#when i think about the fact that april is more than halfway over and yet i still barely remember making it past march 2020

[libraryofloveletters]

My Sunshine

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: break ups, soft!Jake, alcohol and the consumption of, a few tears, drunk!birthdayboy!Bob and reader are besties, mentions of throwing up. 

Word Count: 3.4k

Author’s Note: I said I was gonna be normal after I saw the movie and yet, here we are // not gonna lie, hangman >> rooster (I said what I said bye.) 

---- 

“Love me a woman in yellow,” the man calls, leaning on the counter. You glance over your shoulder to see who it is, ignoring his comment. “C’mon sweetheart, you’ve got my attention, do something with it before I die over here.” He says, a hand over his chest to emphasize his impending death.  

“If I look up arrogant in the dictionary, will I find a photo of you, Jake ?” You turn to face him, wiping down the spot next to him. He smiles at you. 

Hangman’s favourite pastime was bugging you. 

You’d been in San Diego since the end of April, your parents sending you down to spend the summer with your grandparents. Instead of relying on them for everything and to avoid spending the whole summer with grandfather and his war facts or your grandmother and her garden, you opted to find a job. 

Penny was more than happy to have the help, especially during the evening rush. You worked most afternoons, the occasional weekend in between. That’s where you met Hangman, or Jake as you call him. 

“If you're not gonna love on me, can a guy at least get a beer, sunshine ?” he calls, the new nickname catching your attention. 

“Sunshine?” you repeat, head cocked to the side. Jake nods, gesturing to your yellow tank top. 

“Sunshine.” he flashes you a smile. 

You hum, internally smiling at the new nickname. Your heart fluttered at the thought of something with Jake, the way he looked at you was enough to make a woman swoon and yet, you brushed off all of his advances. 

Then again, you felt guilty for even thinking about it. You had a boyfriend waiting for you at home, someone who you love dearly. 

Plus everyone knows Jake has a reputation; he’s tall, tan and handsome. Not to mention the charm that oozed from that man, his looks alone are enough to make someone trip over themselves and land straight into his bed. 

Jake watched as you leaned into the fridge under the counter to grab the beer and all you hear is him groan when you turn. 

Phoenix now beside him, Jake rubbing his arm where you can only assume she smacked him. You glance between the two aviators, choosing to ignore what happened when your back was turned. 

You hand the beer over to Jake, he tips the bottle in your direction between taking a sip. 

Phoenix drummed her fingers on the counter, pulling your attention from Jake. “Can I get a beer, y/n?” “Yeah, of course.” You lean down to get another on, popping the top off against the counter. 

Jake’s eyes widened at the sight. “Where’d a girl like you learn to do something like that?” 

Your brows pull together as you hand the beer over to Phoenix, “a girl like.. what ? I work in a bar, Jake. You pick up things.” you laugh, taking the $5 bill she was handing you. 

“Don't listen to him. He wants attention because he's feeling a little lonely without Rooster.” The woman squeezed his shoulders making him roll his eyes.

Phoenix walks off, back to the back corner where the rest of the guys were playing pool. You were re-stacking the glasses when Jake stood, “thanks for the beer, sunshine.” 

“Anytime, Hangman.” you smile at him and he laughs, pointing a finger at you with a rather amused look on his face. He walked backwards about halfway back to the pool table before turning. You watched him, smiling to yourself when you start to feel your phone buzzing like crazy in your back pocket. 

“Penny, I'm gonna take my break now.” You call to the older woman who shouts back an okay as you squeeze through the crowd and slip out the front door. 

The neon lights from the sign reflect onto you and your feet sink into the sand as you take a few steps away from the noise of the bar. There’s a million notifications from mutual friends and as you go through them, one by one, the urge to throw up builds. 

A photo of your boyfriend, his lips on another girl with his arms wrapped around her. 

You felt sick. 

You weren’t sure what to do. You stood outside of the bar in shock. You were disgusted. 

The disgust turns onto anger as you scroll through the messages. 

Buried between the notifications was text from your boyfriend- soon to be ex boyfriend. 

I’m sorry. 

You hit the message, click the little phone icon at the top. You hold it to your ear, listening to the line ring a few times and you think to yourself, why the hell am doing this. 

Just as you go to hang up, he answers. “Y/n? Y/n.. please.. say something.” 

“Is it true?” you whisper into the silence after a minute. 

“Yeah. Y/n.. I’m so sor-” you end the call. You didn’t want an apology or an explanation. 

You wanted to be alone. 

The sand floods into your shoes with each stride, your feet not carrying you fast enough away from the bar. You were out of breath by the time you got to the waterfront, dropping to your knees on the sand as you took a deep breath. 

Inside, Bob nudged Coyote. “What’s going on?” he pointed to you on the beach, Coyote looked out the window and shrugged. 

“Who knows.” he turns his attention back to the pool game. Bob was still looking out the window, his eyes fixed on you.

Hangman tapped his leg with the cue stick. “What’re you looking at?”  

Bob scoots to one side of the window sill, letting Jake peek out of the window. The blonde watched as you shifted to sit on the sand, your hand coming to your face. The breeze blew your hair all over the place and yet you didn’t fix it. It struck him as odd, you were always one to fix something when it was off, even if it was in the slightest of ways.

Hangman dropped the cue stick next to Bob, assuming he’d catch it, which he didn’t but the pilot was already out the door. He walks down the sandy pathway and finds you by the water.

He rests a hand on your shoulder, startling you. “Sorry.” He whispers into the silence.

You hated that word. Fed up of everyone apologizing.

Your words are quiet, so much so that he almost missed them. “Jake, leave me alone.”

He says nothing, instead the man sits next to you. The moon reflected off the water and onto your skin. You had tears on your face that you were trying to wipe away now that he was next to you but they kept falling.

Jake doesn’t say anything, he sits next to you and listens to the waves roll onto the sand. At some point, he shrugs off the button up he had on and draped it over your shoulders. You glance at the man, a white t-shirt clung to his body and in that moment, you can’t help but smile.

Jake smiles too; “there it is.” 

“I’m sorry.” You’re the one apologizing now.

“What for ?” He asks you, shifting so he’s facing you.

Okay calm down, in and out. Just breathe, you’re fine.

“I think I just broke up with my boyfriend.” You manage to get out without tears.

Jake hums, his lips pressed together. “You uh- you had a boyfriend ?” Maybe this is the wrong time to ask that but he didn’t know.

“I did but I just found out he cheated on me.” You show the picture to Jake. His face went from confusion to anger to sympathy in 30 seconds.

Jake wasn’t sure what he could say to make you feel better. No words could fix the way you must have been feeling in that moment so instead, he just opens his arms, letting you fall against him and you did just that.

Jake was the last person you intended to pour your heart out too but he was there and you couldn’t help it.

You pull yourself away from him, “okay leave me alone now.” You breathe, wiping the tears from your face and Jake sits up straight.  

“I won’t leave you alone, but I'll shut up. How about that?” he nudges you with his shoulder. 

You give him a tight lipped smile before laying back on the sand. Jake looks back at you, “sunshine, you’ll get sand in your hair.” He tells you, furrowed brows on his stupidly handsome face. 

“Shut up.” you mutter, staring at the stars above you. 

Jake sighs, lifting his arms above his head before laying back, propping his head on his arms to avoid getting the sand in his hair. He looks over at you, admiring the way the San Diego sun had tanned your skin since you arrived and even in the moonlight, he can see the beauty in you. 

You always had a smile on your face, a kind word to share and no matter how tired you were, you stood at the bar and listened to the same guy tell you his heart break story every night. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about walking into the Hard Deck after a hard day to see you with a smile on your face. 

He could spend forever admiring you; you were the centre of his universe, the air that he breathed, the sun in the sky and didn’t have a single clue about it. 

“Stop staring.” you glance at the blonde. 

“Stop being beautiful.” he quips. 

“Can’t, it's genetics.” you hum, earning you a laugh. 

You shift, resting your head on Jake’s chest and you drape an arm around his torso. “If you tell a single soul about this, I'll tell them about the time you threw up outside because you couldn’t out drink Bob.” you look up at him, a finger pointed in his face. 

Jake smiles, leaning forward to kiss your finger. “Lips are sealed, sunshine.”

----

A few weeks past and you’re still feeling pretty shitty about the breakup. You weren't expecting it and it sort of shook you. The window was opened and you could hear a knock on the door, your grandmother opening it and you hear her voice. You were upstairs getting ready for work and a few moments later, she stood at your bedroom door. 

“Those are pretty,” you say, glancing at the sunflowers she rests on your night table. 

“They’re for you.” 

“For your garden? Grandma, thank you-” “no, no.” The older woman smiled at you. “From a gentleman; rather tall one actually.” She tweaked the flowers in the vase, straightening the arrangement. 

“From who?” you ask her, heading to the window to look outside. The street was empty other than a few kids running around and riding their bikes. 

“Didn’t leave a name.” She tells you, giving your shoulder a squeeze as she passes by. 

There was a piece of paper sticking out of the vase, the words scribbled down on the blank page. 

to my sunshine, 

no one is worthy of those tears. 

xo, Jake.

Did your heart skip a beat like a teenager when you read the note? Yeah it did but you couldn't help it. His words play in your head as you get ready. 

My sunshine. 

His sunshine.  

A yellow sundress sitting in your closest was pulled off the hanger for the first time since your trip to San Diego. It had been sitting in there until you found the right time to wear it and tonight seemed perfect. You were only working half a shift because Penny was letting you off early to join in on the celebration they were having for Bob's birthday.

You got into work around 5:30 and most of the guys were already there setting up their usual corner by the pool table with a banner and a few streamers. 

“Y/n!” Rooster shouts for you as you walk in, “is the banner straight ?” he asks you, he’s holding one side and Coyote is holding the other. Everyone was there except for Phoenix, Bob and Jake. 

“Yup! You’re good.” you smile at him, making your way to put your stuff away and clock in. 

The hours went by and it's a little past 8 when Phoenix comes in with Bob, everyone yelling surprise, starling the poor man half to death. Bob’s grinning ear to ear, thanking everyone but your heart sinks a little when you don’t see Jake. 

Rooster was the first one at the bar, eyeing you in your yellow dress. “You look pretty,” the man smiles at you - his father’s charm, Penny’s words ring in your head. 

“Thank you, Rooster.” You hum, “another round ?” you ask him and he nods. While you were grabbing the beers, you turned to face Rooster for a moment. 

“Where's your other half ?” 

“He’s on his way.” Rooster tells you and your brows pull together. “I didn’t give you a name, Rooster.” you tease him, his face red as he rolls his eyes. 

“We both know that Hangman is the only one you notice anyways.” The pilot says and it’s your turn to blush. Rooster thanks you for the beers and heads back over. 

An excruciating four hours go by and you're finally off shift but while you're behind the counter, you'd be lying if you said you didn't look up every time the bell chimed and someone walked in.

You were sitting on the window sill with Bob, watching some of the pilots play pool. “Having a good birthday?” you ask the guy, smiling to yourself as he swayed side to side to the music playing. 

“The best,” he grins at you, you smile back at him. “I’m glad, you deserve it.” You lean and press a kiss to his cheek, Bob smiles but his cheeks are flushed redder than they were seconds ago. 

“SHOTS!!” Fanboy shouts, coming over with a tray, passing out the gold-ish liquid in the tiny glasses to everyone. “Shots require a toast, captain” Fanboy tells everyone, looking in the direction of their captain. 

Maverick gets up, the glass raised in the air. “Bob, you are an asset to this team,” he nods at the birthday boy who you’ve got your arms wrapped around. “We’re truly lucky to have you and we wish you nothing but happiness and whatever your heart desires for this year.” 

“And to get laid!” Fanboy shouts over the music, making everyone laugh and Bob’s red in the face again. 

“To Bob, Happy birthday!” Maverick raised the glass once more, everyone copying the captain, a chorus of happy birthday Bob! following before everyone downs their shot. 

Fanboy makes it his job to get everyone as drunk as possible; handing out shots after shots. 

Bob was well on his way to be knocked out until tomorrow morning so you helped him sit on the stool and you too had a little stumble in your step but nowhere as bad as the birthday boy. 

“I’ll get you some water honey, stay here.” 

“Is the room spinning y/n? It feels like it’s spinning.” Bob’s hand is on your arm, holding you to stabilize himself.  

“Bob?” You pat his cheek, “Bob, look at me.” The man blinks a few times. “Yeah?” He grins goofily at you. 

“Try not to fall over,” you give his hand a squeeze before you navigate yourself through the crowd to the bar to get Bob some water. 

You find Fanboy getting another round of shots, you nudge him. “No more for Bob, he looks like he’s gonna pass out.” You tell him, you both glance back at the birthday boy, sharing a laugh before he nods. 

The glass of water was full to the brim, you stop in the middle of the crowd to take a small sip of it so it doesn't spill when you bump into someone; a wall of a  man from the feel of things. Half of the water spills onto the floor and you look at the person who was in front of you; Jake.

“Where have you been all night?” you look up at the man, there’s an amused look on his face. “Out.” he says plainly. 

You can't help but roll your eyes, pushing past him. “It’s Bob’s birthday and you didn’t think to show up ?” Jake is following behind you, his hand on your arm to stop you but you keep walking, making your way back to Bob. 

“Here, honey.” you hand him the glass, helping him take small sips from the glass. 

Jake watches how gentle you are with the pilot, wiping away the water that misses his mouth and pushing his hair from his face. His heart swells at the idea of it being him you were taking care of instead of Bob. Jake’s shifted to stand behind you now, leaning on the ledge of the wall and you're leaning on his legs with Bob leaning on you; it really was a sight to see. 

