before smacking his palm off it.

“Think you can cum for me again around my cock?” He used your arousal coating himself, brushing your clit sending more aftershocks through you.

“Think you should make sure I do” you challenged.

The ‘making love’ had fully disintegrated. He fucked you like it was the last thing he’d do on this planet. Your hips feeling the sweet bruising under his grip. You were panting half into the mattress until your hair was yanked back; moans flooding into the room.

“Please Hobi” you begged when he stilled inside you. He didn’t respond only to shove you on your back. He’d refused himself his favourite position.

“It’s been too long I wanna see your face when you come undone” he shoved your legs round his waist tightening them. Arms pinned above your head, held captive under one his hands; the other had his weight spread through his hand at the top of your chest. It drove you insane and had you clenching around him when he wasn’t being an asshole and pulling out frustrating slowly. You swore at him a lot, fully taking advantage of the lack of rules that he’d normally set

“I forgot how bratty you can be…without punishments…or a gag” He panted, hips snapping into you harder yet more infrequent.

“So you better cry my name out, wanna cum princess?”

“Fucking hell yes” the end of your words ended up being muffled by the handful of sheet you’d shoved over your mouth. He’d been keeping you on edge, teasing every last frustrated gasp, every last moan from your lips. Slowing down exactly when you needed him not to.

“let go”

//

“Are we actually going to talk now? And I’m absolutely starving, you went to roll out of bed. You were met with resistance in the form of Hobi climbing on top of you.

“I supposed we should. Apple Pie with custard coming up.”

//

“It was painful how much I missed you” Hobi admitted in between mouthfuls.

“I was right there at home Hobi” He sat up, slid the bowl on the bedside table looking at you with bloomed pupils, shining yet shying away to his hands which encased yours.

“You were right, I was away a lot more than my already usualness. And I was doing it on purpose”

It was a burn that scolded you, searing sadness across your heart. The thought of Hobi purposely staying away, the thought he didn’t love or want to see you dragged the colour from your face. You pulled away and joined him sitting. His eyes brows grey further apart, eyes widening pulled open by sheer panic.

“Hey” the cushioning soft tone of his voice, a cold compress on the burn. Forcing your hand up to his cheek.

“But not because I wanted to be away or I didn’t want you” He rushed.

“It’s just…” He sighed, shoulders dragged down in the secret he didn’t want to share.

“Yoongi is pretty in love with you and it was just becoming really hard to see the pain on his face”

Your brain could not compute the indecipherable code being spoken to you

“He… I mean I don’t think he realised I knew, I heard tears from him talking to Joon. He said it just kinda happened. I mean you can’t help that sort of thing but he was just hurting. From then I noticed more and more his eyes when I’d leave, him knowing I was coming home to you.”

You barely realised you’d stop breathing.

“Oh…I…I don’t know what to say” Mind wiped, completely.

“I didn’t know how tell you, it wasn’t my place. I guess I just kinda hoped you’d let the extra time away slide. I… I’m sorry, I never meant for you to feel so unimportant to me. You mean literally everything to me. I love you boo and I was so miserable without you in my life. Please forgive me”

“Will it be any different? I mean can you cope with Yoongi’s…”

“My schedule is still nuts…”

“I don’t mean your schedule dummy. You know I support absolutely everything you’re doing”

“Yeah, Yoongi’s fine now, and even if he still had feelings for you I can’t stay away from you”

You’d never heard Hobi sound so resolute about anything apart from how much he loves sprite.

“Please move back in. The fact I don’t get to curl up into you when I come home kills me”

Hope you enjoyed ready :)

#smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #mwlproject #bts smut #btswriterscollective #jhope #Jung HoSeok #bts #btssmut #bts x reader

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

it’s what you deserve - pt. seven

summary: you finally have the chance to make things right, once and for all.

word count: 2.4k

link to the rest of the series

You had never seen Bee so happy as when you had told her that you ended things with Max. And it was odd, you had just broken up with your boyfriend, but you weren't sad. More, hopeful. When you had explained this to Bee, she just smiled widely at you and pulled you in for a bone crushing hug.

You watched the rest of the game with a little more enthusiasm, yelling at the refs for bad calls like you normally would. And instead of following Brett's figure on the ice as he skated around with guilt evident on your face, you looked determined. Determined to make things right, to do what would make you happy for the first time in months. Though, you still couldn't take your eyes off of him.

And so, you made a plan.

Work the next day had been absolute torture, the only respite you got was when you were able to check your phone every once in a while to see if Adam had texted you. He was vital to your plan, and once you had gotten the message that everything was all set on his end of things, you were able to breath a bit easier.

You wanted to text Brett and tell him that he had been right. That Max didn't deserve you and that you figured out how you should be treated. You thought that since he played a direct role in you ending things with your toxic ex, he had a right to know what happened.

But that was all too much to say over the phone. You wanted to be able to see his reaction and not just some typed out response. You wanted to be able to hold him tight as you told him you returned all the feelings he confessed to having just two days prior, and that just wasn't a possibility over a FaceTime call.

You raced back to the apartment after work and found Bee already ready to go, telling you she had picked out your outfit for the night. You simply rolled your eyes with a grin, brushing past her and into your room to find out that she had, in fact, laid out an outfit for you on your bed like she was your mother. The jeans and white sneakers she had picked out were fine, something you probably would have worn regardless, but the top she had was new—and definitely didn't come from your closet.

“Adam had that at his apartment and told me to get it for tonight, just don't ask me why he had it.” Bee explained with a chuckle as you picked up the Rangers jersey, the number twenty-one obvious and Howden scrawled across the back. Your heart raced at the idea of wearing his name, and a broad grin broke out across your face.

“Just remind me to thank him later.” You were grinning widely, shooing her out of the room so you could change. It felt right, wearing his name and number, and it gave you hope that this was going to work out.

It wasn't until you were walking into the Flyers arena did you begin to panic that maybe this was a bad idea. Would he want to see you after the way things had ended? Or would he be too upset that you had chosen Max over him, no matter how briefly, to give you a chance? Would he even want to be with you since you just got out of a relationship?

Your arm was linked through Bee's so you wouldn't lose each other in the crowd, so she felt you slow down the closer you got to the ice. You had already scanned your tickets in, having gotten the ones that Adam left at will call specifically for you and Bee—you really did have to remember to thank him. Between work and the travel time to get to Philly, by the time you arrived at the rink practice was over and you wouldn't actually get to talk to any of the boys until after the game.

“Get out of your head, okay? It'll be fine.” You tried to listen to Bee's words, you really did, but it was borderline impossible for you to not think about the multitude of ways this could blow up in your face.

When the players came onto the ice for puck drop you couldn't tear your gaze away from Brett—nothing new, honestly. You were a few rows off the ice, so you didn't blame him for not spotting you no matter how much you stared at him.