Bob was dozing in and out of sleep at this point, someone needed to take this poor boy home. 

It’s like Maverick read your mind, coming over and offering to take Bob off your hands like he was a baby. He and Payback are heading back to the dorms and they’d take him with them. You let them, making sure to tell them to have someone stay with him and put him to sleep on his side in case he needs to throw up. 

Jake took it as his chance to talk to you without you walking away. The pilot wraps an arm around your torso, pulling you between his legs now. 

“You look beautiful.” The blonde whispers to you, eyeing the yellow dress on your figure; fitting your body like it was sewn onto you.

“Rooster thought so too.” The words slipped past your lips before you could stop yourself. You look back at Jake, panic across your face and he can’t help but laugh. 

Jake hums, leaning forward so his lips are by your ear. “You think I'm jealous of Rooster ? I know he can’t make you feel the way I do.” 

He was right. Rooster and you were just friends but so were you and Jake and yet, Jake made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He gave you butterflies like you were 15 again. No matter how crowded the bar was, you were always looking at him. Your heart skips a beat when he flashes a smile or throws a wink your way, hoping that your hand touches his when you had him a beer. 

Jake had your heart and he knew it; he knew it from the moment he saw the smile on your face for the first time. 

“Do you know why I call you sunshine?” He whispers to you, arms wrapped around you as you two swayed to the beat of At Last by Etta James. 

“Because you ‘love a woman in yellow’?” you quote him from the other night, making him smile. 

“When I leave for a mission and when I return, I’m thinking of you. You're the first person I want to tell when something happens, the last person I think of before I go to sleep and the first person on my mind when I wake up. Y/n, you’re the centre of my world and you don't have a single clue,” he laughs, his grip on you loosening when you turn to face him. 

You look at the man, your hands cupping his face. Jake smiles at you, admiring your beauty; even under the dull lighting of the bar, he could see the happiness on your face. 

Jake pulls you a little closer, his lips barely brushing against yours. “You are sunshine; my sunshine.” 

“No one else?” you hum, a smile playing on your lips. 

Jake closes the gap between the two of you, “all mine.” 

-----

this one's for @halsteadssneakylink​ and @hurricanejjareau​ <3333

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #hangman fic #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun fic #top gun fanfiction

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @winterandwords to uh... talk about a WIP I guess? :D

I'll pass on this tag toooo... @starlit-hopes-and-dreams (as always <3) but I'm not sure who else, so if you feel like talking about a WIP, consider this an open tag.

Oh boy, which to pick. There are currently only 2 projects where the P in WIP actually stands for "progress" (for the others it stands for "procrastination".)

I think I'm gonna pick Till Death. It is the one I am currently obsessed with, and the only one I am writing, not editing.

Here's the blurb:

Finnian is a wandering healer down on his luck. When one of his patients dies, the village turns against him, beating him half to death and leaving him for thirst and scavengers to finish what they started.

Eilis lives deep in the forest, hiding from the world. When she finds him, impaled on a tree and barely alive, she can‘t leave him to his fate, even if it means upending the peaceful life she has built for herself.

As Finnian slowly recovers, days filled with quiet companionship make the prospect of him staying less daunting than either of them had expected. But he carries too many scars, and Eilis too many secrets, threatening to destroy their fragile relationship as the shadows of the past draw closer. When everything falls apart, will they save each other, or will the price be too high?

You see, in April I finished the last chapter of all my ongoing stories, which left me in a very weird mood. For 1,5 years I always had something to work on, and suddenly, there was nothing started. Sure, I had a few outlines, but nothing really called to me, with the added problem that for those, I have to figure out bullshit like politics. I needed something new. New chars I didn't know yet, a fresh story - and 🌟violence🌟 :)

I've been talking about wanting more gore with happy end, but sadly, existing OCs are so fragile, I can't even break all their bones without them dying 🙄 So it was time to fuck up another healer.

For a few weeks, I threw concepts against a wall like cooked spaghetti, grabbed whatever stuck, and then I just started. It's the first time in a year that I actually write a story without posting as I go. I can leave a little note "this sounds weird, fix later" or remember "shit, I forgot this injury" or change a name halfway in. I know. That's how a draft is supposed to work 😅

I'm at over 60k words, and it's looking good. There's a few 'first times' for me, a lot of things I love and a lot of things I am excited about. I have a rough outline of events still to happen that leaves me enough freedom to go wild. And wild I go; half of the scenes are gratuitous pain and suffering, and there will be more - but it's also a story of love and finding a place to belong. Which brings me to the next point:

I'm tired. Tired of feeling like I don't belong anywhere. Of having no genre and being "just whump" because it fits nowhere else. Of being "not enough whump" while still finding myself on every squick list.

So this one's written for a target audience of some very close friends - a target audience for which I don't have to write CWs at the top of each chapter, a target audience who doesn't grow bored at the first calm moment, a target audience who will call me a bitch while asking for more pain.

I love you, pocket friends 💜

Here's the start of the book (unedited, rip):

Finnian hated dealing with sick people.

Considering the fact that he earned his money with healing, that was rather unfortunate. If he didn’t want to starve to death, he had to grit his teeth and ignore the stench of sweat and blood while taking care of coughs and aches and fever.

Sometimes, he wished he had learned something else after it had become clear that this wasn’t the right profession for him. Then he wouldn’t be sitting here, explaining to a grown ass woman that when he had told her to keep the wound clean, that included keeping the bandages away from dirty water. And that yes, it fucking hurt, because now it was infected, and if she didn’t plan on losing a finger or two, she’d better keep her hand dry and clean this time. And that perhaps, just perhaps, that was a bit more important than cleaning the windows.

Unfortunately, he had not learned anything else, so he left the house half an hour later with barely enough coins in his pocket to make up for the supplies he had used. Most roots and herbs he could gather himself, but bandages and tinctures didn’t grow on trees.

#salad-tag #WIP Wednesday #wip: till death #not in the best place lately can you tell #it's too warm i am ~stressed~ #and between staff changes and uh general focus on this site #it's all just very discouraging

[kangtaebins]

#when i think about the fact that april is more than halfway over and yet i still barely remember making it past march 2020 #between the depressive episodes and the global pandemic time just keeps flying by and it's alarming #yk thr mouse and the 'lets cuddle' pillow really set this off

[ketamineharry]

You and Me- Harry Lewis

Requested: Yes ~ hii can i please get one where reader and harry both really like each other but they both haven’t dated in a really long time so they have no idea what to do lmaoo, just a funny and fluffy one of you don’t mind 

Authors Note: I am so sorry for how long this took to come out. At the time this was requested, I don’t think I had posted any fluff. It’s taken me quite a while to feel comfortable enough with writing something on this scale of said fluff. Nonetheless, I hope this is still enjoyable x 

The moment that you had matched with Harry on Tinder, something about it felt like it wasn’t just going to be a meaningless hookup. Perhaps it was how brutally honest he was in his profile, or the fact that he hadn’t necessarily used the most conventionally attractive photos. Something about his profile, just seemed to be more authentic than the others you had previously matched with.

He had been the one to strike up conversation, asking you how your day had been. Unlike the matches you had where this had merely been a conversation starter; something they could ask to simply open conversation to more explicit topics, Harry seemed to actually care. Asking follow up questions and building a conversation.

After a few days of exchanging messages via Tinder, Harry had asked whether you could exchange numbers. Things were going pretty well, so you had agreed. Which meant that you had the convenience of being able to text back easily, as sometimes Tinder notifications wouldn’t come through on time. It only provided you with more time that you were able to converse with him, bringing you inevitably closer.

Late one Saturday evening, you were sitting at home, watching reruns of F.R.I.E.N.D.S, when your phone started ringing. It was Harry FaceTiming you. Reluctantly, you answered the call. It wasn’t exactly ideal for the first time for you to see each other in motion, for you to be bare faced, in an old baggy jumper, wrapped in a blue fluffy blanket. Your hair thrown up in a messy bun. However, as you answered, Harry’s massive grin instantly put you at ease. His manor revealing that he was at the very least tipsy.

“You are so pretty.” He beamed.

A deep blush crept its way onto your cheeks. The compliment, although simple, was unexpected and genuine. He was lovely. You quietly thanked him.

“I just wanted to know what day it is Y/N. I know that you’d be willing to assist.” He slurred, as he leaned against a lamp post. His features being illuminated in the bright yellow light.

“It’s Saturday, the third of April.” You stated, a slight laugh escaped your lips.

“Thank you… I’m going to regret all of this in the morning.” He started with a low chuckle. “One thing I won’t regret though, do ya fancy going on a date tomorrow? I was thinking maybe bottomless brunch?” He asked as he tried to regain some sort of composure, in an attempt to try and convey that he was serious when he was asking you.

“Are you sure you want to? From the state that you’re in, it looks like you might be nursing the hangover from hell tomorrow.”

“If I wasn’t at least a little bit tipsy, Y/N… I wouldn’t have the courage to ask you out. You are way out of my league.” He stated, emphasising the way.

You thought about it for a moment. You had nothing to lose. He seemed like a fantastic guy. If he wasn’t, you wouldn’t have invested as much time as you already had into him. The date he had suggested was in a public place, and you were more than able to text one of your friends letting them know where you were. Just in case something did go wrong.

“Sure, Harry… I’m down.”

The same huge grin that you had been greeted with at the beginning of the call was now back. Accentuated by the light that he was standing under. He looked so handsome.

“Fantastic, I’ll text you the details. Goodnight, Y/N.” He mumbled, as he fumbled with his phone trying to disconnect the call.

As soon as the call ended, your phone vibrated, the details of the date including location and time. You set an alarm on your phone for a time to wake up, allowing yourself enough time to get ready and panic about getting ready.

--

You had just gotten out of the shower, the nervous knots in your stomach only increased as time passed. If Harry was anything like you thought he would be in person, you wanted to impress him. Even if it were only for this one date. After all, he had the thought to plan something like this out. Asking to meet you in the morning, instead of asking to meet up for a drink in the evening. Everything just mounted up. From what you could tell, he was taking this seriously. Which only increased your nerves, as it had been a few years since you had been on a serious date.

As quickly as you could, you dried yourself off. You had decided last night on the outfit you were going to wear. A light blue off the shoulder top, with some white jeans and beige sandals. You checked yourself over in the mirror, trying to smooth down the fabric, as much as you could. The last thing you wanted to do was look out of place, or, like you hadn’t made enough effort.

You moved onto your hair, straightening it to perfection. Before applying some light makeup. You quickly glanced at yourself in the mirror, deciding that this would do. It wasn’t perfect, but, you wouldn’t feel ashamed of being near him like this. He was beautiful without effort.

--

You clutched your bag in front of you, as you walked into the little cafe, searching the sea of people for Harry. Right at the back, next to the window, you could see a tall blonde figure. You held eye-contact for a moment, before realisation set in for the both of you. Smiles broke out on both of your faces, as Harry beckoned you over to the table.

You made your way over to the table, as you did, Harry got up from his seat and met you halfway. He interlaced his fingers with yours, as he led you back to the table. Although this was the first proper contact that you had with him, it all felt so natural. Like his hand was made to fit yours, just so. Once you were at the table, in the far reaches of the cafe it felt like you had more privacy. Like it was just you and Harry.

Before either of you sat down, he engulfed you into a tight hug. His musky scent, providing you with a net of safety from your usual anxiety about PDA.

“You look lovely.” He whispered into your hair, just loud enough for you to hear.

The meal seemed to go by so quickly, both of you getting lost in each other. Eye contact never seemed to break, as you just got lost in each other. Everything just naturally slotted into place. Nothing had to be forced, being on this date with him felt as natural as breathing.

Soon enough, however, you were both completely full. Bellies stuffed with bacon and danish pastries. Harry got up from his seat, once again and helped you out of yours. He held your hand as you walked out of the cafe. Typical British weather meant that it was already pouring with rain. The air, so much colder than when you had started the date. It provided you with an excuse to be able to huddle up to him, as you rested your head on his arm.

Your clumsiness combined with the wet paving of the British streets, did mean that you took a stumble however, your hand slipped out of Harry’s as you tried to protect your fall. Luckily, it wasn’t so bad. Harry’s nervous laugh, however, was so contagious that the stinging pain in your hands didn’t really bother you anymore. You just had to join in. Once you had both regained your composure, Harry offered his hand out to you and helped you up off of the floor.

As soon as you were stable on your feet, you were able to spot a taxi to take you home. You informed Harry of such, and he walked you over to it.

“Thank you for agreeing to this date. It’s been amazing, and I’d love to see you again.” He said.

“I’d love to.” You confirmed.

He wrapped you in a hug, once again the goodbye felt bitter-sweet. The date had gone so well. But, you just didn’t want it to end. Spending time with Harry was amazing. So much more amazing than you could have ever anticipated. Neither of you wanted to break away from this hug. This moment, as cheesy as it was, belonged to the both of you. Harry rested his forehead on yours, upping the intimacy. Yet, still being reserved as far as you were concerned.

“Kiss me.” You requested.

He placed a hand on your cheek, brushing your wet hair out of the way before softly pressing his lips against yours. The busy streets of London, didn’t seem to bother you, as your lips connected. You were just lost in him. The kiss, although not frenzied, drove just how much passion the both of you felt for each other to the forefront to the both of your minds.

The beeping of the taxi, who had been waiting for you to enter, was the only thing that knocked you out of the bubble that you had shared with Harry for the past couple of minutes.

“I’ll see you really soon.” Harry said, as you got into the back.

“Yeah.” You smiled, as you gave him a small wave.

#harry lewis #Harry Lewis imagine #Harry Lewis x reader #Harry Lewis oneshot #w2s #w2s imagine #w2s x reader #w2s oneshot #wroetoshaw #Wroetoshaw imagine #Wroetoshaw x reader #wroetoshaw oneshot #youtuber #YouTuber imagine #YouTuber x reader #YouTuber oneshot #sidemen #sidemen imagine #sidemen x reader #sidemen oneshot

[keepingupwithpotters]

“Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you still love me.”

This is slightly longer than usual and it doesn't even have a happy ending, oops? I presume you knew what you were doing when you sent me an angsty prompt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And a happy birthday to @mppmaraudergirl !!! Hope you'll enjoy this unrequited pining dumpster fire queen :) I only wish it was set in 6th year to complete the set 🔥🗑❤️‍🔥

The dim light from the embers was trying to illuminate the Heads’ Office as he feasted his eyes on her. He thought about rekindling the fire to see her more clearly. Would she believe him if he said he was cold in April?

Just the fact they needed more light to see —her face in his case and the parchment in front of her for Lily’s— was enough proof that they’d been here for hours now, paying the price for not doing this in the last two weeks.

He tried not to think about why they were unable to do so, the first weeks of April a black blur in his mind he’d rather not visit.

Lily’s silhouette was a good distraction from his unwanted thoughts, he turned his focus back to it. He was just about to suggest adding more logs to the fireplace, weather be damned, when he realized Lily had been talking to him for a while now.

“—tried putting her with Bones last month but he said he will land himself in the hospital wing on patrol days if we ever pair them again, so we need a new partner for her.”

“How about Selwyn?”

“No, she's a half-blood, we can’t risk it.

“Fenwick?”

Lily looked thoughtful for a moment. “Fenwick could work.”

Happy that he had thwarted the danger, he went back to his favorite pastime.

“You know, this would finish a lot faster if you were helping me instead of gawking at me from afar.”

“I’m sorry, am I disturbing you?”

“You’re disturbing my concentration, Potter. Either close your eyes or come here.”

Never one to reject an offer like this, he hurried beside her. She had another thing coming if she actually expected this to stop him from drinking her in though. He could see the shadows of her eyelashes now.

“I can help you with that performance anxiety, Evans. I heard imagining me naked should do the trick.” He swallowed the words not that you’d have any problem with it back, afraid even this was pushing the limits.

“Thank you for that mental image.”

They were still pretending nothing had happened then. Fine by him.

She did look a little flustered though, he just hoped it wasn’t in anger. He decided not to risk it anymore, taking advantage of his new proximity to the redheaded witch to follow the freckles on her cheeks. Even he couldn’t fuck this up if he never opened his mouth, could he?

Guess not.

“C’mon Potter, work with me here.”

He’d be worried if he couldn’t hear the smile in her voice. “I am. I came over here, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, to go over the patrol schedule with me,” the smile spread from her voice to her lips now, “not to continue your ogling beside my face now.”

He relented after that; still deathly afraid he could offend her unexpectedly. They went through the rest of the pairs slowly, easy laughter filling the air after a while. Lily was tapping the quill against her cheek, pondering about who to give Abbot as a partner, when he slipped up again.

It wasn’t his fault that the light hit her eyes just the right way when she was pursing her lips deep in thought. He was only human after all.

Still sprawled on her seat, it was proof of just how relaxed she was when she only laughed upon noticing, “Don’t look at me like that.”

A smart James, a James who wasn’t drunk on Lily’s laugh, would’ve never said what he said next.

“Like what?”

But he was far from that smart James now, the knowledge of what he probably looked like slipping through his foggy mind.

Her laughter hadn’t died fully yet when she said, “Like you still love me.”

Ah… Well, he brought that onto himself.

That was the hardest part about being friends with her probably. But it was okay, he had done worse things for Lily Evans than pretending he didn’t love her.

“You serenade your heart out to a girl one time…”

He didn’t bring up the other time the very same words were breathed tenderly in the dark. He wasn’t sure what was allowed yet, their newfound friendship still so fragile, so delicate.

When he realized he couldn’t have her in his life anymore unless he buried his feelings, that’s what he did, the opposite choice looking so unbearable that he hadn’t wasted a second thinking about it. So what if he sometimes felt like a tight fist was mangling his heart? He was listening to her laugh now, wasn’t he?

And he remembered what it was like, in that brief period, where he didn’t even have that in his life. Prefect meetings left abruptly, conversations ending quickly when he entered the room, gaze solely directed to people who could never appreciate them the way he would… He had been starved for her eyes, her voice, her touch. He thought he didn’t have her before, but there was never a time he didn’t have Lily Evans so completely than that damn week.

Which is why he fixed it, really, she left him no other choice. He promised her friendship, swore his feelings for her were gone, vowed to never try anything again. And as a reward, he got her back.

He kept all his promises so far, their past not-relationship (never a relationship) a taboo neither of them touched… until now. Once again Lily was steering the wheel and he was helpless but to follow her lead wherever she took him. Control had never been in his hands, and he was back to looking at her to figure out how he would be hurt next.

He wondered if this was a test when Lily looked satisfied with his answer. Was there a wrong answer to give here? Did he pass?

Lily stretched in her seat unaware of his musings, his wound still too fresh, he kept his eyes away from her this time. “I think we’re almost done here. Look it over one last time and we should be good to go.”

He took the parchment over from her distractedly, giving the schedule a lazy once-over when something caught his eye.

“You’ve put me with Remus.”

Her face stayed impassive but he could see she was fidgeting with her quill. “Uh, yes. Does that work for you?”

Suspicion arousing because of her skittish behavior, he turned his eyes to the schedule to locate her name.

There.

Lily Evans & Dirk Cresswell

“I thought you hated patrolling with Cresswell, isn’t that what you said before?”

She was unable to hide her apprehension now, her face flaming up rapidly before his eyes. “Not–not exactly.” She averted her eyes. “He asked to patrol with me at the last Slug meeting, said his current partner was causing some problems.”

He tried to relax his jaw, knowing it’d make everything worse for him if he proved her discomfort right.

“The schedule looks perfect, Evans. I think we can wrap it up for the night.”

Her relief choked up the room. “Yeah, let’s just close up the office and leave this bloody room at last.”

“Actually, you know what, why don’t you leave closing up to me?” He continued without paying attention to her halfhearted protests, “No, no, you earned it. Let me deal with the aftermath, it’s the least I can do.”

She gave him a relieved smile. “Thanks, Potter.” She was already halfway to the door when she said her goodnights.

He didn’t get up from his armchair right away, eyes stuck on the door she just left.

Pretending he didn’t love her may not be the worst thing he’d done for Lily Evans, but it was surely turning out to be the worst one for himself.

#jily #jily fic #jily canon #james potter #lily evans #james x lily #jily fanfiction #senem writes #i am not as the youngsters say letting the girls breathe

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

Hi Hi!!!! So I've been following your account for a little while now and I love every single comedy bomb you drop on what you write so I was wondering....

How would the boys react to their S/O who is usually reserved when at the lair, doing a full 180 when at April's? Like they could be April's roommate or something?....

Like crackhead energy, dishing out memes and vines and literally having a duel with Casey about leftovers in the fridge?... Yeah I know it's very specific 💀

I don't know.....the idea just popped into my head but I lack the creativity and comedy skills for that...so I was wondering if you could do something with this?.....

It's totally fine, if not 😁😁

This is... 100% me. I love this and I'm gonna pour my soul into it. Also I have started mentally referring to these as comedy bombs and I refuse to stop.

Also, I hope you don't mind that I wrote these in oneshot form instead of bullet points. It just made more sense for my brain.

TMNT Oneshots

The boys with a partner whose reserved at the lair but an absolute crack gremlin at home 🤣

Donatello

Donnie may have been a man of science, all logic and facts and numbers and things. But he absolutely believed that everyone had three separate faces, you were direct proof of that theory. While the purple terrapin had known you for nearly a year you’d only started dating a month ago and it shocked him that he was still uncovering new things about you. He loved it, sure, but it had a tendency to give him figurative whiplash.

He’d always known you to be calm and collected, maybe even a bit shy. He swore you’d explode if more than one person tried to talk to you at the same time. So it wasn’t an over exaggeration for him to say that your behavior at home nearly made him break his neck.

He was only there to help April fix a bug in her laptop and to confirm your next date, he was excited to see you since you’d had no contact in person for a week because of your schedules. Just lots of phone calls and exchanged text messages. You both missed each other like crazy and your roommate had neglected to inform you that your boyfriend was coming over.

Hers was already there and he was driving you up the wall, you’d never actually thought about committing a murder but Casey was pushing you very close to the edge of snapping. And he might as well have crane-kicked you off your cliff of patience and into the rushing river of “you little fucking shit I’m gonna piss on your grave” below. You hadn’t even heard Donnie come in through the window much less his conversation with April over her computer.

All you knew was that Casey had come parading into your room like a tyrant eating the leftovers in the fridge that you had specifically put your name on. That did it. Your eyes had skimmed over the top of your textbook to meet the asshole in front of you.

“Casey?”

He couldn’t speak through the mouthful he was trying to chew and grunted in pathetic response.

“Is that my cheeseburger?”

You’d never seen a living person imitate a pug’s facial structure so well, the man’s eyes bugged out of his head and he tossed the takeout box on your desk before turning and bolting out of your room. You followed about two steps behind with a bottle of shampoo in your hand. No, you weren’t entirely sure where you’d grabbed it from, all you knew was that it was your weapon. And it quickly became a very messy problem when it missed your target (Casey’s head) and slammed into the wall, exploding on impact.

You didn’t think you’d thrown it that hard.

“April April help help help helpppppppppppppp-'' The two on the couch had looked up during the chase throughout the apartment, Donnie was mostly curious at what Casey was screaming about. Not a lot usually made the guy make that noise. He was then distracted by April grabbing the laptop and passing it to him, she then clambered over his legs to sit behind him.

“YOU UGLY ASS CROISSANT! FUCKING PANINI HEAD- IT HAD MY NAME ON IT YOU DAFT AVACADO!”

Your boyfriend almost went vertical upon watching you tackle Casey to the floor and knee him in the groin. You shook the terrified man under you and slammed him a little harder into the rug.

“Touch my shit again and I’m gonna make the beaches of Normandy look like a goddamn family vacation.”

Then you climbed off of him and stood, brushing your disheveled t-shirt off with a huff. Donnie caught your attention and you raised your head to grin excitedly at him.

“Hi Dove! April didn’t tell me you were coming over,” you practically skipped over to the couch to peck him on the cheek, “I missed ya, are we still on for Saturday?”

He nodded in complete shock, his gaze flitting from you to Casey, who was still wheezing on the floor and clutching his dick.

“Uhhh yeah! Yeah, yep, Still good for Saturday. Uhm, completely unrelated question, where the hell did you learn to grapple like that?”

You shrugged absentmindedly, already walking to the hall closet to grab cleaning supplies for the puddle of shampoo in the walkway.

“Just kinda picked it up I guess? I’ve watched you guys train enough.”

Leonardo

See, Leo had always known that you were hiding something from him. Be it your true personality or some deep dark secret. He wasn’t really in a rush to find out, you’d tell him when you were ready. The leader enjoyed your quiet disposition anyways, you gave good advice and liked to meditate with him, what more could he ask for? What more could he want?

Well, maybe if you got along better with his family, although he supposed that wasn’t your fault, you always had been a bit shy. Even six months into your relationship with him, Leo only hoped that you’d warm up to his brothers eventually. You seemed to do alright with Splinter, that was a plus for the situation. It wasn’t that you were mean or impolite to the others, you were just… avoidant. Distant, quiet, whatever word you wanted to use. You just didn’t seem comfortable at the lair.

He was excited that April had asked to host a game night though, maybe you’d come out of your shell (haha, see what I did there?) and socialize, even for a little bit. They’d all shown up a few minutes early to make sure April didn’t need help with anything, she’d assured them that everything was handled and made sure to inform Leo that you would be back shortly with Casey from your snack run. Mikey had joked that you’d ditched the get together to avoid them but they all knew it ran the possibility of not being a joke.

You unlocked the door and held it open so Casey could get inside without tripping himself before entering yourself and kicking your shoes off. Leo looked up to meet your eyes and you sent him a wild grin, your entire face lit up with amusement.

“Hi babes! Are you ready to get your ass kicked at Monopoly?”

All the poor turtle could do was nod.

“Good. I did grab drinks by the way, April there should be a mixer in the cooler bag, Donnie there’s some of that lemon lime stuff that you said you wanted to try, Mikey, orange crush as usual, Raph I tried to go for Dr. Pepper but they were out so I figured that root beer was a safe second. And Leo they had a new boba flavor that you haven’t had yet so I grabbed one. If you don’t like it then you can have mine, I just have the peach royal.”

Beverages were tossed and they were lucky that their surprise didn’t throw off their catching skills. You and April shared a quick word in the kitchen as you took your coat off and ran a hand through your hair.

After some arguments team captains were decided and Donnie nearly had a heart attack when you picked him instead of Leo or either of your friends. He even went so far as to point at himself to make sure you weren’t joking. You declared that while you loved your boyfriend his morals were too strong to be competitive, Donnie’s were not, he said so himself.

They were all surprised that you’d remembered that conversation.

It wasn’t until halfway through the game that things started getting heated, you and Mikey were nearly jumping across the table at each other. And it visibly took all of your strength to not burst out laughing when he started yelling.