As the game progressed, you honestly couldn't be bothered to remember who scored what and how. Bee elbowed you every time someone scored, but your attention was fully on the brunette you held your heart. He hadn't smiled once the entire time he had been on the ice, and that was what cut you deep, thinking that it was your fault he wasn't having fun doing the one thing he loved the most. Guilt crept into your chest and gripped your being as the final seconds ran down on the clock.

The Rangers won, but just barely. Brett had taken a few necessary penalties, but you were glad he hadn't gotten hit like the night before. You weren't sure you could handle seeing that live. You hoped that what you were about to do would snap him out of his funk, and he could get back to playing as good as he had been the past few weeks.

Bee led you down to where Adam had told her to meet him, and you started shifting nervously on your feet. You chatted absentmindedly with Bee, knowing she was only telling you about what your old neighbor had said to her that morning to distract you. She peppered in a few comments to assure you that it would all be fine, and you were thankful for her, because before you even knew it players started filing out of the locker room.

“Please tell me you're here to make up with him.” You jumped in surprise at the deep voice belonging to Chris Kreider, somehow not noticing him approach. He was one of the teammates that had invited you out to dinner with Brett and the rest of the guys a few times, so you knew him decently well. You nodded at him, cheeks flushing at the fact that the older player probably knew what happened between you and Brett. Chris just grinned, pulling you into a one armed hug that caught you a bit off-guard. “The kid's head over heels for you.”

“I just hope he still feels the same, after everything, you know.” You mumbled, finally letting some of your concerns out in the air. Chris just laughed, teaming up against you with Bee who rolled her eyes at you. You were fighting a losing battle against the two of them.

“Trust me, he does.” Chris' words barely had time to register before Bee was leading him away, having spotted Adam walk out trailed by the boy you had been waiting for. They both muttered ‘good luck’ and 'see you later' before they left, but you hadn't really heard them. Your attention was focused solely on Brett, who hadn't seen you yet.

In the time it took him to realize you were there, you cataloged his features. He looked tired, deep bags under his eyes and a heavy slump to his shoulders that didn't come from the hard game. His was tie loose and hair a mess, he didn't even bother to style it after the post-game shower. Everything about the way he looked told you had been struggling with how things had ended the last time he was at your apartment, and that it effected him just as much as it did you. Still, he was just as devastatingly handsome as you remembered.

His head snapped up to look at Adam, who had elbowed him in the side to try and get him to notice you. There were only a few feet separating you from him, and he had yet to even see you. It was only when Ryan Lindgren called out something along the lines of ‘look in front of you, dumbass’ did he finally spot you.

He froze mid-step, not even acknowledging how his sudden stop made Buch bump into his shoulder as he swerved to avoid completely colliding with him. For a second, he just stared at you like he didn't quite believe that you were there, in Philly, wearing his jersey and waiting for him outside the locker room.

But then he snapped out of whatever daze he had been in, and he quickly closed the distance between you and him, pulling you into a hug before you could even blink. It felt so right being in his arms, that you sighed deeply, unsure how long you had been holding in your breath. You were certain you could have stayed right there forever, but the hoots and cheers from the boys around you had you pulling back.

Brett still didn't say anything, instead he threaded his fingers through yours and used your conjoined hands to tug you down a quieter hallway. Even when he stopped moving and decided you were far enough away from prying eyes, he didn't drop your hand—and you'd be fine if he never let go again.

“You're here.” He muttered, eyes roaming over you, as if he was searching for something wrong, waiting for you to come bash his hopes once more.

“I am.” You spoke just as quiet. “I broke up with Max.”

And at that, his smile was absolutely blinding. It was the biggest smile you'd ever seen on him, and you were certain his cheeks had to hurt. The type of smile that had you smiling too, though with Brett, every smile of his had you grinning right along with him.

“You know, I meant what I said about it not having to be me.” His smile faltered a bit, softening to one that held some sadness, despite the fact that he looked at least ten pounds lighter as a result of your confession. “I'm just glad you realized you deserve more than him.”

“Brett.” You took in a breath to steady yourself, wrapping your arms around his neck to stop him from rambling. It effectively shut him up, and his hands came to rest on your waist. You were smiling now, you couldn't help it. You were in the arms of someone who treated you right and wanted the best for you, even if it meant he couldn't have you. “What if I said I wanted it to be you?”

“Please,” he started, his right hand coming up to cup your chin as his face dropped closer to yours. “please tell me that it's me.” And with how close he was to you, you couldn't even begin to formulate a coherent sentence, so you simply nodded.

What happened next was long awaited, having been built up since probably the first moment you had laid eyes on him in that cafe. Brett finally closed the gap between the two of you, his lips pressed against yours with a sweetness and a desperation only matched by you. It was like you both were afraid of what would happen when you pulled away, so it was delayed as long as it could be.

Eventually, you did have to breathe though, and you disconnected your lips first. Brett didn't move back far, forehead resting on yours and nose pressing into your cheek. The scruff of his beard scratch your chin and drew a giggle out of you, one that Brett matched as he pulled you flush against his chest in a tight hug.

“Yeah, I definitely want it to be you.”

The next few weeks with Brett were infinitely better than the months spent with Max. Somehow, even though Brett had a busier schedule, he still found more time to see you than Max ever did and quickly you forgot completely about your ex. You had never smiled and laughed so much as you did when you spent time with Brett—you were certain he was your person and you were his.

“Can I take your order?” The waiter asked, and you shook your head politely. You didn't miss the quick glance he shot to the unoccupied chair across from you, and how he knew you'd been sitting by yourself for ten minutes.

“My boyfriend is on his way, I'll wait for him.” You explained, and the waiter gave you a tight-lipped smile before heading to check on another table. Almost as if on cue, your boyfriend entered the restaurant, looking at you with an apologetic smile as he approached.

“Sorry I'm late, I just got caught up in traffic and I left late because Adam made fun of my shirt and I had to change—” Brett started rambling out apologizes as soon as you were in earshot. He cut himself off as you chuckled, smile telling him that you weren't upset at him.

“Brett, you're five minutes late, and you texted saying you were running behind schedule.” You explained, standing to greet him with a hug and a kiss before you both took your seats again. Except, he stole two more quick kisses before you were able to sit back down.

“Yeah, but I know you usually get to restaurants early, so I try to get there early too.” He pouted, reaching across the table to grab your hand and press a kiss to your palm before threading your fingers together and resting them on the table. You just smiled at him, a look of pure adoration on your face that your boyfriend easily picked up on. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It's stupid.” You shook your head, ignoring his question and the blush that bloomed on your cheeks. Brett wasn't buying it, and instead raised a brow in silent question. “It's just, I've never had a guy care about me like you do, you know?” And for a moment, he didn't respond. Instead, he just smiled softly at you, looking at you the way you had been looking at him just moments before. And when he did speak, it was barely above a whisper.