"YOU KNOW WHAT? THIS IS CHEATING! YOU'RE CHEATING! GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE!"

April and Casey were snorting into their arms as you got to your feet and walked towards the kitchen, making a poor attempt at climbing the appliance.

"THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!"

Raphael

Raph had always been under the impression that you were never really 100% yourself around him, he knew for a fact that you weren’t when you stayed over. He’d never seen someone so aggressively avoid someone, except himself of course. You were his partner of almost a year and it seemed like you were never going to let your true self shine. However you did seem to lighten up when you were alone with him, he supposed that was normal, but you may as well have been a pair of old earbuds that only work when you held them a certain way at the lair.

He honestly hadn’t expected that to change tonight, not given the text that Casey had sent him informing him of April’s recent breakup with whatever guy she’d been dating. So when he climbed in through the window and saw both you and Casey sitting on the floor in front of the bathroom he really didn’t think that the words out of your mouth would be-

“April you’ve got another twenty minutes of this then I’m ripping the door off the hinges!”

Casey shot you a look and you shrugged nonchalantly before getting to your feet and walking over to your confused boyfriend.

“Hey, sorry about this. Casey only texted you as a last resort if he needed someone to stop me from tearing the door off.”

Raph found that peculiar, “Uh, couldn’t he do it himself?”

The man in question looked up from his spot on the floor.

“Nah dude, they’re crazy. Last time I tried stopping them from doing something they nearly knocked my damn tooth out while screaming, and I quote, “If you put your hands on me I’m gonna fucking rip your face off” and quite frankly I don’t have the balls to test that.”

“No no dude, that’s valid. I wouldn’t either. Babe, why are you so-”

You raised an eyebrow at him over a glass of water, “Violent? I’m not Raph. These two just have little bitch feelings.”

He found it hard not to laugh at that and fifteen minutes later when you left his side to approach the door again it sent him reeling.

“This shit’s temporary April. You’ve got nice teeth and a fat ass, stuff your feelings down!”

Michelangelo

There would never be a time where Mikey wasn’t a prankster with you, it was just simply non-negotiable. You were cool with that and he was aware, he was also aware that no pranks were to be pulled at the lair. So he’d reign it in while you visited, just for a short while. But you’d never said anything about the apartment and Mikey was a creature of opportunity.

Unfortunately Leo talked him out of it and forced him not to pull anything while they visited. The leader was already on edge so when he walked in with the others following closely behind you were the first person to see him. Your eyes caught Mikey’s instantly and you might as well have been telepathic at that moment. But you took one look at Leo’s solid, angry face and seized your moment.

They weren’t at all ready for the scream.

“GET YOUR FUCKIN’ DOG BITCH!”

And they also weren’t ready for Mikey’s response of, “It don’t bite.”

And Leo was not ready for the pillow that got whipped at his face at incredibly high speed.

“YES IT DO-”

So when Leo finally realized that they were yelling at him his mood did not improve at all and in fact declined sharply into a pit of “oh fuck”. And that was how you ended up on Mikey’s shoulder getting dragged away from any sort of repercussion for your actions.

These got a little short near the end but I hope you like 'em and I hope I was able to capture what you had in mind! 😁

-Mars 🌠

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt headcanons #tmnt x reader #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #writing blog #writing requests #ask box #ask response

[dirt-cup-draco]

Cedric Diggory x Reader- Due Time

 Hello! Is it okay if I request something with Cedric with a Hufflepuff!Reader (or any house of your choice ) where cedric really likes the reader and leaves notes/love letters for her anonymously and reader is just really skeptical about it and weeks after that he wants to meet up and just fluff? Idk work your magic, do what's more necessary, I love you!

“That’s the third one in two weeks, isn’t it?” Hannah giggled, leaning over your shoulder as Susan peaked at the letter for just a moment before returning to her laid-back position in the arm chair she had claimed was hers on this rainy Sunday afternoon. 

“Mhmm,” You confirmed, eyebrows drawn to the center of your forehead as you wondered who could possibly be sending these over-the-top declarations of adoration. It wasn’t so much the contents that were over-the-top, but the fact that the letters hadn’t stopped coming since October and you were edging your way into April. The writing was unfamiliar to you even though you’d been sneaking glances at as many people’s essays and notes- anything that would give you a hint, really- as you could. 

The first letter had come to you on one of the worst days of your life. You felt at the time that it had been a friend anonymously sending you something just to cheer you up. The contents had been kind, generous even, but friendly and you hadn’t seen it is a love letter. 

Y/N, it had read, the sun has gone missing with the summer months but I don’t miss it much when I see you smile. Take care. 

It had been more of a note than a letter but it had still been folded neatly and left in an envelope. Somehow it had found it’s way into your bag and it was part of the reason you had assumed that either Hannah or Susan had left it. Even Hermione had been a thought. You were older than the Gryffindor but you two often studied together and she always seemed to know how to cheer you up when you entered the library looking more like a dark cloud than a person. 

However, you had inquired with every friend, hoping you could find them and thank them somehow, but everyone had denied it- even going as far as to show you their handwriting when you felt at a loss for finding your anonymous bit of belief. After that, the note had morphed into letters and the words read more like a love-sick poet than a friend offering support on your hardest days. 

“Why’ve you always got to frown Y/N?” Hannah pouted, bottom lip wobbling. “It’s just so lovely and you look like someone has sent you a ransom letter instead. They haven’t got anyone hostage, they just think you’re cute,” 

“No, they think she’s ‘brighter than a summer sun and more beautiful than spring’s first bloomed rose’” Susan giggled from her seat, shooting you a wink as the apple of your cheeks grew warm. 

“I’m not frowning,” You scowled at Hannah, disproving your point immediately, “I would just like to meet them. Their letters are very kind but it’s been months now and I’ve begun to wonder if they will actually ever speak to me,” 

Hannah couldn’t seem to argue with this so you folded up the most current letter and shoved it into your bag as the bell tolled and reminded you that you needed to run halfway across the castle to make it to your next class. With a goodbye thrown over your shoulder, you vanished out of the room. 

--

Cedric hadn’t been eavesdropping, he’d just been conveniently in the common room with you as you opened the letter that he had enchanted to float into your bag as you focused on McGonagall in transfiguration. He made the letter float laps around the classroom, out of the professors sharp and watchful eye, to make sure that no one could say where the letter originated from if Y/N inquired about it. 

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched your cheeks go rosy with Susan’s painfully accurate quote from his letter and he felt a bit embarrassed himself but he couldn’t regret it. He meant every word and you ought to be told as often as possible how truly radiant and wonderful you were. 

What made him pause, as you left the common room, was that you wanted to meet the author of these letters. You were right of course, he knew he could only send so many letters until you began to grow bored or even annoyed with the lengthy display of literary affection. Words of affirmation was how Cedric Diggory showed love and nothing could stop him from showing he cared for you. 

You knew each other, quite well actually, and so he wasn’t a complete coward he told himself. You two had conversations when the fancy struck and when he could get his tongue untied. Sometimes you’d find him half asleep in the common room and you’d shake him awake requesting he go to his bedroom for the night out of care but he would linger and ask about your day and the two of you would chat until far later than either of you had intended. 

Other times he would find you, head bent over a textbook as you sat beneath your favorite tree near the edge of the black lake. He teased one of these days the squid would come and grab your textbook from you but you’d just roll your eyes at him and pat the grass beside you, knowing he had a free period when you did. 

It was in the interactions he had grown to love every bit of you and he only wanted to learn more every time he got to be in your presence. 

Cedric swallowed the lump in his throat as he heard Hannah and Susan giggle, wondering who this mystery admirer could be. “He ought to hurry up and speak to her already, Y/N seems half ready to strangle whoever has been sending her those letters,” 

He knew that wasn’t true, Y/N wouldn’t hurt a fly. Yet, they were correct in that he needed to borrow a bit of gryffindor courage and come clean. A sudden thought struck fear deep into his stomach. What if someone else saw Y/N in the same golden light? Would they tell her that they had been the ones to write the words that came from his heart and his heart alone? That had decided it for him. He would tell Y/N that night. 

--

“Y/N?” you heard from your left, head buried in your arms as you rested on top of one of the tables in your common room. You hadn’t been asleep or studying, just thinking. Thinking of papers due, love letters, and the weather. Thinking of the rotation of the earth and how you weren’t really sure what made an animagus and what made a werewolf even though you were certain it was simple and you should have learned it long ago. Thinking of everything and nothing.

“Oh, yes, sorry Ced,” You mumbled, bleary eyes focusing on the boy who had taken a seat beside you. You let yourself take a moment to fall into the depth of his eyes. He had such caring eyes. Yes, the popular hufflepuff was quite the looker but he was far more than that and you had had the pleasure of speaking with him some during the school year. You considered him a friend and you hoped he did too, seeing as he had been the one to approach you. 

“Everything okay?” You asked, stifling a yawn and looking around you to see that your fellow housemates had left the common room while you had been lost in all of your thoughts and non-thoughts. 

“Yeah!” He replied a bit too cheery, voice pitching towards the end. Cedric winced and your eyebrows crinkled in that familiar way that made him want to smooth the lines away and ask what was worrying you. His stomach flipped comfortably and he let out an easier breath. 

“Yeah,” He tried again, more relaxed. “Just wanted to talk to you ‘bout something, actually,” 

“Oh?” You perked up, sleep falling from your eyes as you became more alert. Worry settled in your gut. Was Cedric certain everything was okay? You couldn’t bear thinking anything was wrong but you were honored that if something was wrong he wanted to come speak with you. 

“Yes, I have something for you,” The boy tried to keep his tone even but he couldn’t but feel some excitement swirl in his gut. He knew it was the right thing to tell you now and this seemed a good way to do it. Tugging a crisp envelope from his pocket he handed it to you and watched confusion paint over your worried expression. 

“Open it,” He encouraged. 

“But it looks like-” You caught yourself, staring down at the familiar envelope. Surely Cedric couldn’t be the one sending you such attentive letters? You didn’t interact as often as once a day even if you would like to. You told yourself you were being silly and hopeful, your friend just had something to show you and you were letting the letters get in the way of that. 

To cover up your hesitation you opened the envelope eagerly, unfolding the paper to find a familiar scrawl. Your heart flipped and your stomach flew. 

Hogsmeade this weekend? 

The option to check a box labelled yes sat beside another identical box labelled no and you stared with wide and startled eyes at Cedric. 

“You mean you were the one?” You croaked, eyes growing glossy. Putting a face to the letters made them mean exponentially more. Such kind eyes, such a kind heart. 

“Y-yeah,” Cedric breathed out, hand skating nervously against the back of his neck. “Just wanted to cheer you up one day when you looked down but then we started talking more and I just needed you to know how brilliant you are otherwise I’d explode but I was too nervous to tell you and well... I just kept writing and didn’t stop.” 

“Oh Ced,” You gasped, realization dawning on you. “You heard me in the common room earlier? I never meant to pressure you-” 

“No, no, Y/N,” He chuckled, his hand reaching for your arm before bashfulness overtook him and he pulled away. “It was time I said something, but....” 

He trailed off meaningfully, eyes downcast and you followed his gaze to the unchecked boxes. 

“Oh!” you giggled, that familiar red crawling up your neck to the tips of your ears. Grabbing your quill you checked a box, drying the ink with a spell before folding the parchment and putting it back inside the envelope. Standing, you handed Cedric the letter and brushed a daring kiss to his cheek before you ran upstairs leaving him absolutely giddy and more than confused. 

After shaking himself from his reverie, he tore at the envelope and noticed a neat X trapped within the confines of the box titled Yes. 

Cedric couldn’t fight the grin that spread from ear to ear and you were upstairs battling the same problem of a too-wide smile. It was long overdue he said something and you were more than happy he had. 

You both fell asleep as the sun started to lighten the world outside your drawn curtains. It would come back to bite the both of you once classes started but neither of you could get your upcoming Hogsmeade date out of mind. When you caught his eye during breakfast you knew that your sleepless night had been well worth it. 

#credric x reader #cedric diggory x reader #fluff #request #all of you anons are lovely and I appreciate your patience #and my non-anons #you are all brilliant #Cedric x hufflepuff!reader

[passable-talent]

ya boi is back with a new niche character played by hayden christensen for yall to enjoy.

CW: blood, wounds, cursing, piercings, tattoos, guns, fighting, deaths of unnamed characters

AJ x gn!reader - Takers (2010). the stupid hat grew on me.

dedicated as always to @haydens-moles and @iscariot-rising for being my friends and for appreciating hayden as much as I do

The story of your life, as you loved to explain it, boiled down to a little math joke. Excited five, you called it, or it’s official terminology- five factorial. Written as “5!”, hence the awful pun.

“Factorials,” you’d say, “for those that don’t remember, are a multiplication of every number up to the one that’s being discussed. As such, five factorial is five, times four, times three, times two, times one.”

Your life, your excited five, was as follows: five major scars, four tattoos, three piercings, two eyebrow slits.

“The one is usually ignored,” you’d say, “as it makes no multiplicative difference. That’s why I don’t have a ‘one’.”

In August, 2009, you got your ‘one’. Its a doozy. But we’re not there yet.

~~~

Five major scars.

December 25, 1983. It’s your first Christmas. Your parents think you’re just being a cranky infant, but something way more serious is going on- they find out the next day that you’ve got RSV, a respiratory virus that’s especially dangerous for infants. You spend the next three years periodically using a ventilator whenever the coughing acts up. You don’t remember much of it, other than the vaguely crayon-looking piece of the machine, but you can’t forget that it happened, due to the pretty white scar over the bridge of your nose. It’s not such a gnarly wound as it is a reminder- not of the ventilator that wore through your skin thanks to frequent use, but of the virus that almost took your life only a few months after it had begun.

July 28, 1993. You’re seven years old, staying at your grandmother’s house with your cousin, who’s six months older than you. You’re playing cops and robbers- he’s the cop. The forest streaks by as you run the length of the property, slightly faster than him, but he catches you and throws you down. You land on your back on a jagged rock, not only painfully impacting your spine but digging deeply into your muscles beside it. It was the first hospital visit you remember, and the dark, long scar halfway between your tailbone and your shoulders reminds you never to fall without controlling it.

January 15, 1998. You’re in sophomore year of high school, and not the most popular. You like to play by the rules, and some asshole junior decides that he doesn’t like the way you won’t let him cheat off of your trigonometry homework, and decides that a knife is the best way to settle the problem. Those homework answers weren’t worth the long white line over all four of the knuckles of your left hand, but it is a pretty little reminder that lowlifes do what they want. And law enforcement, or whatever your school called the ‘anti-bullying league’, does jack shit about it.

October 30, 2002. You’re almost done with your certification to become a cop- thank god. You couldn’t stand the people who were to become your graduate class. They were so ready to become cops just to bully people, just to get to weild an iron fist and hide their bloodlust behind the law. Not you- you’re here to do some real good. That’s what they don’t like about you. And that’s why Fred Young splits open your cheek when just he’s supposed to be practicing his sparring. It’s an ugly scar, needed six stitches, but it’s a reminder that even the cops aren’t always the good guys.

May 14, 2004. You’re a new cop, working under detective Wells. There’s a robbery of a jewelry store a few blocks from where you’re patrolling, and as you’re making your way to the scene, a man in a fedora runs smack into you, taking you both to the ground. Broken glass digs into your shoulder, but he apologizes, and his blue eyes look so genuine. He’s afraid. You’d not realize until a month later that he wasn’t a scared bystander, but in fact one of the thieves. The fifth of your scars matches your first meeting with AJ- who would, by the end of the summer, become one of the most important people in your life.

~~~

Four tattoos.

August 4, 1999- Left wrist, inside knob of the bone. The little symbol had represented something to you when you were sixteen, but it had long lost whatever meaning you’d given it. Now, it was just a pattern to pass your thumb over whenever you got restless.

February 16, 2002- The cap of the right shoulder. It was your bunk number, from when you were training to be a cop. Nothing extravagant, but it was supposed to represent the beginning of the rest of your life- it was supposed to represent your calling.

June 1, 2004- Left arm, the outside of the forearm. Bleeding from your first tattoo was a new one, the largest one on your body. It was geometrical and high contrast, black lines loosely following your veins up toward your elbow, as though that left hand was bringing darkness into your body. It did- you shot with your left hand.

July 17, 2004- Right collarbone. A single, circular monogram, made up of six letters.

T A K E R S.

~~~

Three piercings.

April 7, 1989. Your father took you to get your ears pierced, but insisted upon arrival that it was too expensive to get both done, so you only got your left. The assymetrical style would have to grow on you- at six years old, you hated it.

May 19, 2003. You couldn’t have piercings at the academy, they were unprofessional, they were dangerous. So the night of graduation, you went out and got a hole punched into your nostril- the pain made tears well up, but more than anything, it was the satisfaction of giving a pretty little ‘fuck you’ to your superiors, who you’d never see again.

July 18, 2006. AJ takes you to a fancy beauty salon for an eyebrow bar after hearing maybe once that you’d wanted another piercing. You knew you were in love with him- who else in your life had ever paid such close attention to you?

~~~

Two eyebrow slits.

June 23, 2004. You leave the police force. You tell Wells that it’s because you’re pissed you can’t find the guys that robbed the jewelry store, but that’s not even close to the truth. You’ve found them- hell, you got a good look at one of them on the very day of the robbery. But you’ve done the looking, and didn’t have the heart to bring them in. They had families. They donated ten percent of every heist to a charity. They did more for the community than the police you worked for, and they did it clean- they didn’t hurt anybody, if they didn’t have to. They did what you’d hoped to do, when you joined the force. What you’d never gotten to do. Eyebrow slits were considered extremely unprofessional, so the moment you were free of your two week notice, you split open your right eyebrow. It would give a good balance to the bar piercing you hoped to put through your left someday.

March 4, 2007. You’re cleaning up your slit when AJ walks into the room and stands behind you so that you can see him through the mirror. You keep your eyes on the trimmer you’re so delicately running over your skin, but when he opens up a little felt box with a pretty ring inside, you whirl around with such panic that you make the slit approximately half an inch wider than it should’ve been. Lilli helped you fill in the gap for the engagement photos, but you decided to keep a second slit on the other end of the unfortunate shave- a little reminder of the evening in which he proposed to you.

~~~

“The one is usually ignored,” you’d say, “as it makes no multiplicative difference. That’s why I don’t have a ‘one’.”

On August 27, 2009, you got your ‘one’.

You’d been out of the game for two years, choosing not to take a cut of the winnings. You’d advise, you’d plan, you’d set up, but you did not want to be on site when the heist went down. The boys had it taken care of, and you butted heads with Jesse far too often for anyone’s comfort.

You especially couldn’t work on this project, thanks to a little fucker named Ghost- he didn’t trust you, as a member of the Takers he’d never met, and you didn’t trust him, as a criminal you’d never grown to respect.

You knew that most of them didn’t trust Ghost either, but everything he brought forward checked out- AJ must’ve mumbled the plan thirty times in his sleep in the five days from its suggestion to its fruition. There were no holes. Knowing Gordon and John, they had some ‘insurance’ for Ghost, anyway. In case it went wrong.

Still, you stayed at the Hotel Roosevelt through it all. You were their sitter, keeping the hotel room warm and ready for their arrival. They arrived back one by one- and like usual, AJ got there first. He, Gordon, and John were usually the first to get out, but he always made it back to the room first, because that way he could get some time with you. That way, he could have a private reunion, fresh off of a job.

“Hey, baby,” he said as he closed the door, and you waited for him to turn his eyes to you before you gave him a smile. He threw down his bag onto one of the chairs, and it landed with a heavy thump, but you’d long grown used to the sound of the score. However much he pulled, good for him. You were just happy to slip your arms around his neck and feel him kiss the scar on your cheekbone before sliding his lips to yours.

He always kissed different right after a job- before the boys had all gotten back, before the total was counted. He had a confidence to his movement, but there was fear, insecurity, just a tinge. He wasn’t just a taker, he was a man, who had worries and risks just like every other man.

You were out of the game for a few reasons. They had it taken care of. You butted heads with Jesse. You didn’t trust Ghost. But you knew that you were AJ’s biggest fear- you knew that if you got hurt on a job, he’d never forgive himself.

So he kissed you, he held you close, he reminded himself that you were here, you were fine. His long fingers seems to take up half your back, and his hair was already in his face, as though you’d tugged it there yourself.

With just one more pass of your lips over his, you pulled away.

“How’d it go?” You asked with a soft voice, rolling your first finger through the curls at the back of his neck.

“Could’ve gone better,” he said with a chuckle, “but we got it done.” You heard a knock at the door, and Gordon was the next arrival- then John, then Jake, then Ghost. Jesse came last, and with him, a whole host of new problems.

A bullet splintered the door and caught AJ somewhere under the ribcage. Everyone hit the floor, diving behind couches, and you popped your head up long enough to see AJ launch over the kitchen island. The room shattered into gunfire and feathers from expensive pillows, glass shards littering the ground like raindrops. It all moved so fast, and the air exploded into noise. You could barely track AJ through it all, he was so far away, all the way across the room. And you wanted to keep your eye straight down the barrel of your gun.

“AJ!” Jesse called from beside you, hidden behind a brown leather couch, “You okay?” You looked around the side of it, and saw him ten feet from you, the longest ten feet of your life, behind the kitchen island. He was struggling, on his hands and knees.

“Get up,” you snarled, knowing he’d already taken a hit.

“Out the back!” John ordered from the doorway behind you, and you started to realize the moment, the dangerous, heavy moment. AJ was all the way across the room- he couldn’t cross it. Not with these mobsters holding ground.

“Let’s go!” Gordon shouted, and your eyes connected with AJ’s. He saw the same thing you did.

“Go,” he said, voice calm, and it cut through the chaos of the room, cut through every hardened lesson ever pounded into you, cut through every wall you’d ever built around you, around your heart. “I’m coming.”

AJ was a good liar. But he couldn’t lie to you.

“No,” you growled through gritted teeth, and you made a rash decision.

You’d always been good at gymnastics. You had strong control over the movement of your body, and had, ever since you’d learned from your cousin throwing you down onto that stone that split open your back. You could move and slink and roll and dive in ways that would keep you not only from falling, but even from being noticed.

Using the chaos as your cover, you did a tight diving roll across the room to him, slipping between shelters unscathed. This brought you just a bit closer to the mobsters, but further from the back door exit that Gordon had been trying to guide you toward. You’d chose AJ over your safety any day- the surprise and the fear in his eyes said that he wished you wouldn’t.

Making sure you had enough ammo, you considered your final move- this didn’t end until these mobsters did. There were five of them left, after all this commotion: four in the room, one in the hall. You couldn’t take all five, not with their guns being so much more than yours, but you could take out a few. You could shift attention, you could buy time.

And hopefully, you could stay breathing, too. That’d be nice.

“Stay down,” you hissed, leaving AJ behind the island where he’d be forgotten about, or assumed dead. Then, you rounded the corner and rolled to the feet of the closest mobster. As you came out of the roll you caught his legs in yours, wrenching them from under him and taking him to the ground with one of the first moves you’d learned in basic training. He hit the wall hard, and was unconscious by the time he landed- the same could not be said for his friends.

From your right, you could see Gordon, still firing, still hopeful for your and AJ’s escape. Your shoulders were above the couch, so you knew he saw as you turned your weapon to the second mobster before he could turn to you, and stopped his heart.

Your commotion had caught the attention of the other three who still remained. You whirled around and raised your gun to one of them, but they managed it first.

Gordon had to swallow back his horror as he saw a bullet enter the front of your side profile, and blood explode from the back. He took out the mobster who still had his attention on you- but your shoulders smacked to the ground outside of his view, and he closed the door.

Luckily, their aim was spotty. You now had a useless left arm, but you were still breathing. Not that you’d let the one remaining mobster notice that.

You and AJ played dead, only a few feet from each other, but the kitchen island becoming a thicker wall than any you’d ever been split by. As you stared blankly at the ceiling, taking shallow breaths hidden by the folds of your shirt, you hoped he didn’t think you were dead. You hoped he wasn’t bleeding out.

After what felt like agonizingly long minutes, the shooting finally stopped, and the door opened again. Gordon was the first to enter the room, and rounded the couch to you, grief in his eyes, expecting the worst.

But you could give him a smile.

“Surprise,” you groaned, and he lit up in relief, helping you sit up with your good arm.

“Look at you, playing dirty,” he said with a laugh, “I thought you were gone for sure.”

“AJ,” you heard Jake say from across the room, and finally AJ could sit up from where you’d forced him down. The two of you had both bled straight through your shirts, but there wasn’t any time for sweet reunions- everyone had to get out, and fast.

AJ left his car wherever it was. John gave the two of you a ride to the airstrip where Gordon was going to disappear for a while, and on the way you and AJ attempted to give each other first aid until the personnel on the plane could take care of it.

Eventually, you leaned against his left, and he against your right, your wounds still stinging and sticky with blood, but manageable, for as long as they needed to be.

The night didn’t get any easier, but that didn’t matter- you were home free, they’d managed the job, and Ghost was out of the picture, and neither of you were going to die.

And someday, when you felt brave enough to recount your near-death, near-loss, near-jailed experience, you’d say:

Five major scars, four tattoos, three piercings, two eyebrow slits. And one gun shot wound.

-🦌 Roe

#reader insert #angst #aj #aj takers #takers #takers 2010 #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #x reader #gn!reader #aj x reader #fics

[nebula-jazz]

Where Dreams Lie

Leonardo x reader

The dripping of water. The flipping of pages. The smell of incense and the feeling of steam of hot tea against your cheeks. A soft, calming and steady beat of a strong heart pressed strongly against your ear.

BEEP!! BEEP!! BEEP!!

You search around in the dark to find your clock in hopes of a few extra minutes of the loving and peaceful sensations. But it was too late by the time you shut off the blasted thing. The dream had escaped from your mind and slipped quietly between your fingertips.

Groaning in defeat you walked through the quiet house. The sound of your younger sibling snoring sent a chill of irritation up your spine that they could still escape reality as you had to get ready for another day in literal hell. Your morning routine was your only peaceful part of your day besides sleeping.

You threw on your clothes going with a blue theme today along with a large hoodie that appeared out of no where. You kicked your skate board into your hand as you threw your backpack over your shoulder. You grabbed a apple on the way out.

The ride to school was quiet. Though halfway through you had to pull your headphones out and stop. 

You often took the backroads to school and so you always had to keep your guard up. but every once in awhile the light of the lamps and the moon would get blocked and you have to look up.

This had been happening to you for the last few months since you woke up in the hospital. It sent odd chills up your spine and a ball of relief  would settle in your abdomen. You found this odd as, from what you could remember, you were always afraid of the streets since you were younger. Even if a lamp post flickered it would freak you out so bad it would send you running.

People at school and even your normally absent family have noticed these slight changes in your behavior. They had told you that you you go out every weekend and wouldn’t return until Monday evening. You had went missing for two weeks the showed up at the hospital with little to no memory with what had happen or why you would leave now that you were much more lose lipped than you were. They wanted to find the reason for your extensive injuries and the fact that you needed life support.

You stopped in a dark ally when the light of the moon was blocked. You looked up confused and squinted. You felt a small amount of hope well up in your chest. You rubbed your now aching chest when you didn’t find nor see anything above you other than light pollution from the city lights and a few sparse clouds.