“It's what you deserve.”

#brett howden #Brett Howden x reader #Brett Howden imagine #Brett Howden imagines #its what you deserve #New York rangers #New York rangers imagines #hockey #hockey imagine #nhl #NHL imagine

[rorykillmore]

posting up a birthday gift fic for @alula !!! aka i decided to ambush them by not telling them i usually do this for my friends’ birthdays until like yesterday, but it’s the same idea! this is basically just like 1000+ words of gay introspection for our one villaneve rp verse, but one time they attacked me w something they wrote re: eve trying to tell villanelle she loves her while the latter was sleeping and i guess i just filed that away in the back of my brain until i could find a way to get revenge.

anyway a few nice words: i hope you have a great birthday scully!!! and. this might sound like a very low bar bc 2020 has been awful for all of us i’m sure, but meeting you and becoming friends has genuinely ended up one of the brightest highlights of my year and i’m so glad we stumbled across each other bc we both wanted someone to yell about ke with.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! 

‘Feelings that can’t be put into words’ has never sounded like anything but a challenge to Villanelle. There are 6,500 different languages in the world. It stands to reason that if you can’t find the words you’re want in one of them, you just have to look somewhere else. 

The problem is -- she knows the words she wants to say to Eve. She has them. They exist in all 6,500 of those languages.

She’s already said them once.

She wonders to herself, over and over:  if she said them again, would they ruin everything a second time?

The textbook definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. So Villanelle tries - in every way she knows how - not to be the same person she was before. Not to make the same mistakes.

“I want to tell you something,” Villanelle murmurs, catching Eve by the hand. It’s late, and they’ve just dropped Jin Ling off at his new apartment and packed it full of food and clothes (Villanelle had wanted to make sure he had clothes) and dog toys in preparation to move him in. Eve looks as tired as Villanelle feels when she turns back towards her, but the look in her eyes is as alert and questioning as it always is when she’s giving Villanelle her attention.

I’m listening. I’m usually listening when it comes to you,  Eve had told her once, and, I spent a ton of time listening to you before you even talked to me, and Villanelle had tucked all of those words away somewhere close to her heart.

They make Villanelle hesitate now, on the verge of something not for the first time.

(The first time had been the first night they’d spent together, in between the heated kisses Villanelle had trailed across her skin and in the contented quiet afterwards. Or after that, the night Eve had spent curled up in her lap after Villanelle had wiped away the tears she hadn’t quite understood in the moment.)

She deludes herself, in those few seconds in which Eve’s eyes meet her’s, that she’ll say it this time. But her throat starts to feel dry, and instead --

“I think I am starting to enjoy it.” Villanelle swallows and offers a crooked smile. “This... helping people?”

It isn’t a lie. So that’s something. It’s not the rush or the elation she remembers she used to get when she was hurting people -- it’s more like a quiet, contemplative sort of ache in her chest. She doesn’t know why she likes it. Maybe it’s the novelty of it all. 

Maybe it’s the way Eve looks at her now, the way she almost seems to soften at the edges. It wasn’t what Villanelle wanted to say, but the unguarded way Eve smiles back at her and doesn’t let go of her hand, it makes Villanelle decide that maybe it was worth it anyway.

It’s not as though she doesn’t have plenty of other chances.

She and Eve see each other nearly every day now. Most mornings start with them waking up together, and most evenings end with one of them outside the other’s door (or window, when it comes to Villanelle’s preferred method of entry). Villanelle starts to wonder how well she’d sleep in an empty bed, she’s gotten so used to tucking herself against Eve’s back, slinging an arm around her waist. She wouldn’t dare call it domestic, or normal, or any of the things Villanelle knows she can’t have and would never try to force Eve into.

But it’s... them. All the heat and passion and intensity Villanelle already knows so well, but also all of the smaller things that she is still learning that somehow feel equally a part of whatever they are. 

So it’s not as though the opportunities aren’t there. It’s just that it never feels like the right time.

She doesn’t want to scare Eve off or bring all their memories of Rome back into the forefront, and above all else, she doesn’t want to lie to her. Or to herself. And no matter how certain Villanelle is that she’s never felt this way about anyone else in her life, or that she wouldn’t have thrown her life as an assassin away and risked the terrifying reality of not knowing who she is for anyone but Eve, or that she might actually choose to die before ever hurting Eve again, she... can’t be sure that any of that counts as love. Because she doesn’t know what love looks like, or what it feels like, she doesn’t know if she really was wrong the last time she said it and she doesn’t know who to ask.

You don’t understand what that is. 

I want to, Villanelle thinks she should have said. I’m trying. I’m sorry. I’ll find a way to make it better, just know that I’m trying.

But that hadn’t been how Rome had ended. And since then, so much has happened, and Villanelle has had to ask herself so many unpleasant questions that she once would have preferred not to ever think about at all, but... 

Maybe that’s a part of it. Of trying. Because after she’d gone home to her family, to her mother, she’d almost forgotten that it was worth trying at all, and Eve had reminded her so effortlessly just by showing up here, in this strange, dreamlike alternate reality. And that has to mean something, doesn’t it? That Eve always makes her want to try?

That Eve takes her coffee black (sometimes), that she raised venus fly traps as a kid and loved a girl in college, that she had a chicken for a pet and loves cute newborn kittens and scrawny stray cats, and that she thrives on the arguments she pretends to hate, that she cares about people even when they’ve done very bad things, that she’s fighting all the time to figure herself out, to know herself, that it scares her all the time but that she does it anyway. All of that means something to Villanelle. She wants to find the words for how much she cares about every part of Eve that Eve ever lets her see, and they’re right there, Villanelle knows that, just --

She never knew that ‘knowing’ and ‘saying’ could be such complicated different things.

So what’s there to do, Villanelle decides, shying away from paralyzing nerves that don’t at all become her, except keep trying? 

“I want to tell you something,” she murmurs again a few days later, this time into the place where the slope of Eve’s neck meets her shoulder, where Villanelle can hide her face.  She knows that’s cheating, though, and eventually stretches out and lifts her head and props herself up on one elbow, smiling languidly down at Eve in an effort to pretend that her heart isn’t nearly beating out of her chest.

This time, it’s the morning after they’ve officially defined their... relationship. Villanelle has tried to play it cool, really - she had laughed and was appropriately incredulous when Eve had confessed she’d been texting Hanzo about them, of all people - but she’s also spent the last twelve hours (or what she’s spent of them awake and coherent and not preoccupied by Eve herself, anyway) tossing around the word girlfriend in her head like some giddy teenager.  