~~~~~

Your school day consisted of bullies and rude teachers thinking that your extended absents was due to your laziness and not the fact that you were laying in a hospital bed on advanced life support. You tried to point out that the story was both in the news paper in April O’Neil’s section and on the news. You were sent to the principal’s office for ‘lying’. The principal only sighed and apologized for the teachers rudeness as she wrote them up again, keeping you until your next period.

Home was not much better as your Mother and her boyfriend barraged you with more questions about everything including what had happened in the two weeks you were gone.

Irritated and tired you walked right out of the house and in a random direction. Your feet took you to one of the many entrances of the sewers. You wanted to open it but you were to tired to put in the strength to do so. so you walked into the entrance just enough to be out of sight and sat on the concrete. slipping in your headphones and watched the sun set.

at one point you must a fallen asleep because the dream from the night before came back to you with more detail.

You were curled in someone’s lap as you read your favorite well worn book that when missing after you came home from the hospital. A cup of tea pressed against your chest and the steam gently caressed your face as you read quietly. you lent against a hard chest that felt more like armor but you knew in your subconscious was a chest. You heard the strong and steady beat of a heart as smoke from the many incense danced above your head. you knew you were somewhere in the sewers as you heard the echo of a steady drop of a water drop hitting a puddle.

eventually you saw yourself put down the mug and bookmark the page you were on, placing that too on the mat. You heard a sigh from above you as you reached out of your sight for a hand.

One came into view and the sight shocked you but in the dream you smiled and played with the three green fingers.

“Baby I need to focus.” was the soft complaint but you could tell that there was no heart into it. The simple nickname made your heart flutter.

“We have been in here for two hours Leo. Maybe I need to leave so that you can focus?” you huffed. The hand lifted from your grasp and gently turned your chin upwards. Your eyes were met with a humanoid turtle. You wanted to be horrified but you felt your heart melt as your eyes attached to those deep ocean blue eyes.

“I want you here. No. I need you here. I get nervous when you are out of sight.” ‘Leo’ said softly. You felt his breath fan your face and you were hit with the smell of earl grey tea with honey invade you senses. You turned into putty in his hands as he pulled you in for a hug. He placed his chin on the top of your head and gently started humming.

Your eyes fluttered open to the dark of your room still hearing that soothing voice in your ears.

Tears filled your eyes as you hugged yourself in the dark of your room. Craving that warmth and sweetness. Craving the gentle hands that held you so lovingly and the soothing voice. To you that had been nothing but a dream that had carved your heart out and placed it in someone else’s hands.

But to the turtle with the blue eyes that sat on the roof top watching you it was all real. And you weren’t the only one hurting as his eyes traced the scars down your arms and the hoodie that you huddled yourself in for comfort. His favorite hoodie that he couldn’t bring himself to take back. the scar underneath your eye from his own sword. From him, the person that swore to protect you. He heard your sobs and thought you were remembering how he hurt you as he lost control. He clutched the book that he kept saying to Donnie that he was going to return. He saw the scars and misinterpreted it all and yet he couldn’t move. he had to protect you even though he was the one that was hurting you. He had to. He had to, he thought as he tried to tone out your cries. the cries for someone to hold you. the cries for love that you so desperately craved and already had but was taken from you.

And you both cried into the silent city where the dreams are told to lie. one silent and mournful, the other loud and needing.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt leonardo x reader #x reader #tmnt #leonardo #angst #bayverse leo #leo x reader

[captain-ross-poldark]

Poldark’s Aidan Turner on playing Leonardo da Vinci

Ed Potton

Friday 2 April 2021

Aidan Turner takes on the role of Renaissance polymath LeonardoJUSTIN SUTCLIFFE/EYEVIN

I’m trying to work out where Aidan Turner is Zooming from. Is it London, where he moved to in 2017 after his Ross Poldark became the drooled-over king of Sunday-night television? Dublin, where he grew up, trained as an actor and returned to spend the first lockdown with his parents? Or Rome, where he shot his new series, Leonardo, in which he plays a young Leonardo da Vinci?

“None of the above!” Turner says. “I’m in Toronto.” The enigmatic charm, feline eyes and gleaming locks that he deployed so mercilessly in Poldark, The Hobbit films and Being Human are all there. “My missus is working here,” he explains, and so is he. That’s the American actress Caitlin FitzGerald, his partner of three years, whom he met when they starred in the 2018 film The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot. At first I assume the “missus” is laddish affectation but it turns out that it’s official: Turner and FitzGerald, both 37, got married in secret in Italy in August after filming finished on Leonardo. You can almost hear the sighs of disappointment ripple around the world.

Turner won’t say any more — he is famously guarded about his personal life — but he looks insanely happy in the couple’s rented apartment. FitzGerald — whose grandfather Desmond was a CIA agent and organised several plots to assassinate Fidel Castro — is shooting a series, Station Eleven, in Toronto while her husband works on another project that he’s not allowed to talk about. In their downtime they’ve been watching I’ll Be Gone in the Dark, an HBO documentary series about the Golden State Killer, and, on a lighter note, Ottolenghi and the Cakes of Versailles. They share the apartment with Charlie, an ebullient Norfolk terrier that Turner has to eject from the room halfway through our interview when he starts yapping. “I’m surprised he behaved for so long,” he says.

Eight-part series Leonardo has been criticised for warping historyPA

Like many of his fellow thesps, Turner has been doing a great deal of lockdown painting. “We have a roof garden here and the light has been really good,” he says. “I probably shouldn’t be saying this because I don’t know if the landlord knows. It’s not messy work anyway!” Unlike some of his peers — I’m looking at you, Pierce Brosnan — he has yet to unleash his daubings on the world. How would he describe his style? “I struggle to say abstract, but I haven’t quite figured out what it is yet.” Did it help with playing Leonardo? “I don’t know. If you saw my paintings, you’d assume very much not,” Turner says. He has a studied line in self-effacement, honed after years of “sexiest man on TV” questions.

Leonardo premiered in Italy last month and was watched by seven million, many of them doubtless keen to see Turner brooding in a succession of smocks. The eight-part series has been criticised for warping history, having the artist accused of murder and featuring an apparently fictional muse, Caterina da Cremona, played by Matilda De Angelis from The Undoing. Luca Bernabei, the chief executive of Lux Vide who produced the series, defended it stoutly. “Matilda De Angelis’s character did exist. She was a model Leonardo asked to paint,” he said. “We have been really careful in our research. But this is not a documentary, we are not historians and this is not a university history lecture.”

And if the history pedants are spluttering, the art pedants should be happier — the series goes to considerable lengths to make the painting look authentic. Each episode is themed around a different masterpiece, from the portrait of Ginevra de’ Benci to The Last Supper to the Mona Lisa, and the candlelit cinematography is often sumptuous. Turner’s research included a private view of a Leonardo exhibition. “I spent some time alone with the actual paintings, which was brilliant,” he says. “They’re just like high-definition photographs. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that a human had done this.”

Aidan Turner attended an artist’s boot camp before filming startedVITTORIA FENATI MORACE

The series opens in Florence in the 1460s, with Leonardo a pupil of Verrocchio, played by the veteran Italian actor Giancarlo Giannini. Before the shoot Turner and his co-stars went on an artists’ boot camp (brush camp?) supervised by professionals. He says the hardest part was learning to paint, as Leonardo did, with his left hand. He compares it to learning to ride a horse for Poldark, which he pretended he knew how to do before going on a crash course when he got the part.

Brushwork was the same, he says. “I realised I had to get good quite quickly and look like I knew what I was doing with my left hand, which is more difficult than you would think. It’s keeping it steady — you find it just moves around a lot. Leonardo was very slow and precise — I think I got it down. After a few weeks you start picking up the brush with your left hand, it becomes natural.”

Leonardo was a vegetarian, Turner tells me, “and apparently later in life opened some sort of vegetarian restaurant”. He was also gay, something that, despite reports, the series does not shy away from. Was this Turner’s first time kissing a man on screen? He laughs. “Of all the things I was expecting you to ask next, that wasn’t one of them! In a lot of ways it was just another love scene. The fact that the gender was different — that was never a thing. No, it felt right. It didn’t feel any different at all. But yeah, to answer your question, that was the first time, which I’d never really thought of until now.”

What did feel weird, he says, were the Covid protocols. “Suddenly people are wearing masks and shields and hazmat suits. We had a big sanitisation machine as we walked in that would spray us. You take off the mask when you shoot the scene and it’s a bit strange for a second. Then you realise it’s the first time you’ve seen your co-star’s face that day. It’s not conducive to a very creative environment, for sure. But we made it work and nobody got sick.”

With his wife, the American actress Caitlin FitzGeraldREX FEATURES

Turner spends a chunk of the first episode painting De Angelis, and both actors know what it’s like to be ogled. She has been asked endlessly about her naked locker-room sequence in The Undoing, just as he has been reminded of his shirtless scything scene in Poldark. Before that there was his lusted-after vampire in Being Human and his sexy dwarf in The Hobbit — branded a “dwilf” in some quarters — although that “definitely wasn’t the intention”, he says. “I think I just had less prosthetics on my face. My make-up call was 20 minutes and everyone else was sitting in the chair in the morning for three and a half hours. It wasn’t good to be around the other dwarfs in the mornings, that’s for sure.

“I get why people are interested,” he says of the ogling. “It’s just when it keeps coming up.”

We move on. According to a recent survey Cornwall has overtaken London as the most desirable place to live in Britain. Does he think Poldark played a part in that? He laughs. “Maybe we nudged a few people in the right direction. I think people forgot how beautiful that side of the world is. One of the first reviews of Poldark we read was like: ‘We can’t believe that this is our country, it looks like the south of France.’”

Could Poldark return, and would Turner be in it? If they stuck to the chronology of Winston Graham’s books they would have to leap ahead a few years. Maybe he could play an aged-up Ross Poldark in latex and fake paunch? “I don’t know if I’d be keen on the ageing-up thing,” he says. “It never really works. I don’t know whether they need to be too strict with that gap anyway. There’s the possibility someday, maybe. I enjoyed working with everybody on Poldark, from the writers right down to all the cast and crew. It really is like a family. So I’d be open to chat about it. But not for a while.”

Turner with Eleanor Tomlinson in PoldarkMIKE HOGAN

Before that he will appear as the apostle Andrew in The Last Planet, the forthcoming biblical epic from Terrence Malick, revered creator ofThe Thin Red Line and The Tree of Life. Well, he doesn’t know for sure if he will appear. Actors of the calibre of Rachel Weisz, Mickey Rourke and Jessica Chastain have seen their performances in Malick films vanish during editing.

“You want what’s best for the film. And if you don’t fit into it, you don’t fit into it,” Turner says in the tone of hair-shirt devotion that actors tend to use when talking about Malick. With a cast including Ben Kingsley and Mark Rylance as Satan, the movie is meant to tell the story of Jesus through a series of parables. Turner doesn’t really have a clue, though.

“You don’t necessarily know what you’re signing up to. You’re signing up to Terrence Malick,” he says. The director has “a great way of working. Everything is around ‘where is the sun’ at this particular time. That’s our natural light and it’s all we use. So things happen fast. There’s no trailers, hair, make-up, we’re just all together. You don’t know from day to day what you’ll be doing. It’s quite renegade stuff. That’s the way I always wanted to work.”

It’s closer to the immediacy of the theatre, which is where Turner started out. The son of an electrician, Pearse, and an accountant, Eileen, he represented Ireland at ballroom dancing before falling into acting. After studying at the Gaiety School of Acting in Dublin he acted in plays for five years and in 2018 he returned to the stage to rave reviews in Martin McDonagh’s The Lieutenant of Inishmore in the West End. Rave being the operative word — his performance was bracingly unhinged. “I can’t wait to get back to the theatre,” he says. “That’s what we’re looking at probably next.”

Turner’s character in The Lieutenant of Inishmore was an Irish freedom fighter, but he is reluctant to talk about the prospect of Irish reunification (“So I don’t get shot when I get home,” he told one interviewer). Culture is safer ground, and his native country is going through a purple patch with Sally Rooney in literature, Fontaines DC in music and the likes of McDonagh, Jessie Buckley and Denise Gough in drama. “It tends to happen in waves,” Turner says. “Coming out of drama school, Colin Farrell was such a big thing. When these actors really make it you can feel some of their light begin to shine on the industry back home.”

Like Farrell, Turner is an international star, although it has mainly been in period roles: Poldark, Leonardo, Andrew and his breakout turn as the 19th-century poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti in the 2009 series Desperate Romantics. It must be something about the hair.

That could be about to change, though. Toronto often stands in for New York, which suggests that his current mystery project has a contemporary setting. Does he yearn to act in jeans? “Yeah, you’re right,” he says with a laugh. “After Leonardo, I think tights and knee-length boots are out for a while.” Many would beg him to reconsider.

All episodes of Leonardo will be on Amazon from April 16

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/poldarks-aidan-turner-on-playing-leonardo-da-vinci-wnmqhxqxr

#Sunday times #aidan turner #Leonardo

[remmushound]

Bay/rise 49!! @errorfreak88 @brightlotusmoon @digitl-art-monstr @selfindulgenz @dakotafinely @sententiously-sarcastic @sprinklestheditty

Everything was certainly looking up. Just as Leonardo had promised, the moment they all got back and settled, he took their food orders and within seconds they were all dining on enough food to indulge a small army. Requests from the bay brothers for appetizers and desserts and drinks kept flowing in at a steady, constant pace and never once did Leonardo complain as he pulled each requested item through his portal and presented them to those who had requested. Two hours in and, though Leonardo’s family, as well as O’Neil and Casey, had long since quit their main dining, the Splintersons were still stacking up dishes. The excuse for a table was filled with stacks of dirtied dishes, and so was the floor around the table, and the trashcan had produced three bags of garbage. Yet still they ate.

Splinter, though the thinness of his form might not have shown it, was eating just as much as his massive sons. His leg was in a fresh cast courtesy of Hueso, who had graciously declined the human food in the same way Draxum had. Cassandra, though, had dedicated herself to a pie-eating contest against Raph and was holding up her own surprisingly well.

“Damn!” Raph whistled, “Where you puttin’ all that pie?”

Cassandra finished the rest of her slice and wiped her mouth. “It goes straight to my ass.”

Raph laughed and leaned across the table to give her a fist bump. “Yeah, I’d tap that.”

“And I’d tap yours.” Cassandra countered with a smirk.

“Should we be worried about that?” Donnie asked, pointing at the bickering duo.

“Depends: If it's just the flirting we should be fine, but if it goes any further, I might need to rethink my alliance to this team because I cannot handle two of them.” Draxum commented.

Michelangelo was staring at Mikey with a quiet horror as Mikey stuffed his cheeks fit to burst, shoving more food in even as he was hardly swallowing the food he already had in his mouth. A great deal of it was spilling over his lips and dropping onto the floor or onto Mikey’s chest, but no one else around them seemed to care.

“Do you need a napkin?” Michelangelo asked finally.

“Ah’m gooth!”

Michelangelo scrunched up his nose as a flying glob of good hit his plastron, and he visibly pulled away though Mikey didn't seem to notice.

“Now I need a tissue.”

Leo was already leaning over and offering Michelangelo a tissue, which the smaller box turtle happily accepted and used to clean himself.

“And that, dear Michael, if why I’m not in the splash zone.” Donatello laughed from his same distance, sipping on his pea flower margarita.

Leo only just noticed what it was Donatello appeared to be drinking and leaned over to whisper to Leonardo. “Is that a... margarita?”

“Relax, it’s non-alcoholic!” Leonardo whispered, The added, “But he doesn’t know that.”

“Mm.” Leo nodded with pursed lips, then added quietly, “C… can I get…?”

Leonardo smiled and was subtle in summoning a blue cocktail and giving it over to the excited box turtle, who was practically dancing in place as he sucked the blue rock candy off the rim.

Raphael tried his best to enjoy the festivities. It was their last night in this world and he knew he should be spending it laughing and eating and joking with his new friends, but he couldn’t bring himself to do any of that. He kept looking back at Michelangelo and Donatello. Looking back at Leonardo. They had all done so well without him, and their plan had worked, and they didn't even need him there…

Leonardo stood up quite suddenly on the pizza box table, raising his Dr.Pepper into the air and seeming to command everyone's attention with his presence alone.

“I would just like to say that I for one thing we all did a good job today!” Leonardo declared, “We took out one great evil from both of our worlds in a single day, and we earned this!”

That earned him a rumble of approval from the rest of the group.

“And I would like to thank Draxum for that excellent triple-betrayal he pulled off, and he was very convincing!”

“Didn't have to smash my head off the ground though.” April grumbled under her breath.

“But it was good fun.” Draxum smiled and nodded pointedly.

“New personal grudges aside! I just wanted to say you all did exceptionally well and you should all be very proud.”

“I’d drink to that.” Raph raised his pie to Cassandra, and Cassandra met the clink halfway before both of them shoved their pie in their mouths. “Guess I’ll eat pie instead.”

Raphael laughed, but his heart wasn’t in it. Even now, hours after the fact, Leonardo was still praising and encouraging everyone to have a good time, and here Raphael was sitting alone with a plate of food he’s barely nibbled on, saying nothing and doing nothing. Maybe there really was a reason why Splinter had made Leo the leader. And maybe it would be better like that in Raphael’s world…

***

“Hey bro.”

Leonardo pulled himself onto the bed beside Raphael. The two of them were the last ones awake, everyone else having eaten themselves into a food coma or simply passed out. Leonardo was sure there was no way that O’Neil or Casey would make it to their early shifts in the morning, but they deserved the rest. They all did. That was why Leonardo was here: he wanted to know why Raphael had yet to join the pile out mutants and humans and Yokai currently passed out in the living room.

“Hey.” Raphael sat on the bed that belonged to Mikey, his hands folded over his mouth as if he were in deep concentration.

“You okay, big bro?” Leonardo wrapped his arm around Raphael and gave him a tight squeeze.

“Yeah. Fine.”

Leonardo frowned. His head cocked slightly as he waited to see if Raphael would say anything else before giving the snapper a playful prod in the side. “Hey! Looks like your shells doing better! You look less like a badly wrapped mummy and more like a house that got TP’d! That’s good, right?”

Raphael didn't answer beyond a weak laugh.

“Hey…” Leonardo put his hand on Raphael’s knee and gave it a gentle squeeze, “It’s okay. Do you wanna talk about it, or… or is it more of a together in silence type thing?”

Raphael blinked as he finally noticed Leonardo beyond automatic responses. “Huh?”

“You thinking about…?” Leonardo knew better than to say the name.

“What? No— uh. I… barely remember it.”

That was a lie and Leonardo could tell it. He could see the haunted flashes in Raphael’s eyes as he had been staring blankly at nothing. He didn't dare bring it up though.

“Hey, that’s good.” Leonardo smiled, “Is… something else on your mind then? Something I can help with?”

“You… just did a good job out there today, Leo and… I’m sorry I wasn’t there to see it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Leonardo laughed, “I was bullshitting my way through everything!”

“Language!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Leonardo laughed and held his hands up in apology. “But seriously dude! I had no idea what I was doing!”

“But you pulled it off!” Raphael said, “God knows I couldn’t have. I would be a sobbing mess if… if that had been you in there instead of me. I’m not sure I would’ve been able to figure out how to get you out.”

“I wasn’t even sure I could get you out!” Leonardo quickly said, “I was just going out on a limb and risked it all!”

“And you did it! I would have never pulled that off…”

Leonardo stared at his brother for the longest time before he smiled. “Yeah, you’re right! You couldn’t have!”

Raphael looked up immediately. “Excuse me?”

Leonardo stood up and laughed, swinging his sword around casually as if he were on top of the world. “I mean, really, maybe this world’s Splinter knew what he was doing when he made his Leonardo leader. Obviously, Leo’s do a good job. Better than a Raph could do!”

Raphael growled and stood up. “Now you’re just being obnoxious.”

“Really? Oh man I didn't mean to.” Leonardo gave Raphael a pat on the back, smiling as Raphael glared down at him with an almost predatory look. “What? You’re gonna fault me for stating the truth? Questioning the quid-pro-quo, maybe Raph’s just aren’t meant to lead.”

Raphael stepped to Leonardo, prodding the turtle on the chest, and giving a loud growl. “You take that back, Leo! A Raph is just as capable as a Leo!”

“Then prove it.” Leonardo showed his teeth in an animalistic display of a challenge. “You and me, on a rooftop, doesn’t matter which one. Tonfa ni taisuri odachi. Odachi against tonfa.”

“You’re on.”

[galacticlamps]

ugh i haven’t had much free time lately but i still cant stop thinking about this companion chronicle set that’s supposed to finally be coming out this month, and it’s not like i’ve got anywhere else to rant about it so lemme do that here real quick & hopefully clear out some brain space -

obviously i wanna listen to it as soon as that’s a possibility - i “held off” on pre-ordering it for “a long time” but even that was like. well over a year ago now (which is its own very big yikes, especially since i hardly ever do that) - and i really like the range & its format in general and it’s dwindled down so much now.... but at the same time - i really like the range & it’s dwindled down so much now, and i’ve been waiting for it for so long already - i definitely dont wanna just binge it all at once, and again, haven’t had much free time lately anyway - so i guess im hoping it doesnt come out too soon & maybe holds off toward the end of the month when i’ve got a better shot at having time to appreciate it? is that hoping for too much from a boxset that’s been torturing me with its release date for actual literal years now?

& maybe it’s just bc i’ve been paying more attention than usual, but i feel like bf just rapidfire released a bunch of pretty highly anticipated stuff in the last, like, week and a half (apologies if my perception of time is a little wonky rn i could be wrong w that) and tbh i was relieved every time i saw it was stranded and unbound and the new first doctor range.... and now the cc’s are the only doctor who range left with a release slated for april, yet we’re only halfway thru the month - but they’ve also got two torchwoods, a blakes 7, and a thunderbirds which could very well be next up given the gerry anderson promotion - so maybe they will hold off for another week or so, just to spread out the dw ones? not that that’s something they’ve been worried about this month so far of course... and then another part of my brain is like, they seem to like dates over there even if they don’t like announcing them, and there’s a jamie backstory(?) episode on the set.... it’s not impossible they’d put it out tomorrow, the in-universe anniversary of the character’s introduction...but then again again it’s the day before sea devils & they might not wanna put out anything at all too close to that, but then again again again im assuming they dont view sea devils & 2nd dr companion chronicles vol 3 as being aimed at the exact same audience (even tho i personally think they should, whatwith all the queer ppl in this fandom who enjoy letting this show ruin our lives) so maybe they could? judging by the, well, everything about this boxset, i feel like it’s safe to say it isn’t expected to be a tremendous draw, so maybe they’d see no harm in its release so completely paling in comparison to the tv special?

i dont know????

anyways there’s only one thing i know for sure & that would have to be the fact that i’m overthinking this, so hopefully typing it out will somehow export the question from my brain a bit since it literally. does not. matter. at all.

#honestly if tumblr had a poll function i wouldve asked everyone when we thought it'd be out ages ago #just to see if anybody could guess it correctly #ah well #there are soo many things i've been trying and failing to make time for in my personal life this is absolutely low on the list #much as i love it #but i've noticed every time bf put something out lately i spent a tiny moment panicking a little until i knew what it was #perhaps it's just a question of 'what does it even look like to live in a world where no part of my mind is waiting for this release?' #it's been so long i've forgotten what it feels like to not have it out there in the future nebulously #oh companion chronicles the things you do to me

[choco-mark]

A Marriage of Inconvenience (6)

overall pairing: mafia!jeno x mafia!oc

overall genre: angst | smut | fluff

warnings: language, mentions of violence + death, jeno threatening to kill hyuck, mentions of sex, explicit sex, angry/rough sex, choking, manhandling (kinda), unprotected sex (be safe!!!), somnophilia, oral (fem. receiving), overstimulation, praise kink (kinda), moaning kink, crying during sex, i literally wrote fucking filth okay??

summary: when two mafia gangs decide to end their family feud after decades, your mother decides to give your hand away to marriage of their son, lee jeno. he seemed to hate you from the moment he laid his eyes on you, but could the resolution lead to something much more than a bride and groom?

words: 4.7k

masterlist

requested by 🤡 anon

27 April

Despite your threat to leave nearly a week ago, you hadn’t left the palace since that moment—well, you hadn’t really taken a step out of your room other than to go to Jisung’s room, and Mark had so nicely guided you on a pathway from your room to his. You also hadn’t talked to Jeno since then, also considering that he was being a complete asshole to you from the moment you had even entered the house nearly two weeks ago. He was just that—an absolute asshole.

Jisung had been taken back to the Park mansion two days earlier, leaving you with a tight hug and a promise that you would indeed see him again, just to be ripped from your grip one more time. At least he had healed enough for the Parks to...not be completely suspicious to the point where they declared some war on the Lees, and it was good enough for him to be sent back. It wasn’t easy, staying in your room with absolutely nothing to do other than to sit by the window and enjoy the air, or listen to Mark talk about virtually nothing for hours. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy his company, he was just so talkative to the point that you would zone out to the sound of his voice and focus on how your life could’ve been if you didn’t ever leave your home.

You didn’t know what you expected for Jeno to do, however: come visit you? apologize to you? maybe tell you that he’s sorry for being the main cause of your misery? But you hadn’t seen that handsome face of him for the past week, and only when you had briefly mentioned him to Mark, he had told you that Jeno’s birthday had passed on the twenty-third. And he hadn’t celebrated it in the least. You didn’t expect him, or any of the Lees to be celebrators of their birthdays, but Mark had insisted that this was just a Jeno thing: he never wanted to take note of the fact that he was born on that day.

Jeno, however, felt like a complete failure of a fiancee when he saw you storm out of his bedroom with tears and a broken voice, and he couldn’t even bring it up to himself to ask why the fuck he decided to explode on you as if everything was your fault. It really wasn’t, not even in the slightest, but he also couldn’t find anyone else to blame: his father? your father? both families? But he knew that he had fucked up when he saw someone as strong as you cry with real tears streaming down your face the way you did when Jisung lunged himself in front of a week earlier. And the worst part was, he wasn’t really much different from Taeyong, being the reason that you were shedding tears and being the cause of your pain. He felt like shit.

And maybe he deserved to feel like shit when he hesitated in front of your door every single time he built up the courage to actually go up to your room, and maybe he felt like shit when he sent Mark in there instead, to see how you were doing. Were you eating right? Were you feeling better? Were you recovering properly the way you were supposed to? He didn’t know why he wanted to know how you were doing, but he felt obligated in a way, obligated to keep you—safe.