Eve, perhaps hoping Villanelle is about to reveal a similarly embarrassing story about someone she has consulted for advice about their relationship, raises her eyebrows expectantly. “Don’t hold me in suspense.”

“I...” Villanelle falters again. Swallows. Tries to fight off an inward surge of frustration at herself, because that will definitely ruin the moment. And maybe some of it shows on her face, in her eyes, some vulnerability or fear or just how much she feels for Eve, because Eve’s bemusement softens into something more like concern.

“Villanelle --” Eve reaches up, and Villanelle feels the warmth of her hand against her cheek. She remembers the first time, what feels like so long ago back in Eve’s kitchen when this very same gesture was used to disarm. Now it feels... different, and Villanelle leans into her touch without even really thinking  about it. “ -- It’s okay. You can tell me.”

Villanelle knows Eve too well not to sense her nerves. Maybe she’s already guessed what Villanelle wants to say, or maybe she hasn’t and it’s the uncertainty that’s killing her, but she waits for Villanelle anyway, tells her that it’s okay anyway, doesn’t prompt or push her or try to deflect. 

And inexplicably it’s not a big fireworks moment, but this small, singular instance of selfless, uncharacteristic patience that makes Villanelle certain. Or maybe she always has been, and it’s just that she needs Eve there in front of her, both their guards dropped, for it to feel tangible. 

Villanelle doesn’t know what she is or isn’t, whether her mother and the Twelve and everyone who’s ever told her what she’s supposed to be were right or wrong, but she knows that she loves Eve. If there was ever a person she was capable of shattering every expectation and defying all the odds to love, it’d be Eve. And if she can’t quite bring herself to say it yet... that doesn’t make it any less true.

She covers the hand resting against her cheek with her own and turns her head just enough to press a feather-light kiss to the inside of Eve’s palm, barely able to hide a smile when some of Eve’s quiet apprehension seems to melt. Then for good measure - and because she can’t stop herself - she leans down and kisses Eve properly, slow and somehow unhurried despite every feeling she is determined to pour into it.

And she hadn’t meant to linger, but Eve kisses her back without hesitating, and Villanelle’s always found it difficult to resist getting lost in her. So she gives in, doesn’t resist, and like always with Eve, finds there is something strangely grounding in letting herself get lost. She hopes Eve feels it too. She hopes that - for right now - it’s enough.

“I’ll tell you later,” Villanelle murmurs against her lips once she’s just barely pulled away, and tries to make it sound like a promise.

#i hardly ever write stuff with this little dialogue but whatever. hopefully it works #fic

[ma-gic-gay]

This is bad.

Boss and second best friend is presumed dead and I just had sex with his wife who happens to be my best friend bad. In his bed. In his house. Pretty sure I need to go and repent at a church when I'm not even religious bad.

Oh right, that's what happened. Minus the going to a church and confessing his sins to a priest part. That's probably what he should do, but he doubts he'll actually go through with that. A priest would probably somehow get to Sam or worse, end up knowing where Sonny is and been harboring him all this time. As far as he knows, you can't really have a priest not tell your secrets.

He's fucked. Scratch that, they're fucked.

Wrong choice of expression there. Very wrong. Ironic, but severely wrong expression.

What the hell is he supposed to do from here? What are they supposed to do from here? Go and confess their sins to a pastor? Too long and they'd probably end up in jail if that happened. Pretend it never happened? He knows that's not going to happen. There's going to be a long, drawn out conversation about it. Move to different continents and never speak to each other again? Too extreme, not to mention unlikely. Something would happen and they'd both be pulled back to town or to whatever continent they were on to post bail or something. Besides, they'd been friends forever. They could never not be in each other's lives. It was impossible.

Oh god. They're friends. No benefits. The last time there had been benefits attached, they had hated each other. Not in a typical "I hate you bitch" way, but in a "it doesn't matter if I never see you again. In fact, my life would be better if I didn't" way.

Needless to say they were not going back to those days. It would be impossible now; both had intertwined lives. Their kids were close and both were close to each other's kids. Extra parents, if you will. Not to mention, they both knew way too much about each other.

Irony is a cruel mistress, he thinks, thinking back to when they didn't even know each other's names. Those were the days of Robin and picking up random girls in bars before he learned his lesson about the girls he picked for his hookups carefully because if he didn't, there was a chance he'd end up with his entire life turned into a tornado of blonde hair and getting her out of trouble.

The quiet snoring at his side suddenly came to a stop, a telltale sign she's woken up or close to it.

Suddenly, he's all too aware of what happened last night between the two and what's going on now. They'd had sex (protected, at least they were stable enough to remember that) in the house Sonny bought, in his bed. The kids were at their friends houses, or in the case of Avery at her mother's. So at least the kids hadn't heard them.

Flashforward what he imagines can't be more than twelve hours and now they're in Sonny's bed, naked and both awake or waking up. The kids wouldn't suspect anything, provided none of his clothes besides his jacket were downstairs. He'd spent the night in general plenty of times and that had increased in this year.

Granted, their impulse control last night was to be questioned given that this had happened.

"Jason? What are you doing here?" Carly asks tiredly, still wiping the sleep out of her eyes. "And where the hell is your shirt? Or mine, for that matter- oh god."

She remembers. Dammit. This is both a good and a bad thing.

Good in the thing that he's now confirmed that they were sober, bad that now they've got decisions to make and neither of them make the best decisions when it's early in the morning and they're uncaffeinated.

"We need to talk about this, but first, coffee. Where the hell are our clothes? Please tell me we didn't leave them downstairs," she groans.

They find their clothes quickly enough and get dressed slightly awkwardly before heading downstairs to brew coffee.

The moss bowl that seems to continually grow, to the point that Jason was gifted some moss to go in his apartment as a housewarming gift from Carly, seems extra interesting this morning as he studies it intensely. That is one big moss plant. Over the course of a year, it got much larger than expected.

"Alright, we are not going to stand here in this awkward silence. We are going to discuss what happened last night and then figure out what the hell is means," she decides, handing him a mug of coffee.

"What is there to discuss? We had sex," he answers her simply after taking a sip of coffee.

"That's the exact thing we have to discuss."

"We're both very aware of how that works, Carly. Would you like me to pull up a diagram online and explain it?" Jason teases her.

"No smartass, I want to discuss the sex."

"Oh god," he groans into his coffee. "It's not even ten am and you've already decided that this is the big fight of the day for you. Couldn't this wait until, I don't know, Scout graduates college?"

"Jason," she warns, "humor me and discuss last night. I promise that this conversation will end sooner if you just agree to actually have it sooner."

"It'll end ten minutes before my funeral as opposed to at my funeral, then," he jokes.

"Do you want me to think about your death?"

"Alright fine I give in, we'll talk about it."

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" She asks triumphantly.

"You are lucky I don't have anything else to do today besides paperwork I can have someone else do," he answers.

There's not enough coffee in the world to stop the headache he can feel she's going to bring to him today. It's a sixth sense by now, that she'll be giving him a headache that won't be fixed until the problem is solved.

In a weird way, it's a relief know that she does that. It's comforting in the strangest way.

Neither of them claimed to ever understand why it's calming.

"I know," she says, a smirk on her face. "Now, to the discussion about last night. We did it."

"We have already confirmed that information, yes," he agrees.

"It was good."

"Yeah."

"We're friends."

"Correct."

"I need more than one word answers!"

"We're reviewing information we both already agreed on and these aren't questions."

Sighing, Carly dramatically sips her coffee, getting a quiet chuckle out of her friend. "I still would appreciate an answer that wasn't a synonym of yes. Maybe one that's, I don't know, five or more words."

"Then ask me a question."

"Fine. Where do you want to go from here? Do we stay friends or be more or be friends with benefits or something else I haven't thought of yet?" The blonde rambles, caffeine kicking in.

"You're rambling."

"I'm aware."

"Just checking."

"Answer the question!"

"Calm down," he urges. "I don't know where to go from here."

"You're always the one who knows what to do in situations like these, not me!"

"Yes, I always come up with a plan of what to do when you and I hook up a day after Christmas. Because we've been in this situation loads of times before," he chuckle sarcastically.

"I meant when I do something impulsive, or you do something impulsive smartass," Carly glares at him playfully.

"Ah yes, my life's sole purpose: Stopping you from doing stupid things. And when that fails, getting you out of trouble," he jokes again. "I don't know what to do, for once. We may have a major problem on our hands."

"May have? Jason, if you can't figure out what to do from here, I think we're in major trouble! I haven't made a major life decision without a severe amount of your input in a very long time," the blonde exclaims, downing the last of her coffee like it'll help her make a decision of what to do here.

"That probably says something about you being codependent on me."

"You love me running into your apartment with your problems."

"Sometimes. Other times, your problems and plans are so stupid I don't understand them but somehow they hinge on me going along with them."

"Well of course they hinge on you going along with them? You're my best friend, if they didn't I'm convinced that our friendship would simply never recover from it. We'd live our lives without a single hope of ever getting back to this because you didn't go along with my plan," she says dramatically, smiling. "And that would be the worst thing to ever happen to either of us."

"Mhm," he says, rolling his eyes but a small smile pulls at his lips. "I believe you decided that we needed to figure this out."

"Well we do!"

"So far you've only stated the facts of what happened and some of the options of what to do. You're the one who decided we have to figure out exactly what this means before I'm even fully coherent."

"Drink your coffee faster."

"Solid advice coming from a woman who's already formed three plans before her first cup of coffee."

"You're right, there are about seventeen different possibilities in my mind at the moment based off of what decision we come to," she smiles at him. "Would you like to hear them?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Then let's get it over with," he sighs, sipping his coffee in an attempt to not deal with a massive headache.

"First scenario is that we pretend this never happened and stay exactly the same. No awkwardness, last night is essentially wiped from our memories. Solid option, but it's impossible. Second is friends with benefits but we don't catch feelings. Again, solid option with no to minimal awkwardness, but I have a feeling we both know it won't end up happening, especially with me. Third is friends with benefits but we do catch feelings. Could end in repressing feelings or could end with us dating. Either way, ends up being fairly complicated. Fourth is that we begin dating. This one has equal pros and cons, primarily that if that ends up going south we won't have our friendship being the same and that would be the worst but that if it goes well, marriage. No more kids though, I think we've got enough of those.

"Fifth is we both move away and never see each other again. Not happening. We both would end up arrested. Or killed," Carly shudders at the thought, "Sixth option is that you go back to Sam and I begin the rather depressing at this age journey of dating. Seventh is that we acknowledge last night but continue as friends. Can't decide the pros and cons of that one."

"I haven't even finished my coffee yet and you're already planning seven different ideas for your future?" Jason asks, impressed and terrified at the same time. "Good god."

"Well now you have seven options to choose from. No pressure but if you choose five, I will never forgive you."

"Five is automatically out of the story, don't worry about that."

"In that case, you have six options to choose from."

"Why can't you choose?"

"Because I'm incapable of making a decision of this caliber on my own."

"But I'm not?"

"Fine, we'll make this decision together. After all, it affects us both." Carly agrees against her better judgement. "We should make a list."

"A list?" He groans. "This sounds dangerously close to a plan."

"It's not a plan, though. That's the beauty of it, we make a pros and cons list. From there, we make our decision."

"Most people would flip a coin."

"That's a terrible way to make a decision."

"Not really but fine, we'll make a list."

"I knew you'd give in."

To be continued when I'm not half asleep

oh dear-

[cloudshapedpatch]

Misguided Royalty

Chapter Three: Impulse Control Has Left The Palace

First / Previous / Next (coming soon!)

💚 💚 💚 💚 💚 💚 💚 💚

Marinette Cheng was a bright girl, but she could be quite impulsive. When she set her heart on something, she pleaded and schemed until she got it. 

And at this very moment, sitting at the dinner table with her mother and the Emperor, she decided she wanted to go see the town down the hill. 

She had seen it from afar; if she leaned over the edge of her balcony she could see a few scattered homes. The best way to see it was from one of the tall castle towers that she was never allowed in, or from the garden. Since the garden was no longer safe (curse Chat Noir and his nosy tendencies) she could not see it. 

"Mother, have any citizens seen a likeness of me?" The words blurted out before she could filter them. A hand slapped over her mouth after them.

"That is an odd question. I cannot say that you have ever gotten a portrait painted of you. Would you like one?" 

"Well, perhaps not—"

"A fantastic idea, Sabine!" The Emperor boomed with a laugh, "But we should wait until she becomes Empress. We will need one then, and there is no point in having two."

"I suppose you are right. A fine decision." Her mother said, then continued to eat silently.

The princess was glad the attention was no longer focused on her. It gave her a little more time to think. If she truly wanted to go through with this awful idea, she was going to need all the logic she could get. 

Unfortunately, logic was far gone. The princess had a letter sent to Damocles with something along the lines of 'take a day off, Empress Sabine's orders', and told her mother she would be spending the day with Damocles in her room. The stage was set, an escape route planned, guards bribed and hummingbird fed, and she was ready for adventure. 

Tikki slept above her head and awoke her before dawn the next morning. As quiet as a mouse, she slipped into commoner's clothing she had borrowed from a maid and secured a satchel with some silver and copper coins (and maybe some gold, who knew what she would need it for?) at her hip. Picking up Tikki (and requesting she not make a sound), she made her way down the servant's halls and through hidden doors until she reached the garden. 

Then, along the creek she crept, past the cherry blossoms, and slowly, into the stable. 

There were many horses she could take. She had her own pure white horse, but that would have given away her riches to the public. Manchu would have to wait for another day. 

At least the princess has some sense. I don't think this is a good idea at all.

Marinette spoke soothing words to a brown horse with one black leg and a large black patch on his neck, his name was Fengfeng. This particular horse had a thick shaggy mane and was quite gentle. Marinette had never ridden him before, but she hoped that his calm demeanor would allow for a smooth ride. 

Much to her delight, Fengfeng allowed the princess to brush him and lay on the blanket and saddle. She's never stopped quietly reassuring him even as they were coming out of the stable and rushing down the road. 

She was free! She could ride down the paved street until the next bend, where it faded off into a packed dirt path. Only a few more yards, and then—

"Your Highness! Where are you going?"

Shit. 

A guard Marinette had never seen before stood at the large gate. He was alone, and Marinette thought wryly it was because she had promised the other one some cookies to be absent for the morning. The horse came to a stop a few steps away from the man. 

"I... I was just going for a ride! It's lovely this time of year."

"You are not supposed to be outside. It is too dangerous!"

This guy was definitely new. Was today his first day? Surely she'd have seen him before now.

"You're new here, aren't you?"

This question confused the guard, and a sly idea came to the princess. "Yes, Your Highness."

The princess slouched against the horse's neck and gave her sweetest smile. "What's your name?"

"...Bruel, Ivan, Your Highness."

"Oh, please, call me Marinette."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Your Highness."

She straightened up as tall as she could, the smile never leaving. "Well, Sir Bruel, you have a lot to learn. What do you want, pastries? Some clothes? Do you want money?"

"N-no! I cannot be swayed. You must go inside."

Marinette was getting desperate. The sun had started to rise and if she didn't leave soon, she would be caught and never allowed to leave her room again. She jumped down off the horse and hugged the gaurd. "Oh, please sir! You don't understand. Ever since I came to this country four months ago I have not left the palace at all! I want to see the village yonder, I want to see what it's like! I need to, sir, if I'm going to be a proper ruler. Please!"

A long sigh was heard form above her, and she knew she had won. 

"Alright, princess. But I will accompany you."

She jumped away from him. "Absolutely not! If you come with me, then everyone will know who I am! I can handle myself."

Before the guard could say anything more, some voices were heard from the garden, along with the clop of horse hooves on rock.

Marinette panicked and pleaded once more with her eyes. 

A look of determination crossed Sir Bruel's eyes. Hastily, he lifted her onto the horse. "Go, before I change my mind."

"Thank you, sir. I won't forget your kindness!"

He slapped the horses rump and she sped off down the road, the air rushing past her flushed face. She had never ridden a horse so fast in her life, and it was exhilarating. When she finally looked back, the palace gates were blocked from her view by trees. And before her, the village came ever closer. She relished in the feeling of freedom coursing through her veins.

It took a little longer than Marinette expected, but finally she could hear the bustling noise of the town. Just down a hill, and then she would be there! How exciting! 

She opted to walk down the hill with the horse in tow to avoid any extra attention. 

At least she is thinking critically now. I mean, who does she think she is? This is incredibly dangerous. What if someone recognizes her? What if— oh no, wait. You'll want to see this. 

She had led the horse to a well near the road to drink. Poor Fengfeng nearly galloped the whole way down, but something tells me he was eager to get out of the stable. While Marinette held onto his lead, she took the time to look around. 

People were milling about everywhere, no one seemed to stand still. Most of the commotion came from her left, where many booths were set up along the backside of houses. A farmer's market! She thought excitedly, and she was suddenly glad she had brought some money. 

Once Fengfeng was done drinking, she tied him to a post where other horses and mules were grazing, and made her way towards the booth nearest her. 

This one sold spices. She had no interest in buying any, but she took the time to smell them.

"Hello, young lady! Would you like some herbs? We just harvested some fresh basil this morning." The old woman behind the table said.

"Oh, no thank you, tàitai. I'm just looking."

"Are you sure? I can give you a pouch for 15 ban liang."

"15? That's a lot for a pouch of basil."

"Where have you been, under a rock? I must feed my children; I charge 15. If you don't like it, you can buy some basil from Hua over there," the woman pointed to the booth across the road, where another old woman was also selling spices. "But she charges 17, so you get better from me."

"Are you talking about me? I can hear you!" The other woman shouted to them.

"Yes! You charge too much!"

"No, you charge too little!"

"No one will buy basil for 17!"

The princess quietly slipped away from the two yelling ladies. The palace cook got basil for 5 ban liang a pouch, so why were these women charging so much? 

She walked down the narrow aisle looking at the various tables laid out with meats, bracelets, hats, and sometimes live animals. Her attention was brought to a man, who looked no older than 40, selling fabrics. 

"Good morning, xiānshēng. You have lovely fabrics."

"Thank you, young miss. Are you looking for something specific?"

"Not really, just whatever looks good."

"Well, how about this nice blue linen. It matches your pretty eyes." The man held up a folded length of light blue fabric. 

She bowed her head slightly as she took the fabric from the man's hands. It was rough over her fingers, and could see it was woven rather loosely, and the wool was coarse. She handed it back to him with a smile and asked about any silks.

"You can't except me to have silks. Ha! I haven't seen a silk merchant in years."

"But don't they come on the Great Wall?"

"Not here. The nice fabrics get taken up by the Emperor. I have the nicest linens around here, I guarantee."

"That's awful! The Emperor can't do that! It's not fair!"

Everyone in the direct vicinity stopped talking to stare at her. 

The man angrily whispered, "You must not speak of the Emperor that way; you will be executed!"

The princess looked in horror at the fear and pity in everyone's eyes, staring at her as if she had grown another head.

Suddenly she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. She was too afraid to look at who it was. 

"I am so sorry for my friend here, xiānshēng." The stranger said, with a voice as smooth as honey. He leaned in to speak quietly to the man behind the table, but still he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, "She isn't quite right in the head, she needs to learn to hold her tongue."

The man nodded solemnly.

"Come, your mother is worried for you." The voice said. Marinette looked up at him and choked on her words. 

Before her stood the most handsome boy she had ever seen. His hair was golden like the sun, his eyes so deep and vibrantly green. He looked to be about her age, but he was almost a whole head taller than her, and quite muscular. 

No coherent words came from her mouth. She nodded dumbly and let him take her away from prying eyes. 

Who was he? Why had he come to her rescue when he didn't know her at all? How was he so attractive?

"That was not smart, speaking of the Emperor that way. He lives only up the hill, you know."

She sighed and exerted her eyes. "But it's true, isn't it?"

The boy shook his head, but the disguised princess could see a smile on his pretty face.

"Thank you. You didn't have to do that."

His hand was still on her shoulder. It sent searing fire through her body. 

"Well, it was the right thing to do."

He suddenly pushed her sideways into a small alley between two buildings. Quiet sounds of ladies washing clothes came from an open window above them. 

A small, wry smile graced his face, but Marinette felt a little uneasy. They were alone now, and she didn't like being trapped by a stranger. 

"What's your name, girl? I think I deserve to know."

Panic seized her. Her name was not Chinese, she knew, and if she told him, he would grow suspicious.

"Bao."

"And your first name?"

"...Genji."

"Well, Genji, it's a pleasure to meet you." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, causing a fiery blush to abrupt onto her cheeks. Quickly, she pulled her hand away and turned away from him.

"Do I get to know your name?"

He chuckled a little bit, and despite her better judgment, Marinette's heart fluttered at the sound. "My name is Adrien. But you don't get to hear my family name."

"Why not? Are you hiding something?"

"Not at all. I just don't give my name to strangers."

She huffed in annoyance. How arrogant! "Well, if that is all, I must be getting home. I have a lot to do, you know."

"I'm sure you do. Let me walk you home, to ensure you arrive safely."

"That won't be needed, I live just down the road."

"Then it's not any problem for me."

"I must get my horse first."

"I can help you mount."

"I can mount myself."

"A lady shouldn't have to."

Frustration bubbled in her chest. Why couldn't he see that she wanted to be left alone? And his smug smile made it worse. 

I don't know, I kinda like him. He's just as sassy as the princess.

Nonetheless, they argued a bit more before finally she agreed to let him walk her to her horse and get her situated. He kept his hand on her shoulder and guided her though the crowd. Though Marinette wished she could shake him off, she was glad he was there with her, as if he was shielding her from the judgmental glares. 

Once she located Fengfeng (and deflected chatter with Adrien about the horse), she got ready to mount, only for him to grab her by the waist and place her on the horse's back. 

She ignored the blush creeping up her neck. "You had no right to touch me in that way."

"You didn't have a problem with it earlier."

She rolled her eyes. "Goodbye, Adrien."

"Will I see you again?"

"It's not likely."

"Anything is possible."

She laughed out of nervousness, wondering if he was going to follow her. But his smile was soft and sweet as he bid her adieu. 

She waved and returned the pleasantry before nudging the horse to start.

Wait. He had bid her adieu. How did he know French?

Startled, she looked back at him, only to see him standing exactly where he was before with the same smug smile on his face. 

Paranoia settled in her bones the entire trip home. 

And her unease only deepened when she arrived at the palace gates and saw her mother and the Emperor waiting for her.

#@mikoriin #i love this au so much #misguided royalty #chapter 3 #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #adrien #adrienette #ml #mlb #secret lovers au #chat noir is an assassin #a bounty hunter and a princess #star crossed lovers #ancient china au #chat noir #princess #empress #my own writing

[another-mexico-oc]

The most used Mexico´ cliches in fanfiction and comics (And surely this can apply to any other OC)

Traducción en Español: AQUÍ

DISCLAIMER:

This post DOES NOT intend to throw shit and attack specific authors or their work, so out of respect we will not mention names. If you have read my other posts you will know that this only has the purpose of entertaining and to give a personal opinion.

Also, this does not intend to be a manual or guide on how to write a good comic or fanfic. It is only a compilation of repetitive elements found throughout these works.

Now, let's continue ...

Hi! How are you doing? I hope you are safe at home, and in case you have to go outside take your precautions.  

I have been in Hetalia's fandom for more than a year, and the Countryhumans' less than a year, and both my cousin and I have seen and read enough material from Mexico's OCs, enough to compile in a list the most popular cliches when reading a fanfic or comic which involves this character. As I said at the beginning, this is not a guide of what to do and what not, but we invite creators to find new ways to tell the same stories (or even new ones) differently and to not fall into the predictable.

( Perhaps it is because in my university career one of my teachers was very demanding with coherent scripts and stories, and that she tended to review them 10 times before giving the approval, that I became very demanding with the creation of stories and characters. But that's my personal issue! )

Sarcastically, this should be called "The clichés that cannot be miss for your Mexico´ story" :

1. The Mexico´OC was created ONLY to be the love interest of another character (the author's favorite):

In the same way, the author´ comics and fanfics will be of the romantic genre, and it will involve his favorite ship (or his various ships if he/she is a multi-shipper). Making a brief conclusion, there are few works in which Mexico stands out as a character, without having the love interest, or the famous harem, as the main plot.

And if you were curious, here is a chart that shows the most used ships in the Hetalia´ case, although in 2020 it may have slight changes:

(Denmark and Norway?! I have never found any fic about them being paired with Mexico)

2. María Sue and Gary Estuardo:

More cliché this could not be. Even when I´m mexican myself, I realize that the representation of my country has received the Mary Sue treatment by the fandom, both in Hetalia and in Countryhumas, and mostly by the latino and mexican community. I already talked about this HERE, but I'll summarize it:

Regardless of whether Mexico is a man or a woman:

- They will be the center of the universe, all the characters will kiss the ground they step on, they will be the most cute person in the world, without flaws, and their greatest virtue will be his or her ethereal beauty that will make everyone to fall in love with them, with just an eye blink.

- It´s never their fault and they will never face the consequences of their actions, e.g. causing WW3. What's even more, he or she is just a poor victim of the evil countries that want to take advantage of his/her territory.

- Having got laid or dating half of the world will not cause them serious consequences or a negative reputation.

- Personality? Oh my, that´s very complicated to write, instead I will narrate how my female Mexico arrived at the restaurant with a dress that highlighted her feminine attributes and how her long and abundant hair made more than one person to sigh; Or how my male Mexico wore tight pants that showed his perfect toned legs, and that when he smiled he made blush every country.

If it was a parody, I'd accept Mexico to be a Mary Sue or a Gary Stu. But usually the authors want you to take the story and the character seriously. So... nope.

3. Plots taken from soap operas, or telenovelas:

Believe it or not, there are authors who have admitted that their Mexico´ fanfics are based on mexican telenovelas. And the worst thing is that telenovelas have the most cliche stories in the world! Think about it, you have a good and humble, but kind of dumb person, who in this case is going to be Mexico, who falls in love with a handsome and rich person, who will obviously be a first world country, but there is someone who wants to finish their romance. You also have forced marriages, fights, misunderstandings, slaps, super dramatic scenes, passionate scenes, cheesy titles...

Mix all this elements together, and you will get:

For comedy purpose, we will be using my OC)

4. The fanfic or comic always, ALWAYS, has to start with a world meeting:

I propose a challenge for you and your friends. Gather together and search for Mexico fanfics, no matter the fandom where you all came from. Take a shot, or put a coin in a jar, for every time the first chapter begins at a meeting.

And almost always it is here where the author builds the romantic story, examples:

“It was a normal day in the boardroom, everyone was arguing while Germany (United Nations if it is a Countryhumans fic) tried in vain to put order and discipline. Only a nation was waiting for a certain person with brown skin and delicate features, to enter through that great door… ”

“Suddenly, a brown skin girl with black and curly hair (Seriously guys, where did you got the idea your average mexican girl has natural curly hair?!) entered the room, and the entire room went silent. Everyone who was there had something to do with that young lady, and seeing her there, turned into a full woman, left them stunned. She was gorgeous.”

Another cliché, but this one can be in any story, is: "Realizing that it was getting late, he got up, took off his pajamas, groomed, combed his hair, and put on his yellow shirt with his ...". There are several ways to start the story without the famous world meeting and the character's morning routine.

5. The harem and love triangles (or any other geometric shape):

This cliché could not be missing either. There are a lot of Mexico x TheWorld´ fanfics. As I said before, I am not against the shipping and the harem of Mexico, each one is free to ship whatever they like, as long as there is respect between the community.

But even when an author wants to focus on a single couple, let's take for example Canada x Mexico, he necesarily has to include USAMex and RusMex as secondary couples, and at some point it gets exhausting and reforces the Mary Sue treatment. It seems that for many authors, Mexico's international relations automatically translate into a “romantic relationship”, and not into a friends or business partners one.

And also, the construction of the relationship it feels sometimes very empty. The author doesn't give time to show how they become a couple or how they found the chemistry in the other. In the third chapter they are already making out!

6. The toxicity:

Oh yeah.

I don't blame this clichá, my cousin and I concluded that healthy relationships are rare in Hetalia and Countryhumans. Practically all countries have one or two flaws that at first sight makes them look toxic. And in Mexico's fanfics and comics, particularly those involving USAMex, the character gets involved in a possessive and codependent relationship.

If Mexico is not a dominant male or a femme fatale, it will be a submissive character who will allow all kinds of abuse. Or in each chapter he or she will doubt about his/her relationship, and will make their partner jealous.

To write a healthy relationship, you must work on the characters' strengths and make them both face their flaws, but instead, the authors take these flaws and make them the basis of the relationship.

7. The party´ chapter in which things get ... heavily crazy:

Okay, so we have our first chapter at the world meeting, where we establish the main couple. Now what we need is the stage for the lovebirds to confess their love ... while being drunk. In many works we will find the countries gathered at a party (usually a Latino party), and the author will narrate all the crazy events that occur, including how Mexico and his sweetheart, will confess their feelings after having taken a few bottles, and sometimes this gets to ...

8. The chapter (or chapters) + 18

This is almost a requirement for many fanfic´ writers, and is always written in the same way. The author will narrate you in detail from the moment they begin to undress until the climax moment.

9. Spain will never stop calling Mexico "New Spain", despite the fact that more than 200 years have passed since the country's independence and its recognition:

And in the case of Hetalia, Mexico must have the same last name as Spain: Hernández Carriedo. Yes, in the same way that United States last name is not Jones, but Kirkland, like its ex-colonizer England; or that Belarus last name is Braginski as his brother Russia, and not Arlovskaya.

Also, although Spain continues to call Mexico "New Spain", he will never call Argentina "Rio de la Plata" or Colombia "New Granada". Similarly, England and France will never call America and Canada "13 Colonies" and "New France" respectively. It seems to be something exclusive for Spain and Mexico.

10. Repetitive references and jokes, or lack of knowledge about the country.

Paco the chihuahua dog, Mexico and Sudamericans fighting over the avocado´s name, Mexico having flashbacks of his/her past with the Aztec Empire and with the USA when they were colonies, Mexico complaining about his/her rulers and corruption within the country, Mexico crying over Texas, Mexico demonstrating his/her beautiful culture to other countries …

Not to mention when someone makes an Mexico OC and his knowledge of the country is very basic: tacos, sombreros, Day of the Dead, always hot climate, the wall issue with America, Aztec and Maya as the only ancestors of Mexico, Texas, burritos... Sorry if I sound rude but, those people need to read and investigate more, and watch less movies where Mexico has that yellow filter.

11. Bad translations

Okay, this is something exclusive of the spanish speaking fandom, but I´ll tell you what´s their issue.

Some author had the brilliant idea to make the dialogues of the countries in their respective languages, followed by placing the Spanish translation in parentheses, and from there many followed suit. The problem is when you notice that they don´t speak or understand the language, and instead they use the Google translator, obtaining results like this:

There have been several occasions when I am reading America and England´ dialogues, and it makes me want to write in the comment section: “DON´T USE THE GOOGLE TRANSLATOR! ” I wouldn´t know what to say from the rest of the countries, since my French is very basic,and I have hardly learned one phrase from the others languages.

My advise for these authors is to find a person who is fluent in the language and who can help them with the dialogues. Or even better, try to avoid this cliché, because at the end of the day people will only read the translation, and it is already implied that each country speaks in its respective language. Also doing this is very pretentious.

The less you can do is to add in the dialogues well know words, like adiós, hola, bonjour, ciao...

12. Changing the canon personalities. Or worse: turn a loved character into a villain.

I already said this HERE too. Basically, for the author to make his Mexico an empathic character and to make other countries to fall in love with him or her, they must conveniently change their canon personalities. This applies more in Hetalia than in Countryhumans, since this last one belongs to the community and nobody can establish what is canon and what is not. On the other hand, in Hetalia the characters already have their own personalities, and neither plays the role of villain. And there is a big difference between being an antagonist or a villain, but I´ll let you to investigate it yourself.  

This cliché is closely related to the Mary Sue treatment, because if I want readers to empathize with Mexico, I must turn another character into an evil person who is going to put him through hardships. And normally this character is the United States or America, whatever you call him.

If I want Russia or Germany to fall in love with Mexico, I must rewrite their characters and throw out the unstable part of Russia, and Germany's little experience regarding romantic relationships, just to make them the most romantic and sentimental people in the world.

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There you have it! I think I already roasted 80% of Mexico fanfiction and fanart, but is not like they are going to dissapear with this post. On the good side, for every time I cringed reading some of these works, I have saved a good amount money, you must try it. I should try an aside blog where I criticize bad fanfiction... But at the moment, that´s all for today! See ya!

#mun says #personal opinion #hws mexico #aph mexico #hetalia mexico #countryhumans mexico #fanfiction reviews #clichés