Mark told him that you were—softer. Softer than the way you were when you first came to the palace, and he said that it was because of your brother; that your brother made you softer on the inside and messed with your emotions. Taeyong was smart in that way, emotionally manipulating you with your core weakness, family. You knew that you went soft whenever it came to Jisung, but you couldn’t help it anyway, seeing him hurt meant that it hurt you more, mentally and physically.  

It was around eight in the evening when Jeno decided for about the hundredth time that he had the courage to storm up to your room and apologize to you about being—a shitty person to you. He stood in front of your door again, a hand raised to knock but it never actually meeting the wood, hesitation going through his blood. What if she doesn’t want to talk to me? Obviously she wouldn’t, you were a fucking idiot towards her.

“You’re not backing out this time,” Jeno jumped from the sound of a familiar voice, double-taking on the owner of the sweet voice behind him. Donghyuck was standing behind him with his arms crossed, a slight smirk painting his face as he nodded towards your door. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you chicken out on actually going into her room for like—the past fucking week. Don’t be a pussy, Jeno...”

“I haven’t been chickening out,” he answered quietly, looking at the intricate door and then back to Donghyuck, his voice lacking any real confidence. “I just don’t want to be—rude or anything.”

“Rude? You’re worried about being rude, now?” He asked incredulously, the one eyebrow with a perfect slit raising as he leaned against the wall, the sound of voice increasing slightly until Jeno gave him a look. “Okay, okay. Just—get over yourself and apologize to her. She deserves it, you know. She’s a pretty one.” Donghyuck hummed thoughtfully after that, making his brother give him a pointed look. “I mean, just stating facts. She’s pretty, she’s got a pretty voice, and everything about her is—pretty.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he growled softly, and Donghyuck put his hands up in mock defense, shaking his head. “She’s mine.” The words tasted familiar on his tongue, like they were meant to be there as he gave him another cocky look. “Don’t look at me like that, Hyuck. I’ll kill her if you even lay a hand on her.”

“Feisty, okay,” he punctuated the last word with a smack of his lips, pursing them carefully as he rolled his eyes. “Just listen. You were an ass, and she probably still thinks you’re an ass because you’re the only one here that can’t get over his massive ego. She’s not stupid, either, so don’t half-ass your apology. Get it over with and then eat her out, simple.”

Jeno could’ve spit out his water if he had any in his mouth. Donghyuck just shrugged after his words, as if he hadn’t just given his older brother some—sex advice? “She’ll definitely forgive you if you suck on her clit, okay? You’ve stressed the pretty girl out enough, so go make her cum a few times. Oh, and you might wanna close the door, these servants just walk in on their own accord these days.”

“Hyuck, if you don’t fucking shut up right now, I’m gonna choke you to death.”

“Kinky,” he wiggled his eyebrows, dodging Jeno’s hand as he lunged for the collar of his shirt. “Yikes! You might not want to show her that side yet, it’s a little too early. See ya!” He backed away from his grip, swaying down the hallway till the end turn, giving him a small wave, and then disappearing.

Suck on her clit...make her cum a few times. That doesn’t sound...that bad? His eyes fell back on your door, the one that he had been standing in front of for the past few days, never having the actual courage to give it a sharp knock and see your face again. But she probably doesn’t want to see me anyway. Hyuck’s right. I was an ass...and I kinda still am. Jeno raised up his hand again, resting it softly against the wood so it wouldn’t make a noise. Okay, on three.

One.

Two.

Three.

He left a sharp few hits to the wood, regretting it almost immediately with every single cell in his body. Shit, shit, shit, I should leave. Okay, fuck. You already knocked on the fucking door, Lee Jeno, you can’t leave now, she’s just gonna hate you even more. Fuck, did she hear it? Maybe I should—

“Mark?” Your voice was euphonious, the name of his older brother ringing through the room, though it was muffled from the distance that he heard it. “I said you don’t have to knock anymore, just come in.” His pursed his lips at your words. Mark’s been coming in without knocking?

Even though you were basically inviting him in, his feet didn’t move to his mind, staying planted. Suddenly, the ground looked very appealing to it. He never really seemed to realize how nicely the expensive wood floor looked against the walls and the door. Maybe he’d end this mafia business and just become an architect instead.

The door swung open, revealing your unsuspecting figure as you focused on Jeno’s face, your face falling as you realized who was finally outside of your door after what seemed like decades. “Oh...” You sounded disappointed to see him, which wasn’t necessarily the case for you. You were just—surprised. “You’re not...Mark,” you trailed off, looking away from him.

“Can I come in?”

He didn’t sound as harsh as he did when he spoke to you last, but you couldn’t let it deceive you this time. Your hand curled around the doorknob, getting ready the slam the door in his face eventually. “No.” You weren’t as firm as you wished to be, but that’s what the flat piece of wood of a door was for. You swung it forward, but Jeno’s foot stopped it first, halting it halfway through it’s motion.

“Please? I just want to talk...” He sounded desperate, your heart twisting at the sound. You shook your head in denial. Nope, I’m not letting him in again. I can’t let him in any longer. “Y/N, please.” There it is again, saying my name like that.

“Stop saying my name like that,” you muttered, still trying to close the door on him but failing. “Just go. Leave me alone.” You realized that you were sounding like a child, but you didn’t really care at this point. “Just go!”

Jeno already had a short temper, that was something that was obvious to almost everyone in that entire palace, and your stubbornness was annoying him by the second. All he wanted to do was set things right, apologize to you properly for being an asshole the entire time, but you weren’t quite making it easy for him. Well, he couldn’t really blame you, if you had done the same thing, he probably wouldn’t want to see you either. But it was prickling his nerves intently, annoying him from the way you were even refusing to hear him out.

“Y/N, just listen to me for one minute,” he tried to keep his voice level, to sound sane as you didn’t budge. “Y/N! Just listen to what I have to say!”

“Why should I listen to you?!” You snapped back, and you knew that you had hit a nerve of his when his tongue poked at his cheek, darting out to lick his lips shortly. For some reason, it made you oddly satisfied to piss him off, the urge to push him further down the road fueling you as you bit down on a smirk of pride. “You’re such a fucking prick, Lee Jeno!”

That did it. The foot that was holding the door with such patience was removed for a brief moment, only for him to kick it back with so much power that it startled you. He made his way in, nearly making you stumble backwards as he slammed it shut with a loud sound, grabbing your body and pinning you to the wood in less than a second. Your breath hitched as tried to squirm away from the tight grip he held on your wrists, but his eyes were pouring into you, bright will a newfound anger and...lust?

His hand went to cup your core the same time he attacked your lips, basically crashing them together so hard that you thought your mouth would bleed from the action. “I’m a prick?” He asked between kisses, nipping at your lip with his teeth as his eyes never left yours. “What? You like that?” The hand that was over your clothed pussy rubbed with an increasing friction, your strong demeanor falling as he did so. “You like it when I touch you there? Huh?”

As much as you didn’t want to admit it to him, you nodded your head, panting as you did so. “You are a prick, so fucking—selfish, fuck...” His hands had dipped past your jeans and panties, fingers roughly caressing your folds that were growing wet by the second. Your hands were grasping his forearms as he continued the fast paced motion, making you double over. “Fuck, fuck, fuck...”

“You’re a brat, Y/N,” he snarled, stopping momentarily to basically rip off your jeans, throwing them behind him as he yanked down your panties, leaving you bare to him. “You can’t even listen to me when I ask you to, so disobedient. I was trying to be fucking nice for once.”

“Shut up,” you pierced him with your gaze as you watched him kick off his own boxers, taking in the sight of his fully erect cock. “What? Is this why you came here? Because you fucked up with your words and now you’re so fucking hard for me?! You deserve it...” He thrusted into you, hard and raw as you let out a yelp of pain, your fingers digging into his arm as he started a brutal pace.

“Deserve what?” He mocked, grabbing you by the jaw to push your head back, moving forward to suck at your neck. “Deserve to be called a prick? You think you can talk to me like that?” You fisted a hand in his hair, pulling at the locks hard enough to elicit a moan from him. “You’re the one dripping all over the floor for me.”

“You’re not my father,” you scratched at his chest, trying not to let him know how good he was making you feel. “Fuck off, Jeno.”

He groaned at the sound of his name, pushing you even harder against the door as he thrusted impossibly deeper, making your entire body go limp as you wrapped your legs around his hips. You were trying to get ahold of yourself, to keep yourself grounded but the way he was fucking you so desperately made you lose your mind.

Jeno noticed your fucked out expression as he pulled back from your neck, feeling the hot skin under your shirt as he raked it upwards, grasping onto you tightly. You looked so good like that, so drunk on his cock that you couldn’t focus on anything but it. Oh, it just felt that good. “At least you‘ll fucking listen to me now,” he continued, hitting your sweet spot with such a force that had you crying out. “Oh, baby, does that feel good?” Good? Good was a fucking understatement of how it felt, the way his cock was dragging across your tightened walls, clenching over him every time his gruff voice hit your ear. He could tell you liked it—no—loved it, and he took it to his advantage, stilling with his cock buried deep inside of your pussy that your eyes fluttered open in response.

You tried bucking your hips, but his strength held you to the wall, driving you crazy. “You gonna listen to me like a good girl, now?” He asked, a little softer as his hand cupped at your cheek for a moment. You tried shying away but his grip was still there. “Answer me.”

“Just fuck me, Jeno,” you said breathlessly, arching your back to get him to move again. “Come on!”

He could’ve sworn you fucking whimpered when he thrusted deeply into you again, hitting your sweet spot as he stilled once again. “Don’t be greedy, princess. Listen to me.” The pet name caught your attention, the weakness of it seeping through as you nodded slowly. “Good girl, you like that? You like it when I praise you, don’t you?” You nodded again, this time falling completely into his hold as his fingers caressed your skin.

“I came here because I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a fucking prick. I’m sorry for treating you like shit from the literal moment I saw you. I’m sorry for trying to kill you, and I’m sorry for your brother getting shot. I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m really fucking sorry.” His breath fanned your face, bringing you back to reality for a moment to see his sincere expression. “And I’m not just saying this because you’re letting me fuck you against the door.”

You let out an unhumorous chuckle, “Yeah? I don’t believe you.” Now you were just trying to push his buttons. You could see how his eyes had changed from their sparkle of lust to something else as he spoke to you, but they changed back, and the hand on your cheek moved down to your neck instead. His fucking was hard as his fingers pressed at the sides of your throat, your moans now coming out choked.

“You’ll believe me when I’m done with you, princess,” he whispered into your ear, removing his hand just to slam you against the door again, the action knocking the breath out of you. “Look at you, so fucking helpless for my cock. Aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes?” You couldn’t even answer his taunt, holding onto him for dear life as he pounded into you to your orgasm. You scratched down his back, letting out a loud moan as he drove you into overstimulation. He took you harder, his cock causing you oversensitiveness as you felt him chase after his own high. With a groan, he came, filling you up with his milky liquid as you threw your head back at the feeling of his cum inside of you.

Jeno pulled out his already softening dick, watching as his essence dripped out of your hole down your thighs, even decorating the wood underneath the two of you with the liquid. As he unwound your legs from around his hips, he set you back down on your two feet with ease, even though you stumbled into him anyway, clutching at his shirt desperately as he held you from falling. “That good, huh?”

“Fuck off, Jeno.”

28 April

“She came once?!” Donghyuck asked incredulously, pointing at Jeno accusingly as he rolled his eyes at his exaggeration. This was probably the third time he asked him with the same tone, completely baffled to the point where he was scoffing in disbelief. “What about ‘make her cum a few times’ did you not fucking understand?!”

“She pissed me off, okay! I just got—too into the moment and took her against the door, but I think she liked it...” He trailed off, remembering how you had looked at him with those huge gleaming eyes of yours, begging silently for him to fuck you into oblivion while he was attempting to apologize. “But, er—I did apologize.”

“And? How’d she take that?”

Jeno blinked, the only memory coming back to him being your answer in order to rile him up into stuffing you with his cock again. He looked sheepishly over at his brother, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, well. She told me she didn’t believe me so I just made her cum.” Donghyuck didn’t seem impressed. “What?! Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?” He crossed his arms, sighing dramatically. “Like you just fucked your fiancee after I told you to act like a sane person and apologize with your mouth?”

“No! Like I did something wrong!”

“Uh, um, well. You fucked your fiancee after I told you to act like a sane person and apologize with your mouth, and you left her to an empty room in the morning to come and fucking talk to me?! How do you expect her to forgive you after that? Or worse, how do you expect her to let you fuck her after that?!”

“Wow, priorities,” Jeno rolled his eyes at his brother’s words, leaning back against his bed. “And I didn’t leave her like that! I did the aftercare shit and I was there the whole night, you know, and I like hugged her and shit. It was cute...you know?”

Donghyuck massaged his forehead. “Cuddling, Jeno. It’s called cuddling. Get your endearment terms together and maybe you can work this thing out with her. Have you ever dated before?”

“Er—no?”

“Yeah, that explains a lot.” He shuffled forward, crossing his legs as if he was about to start lecturing Jeno about the theory of relativity. “So, rule number one. You don’t fuck for forgiveness. It doesn’t work like that. Two, you can’t just fuck her all the time. And three, if you don’t go back to her room and make her cum at least three times, I’ll do it myself. And yes! That’s a fucking threat, brother!”

“You just said I shouldn’t fuck for forgiveness, Hyuck. And I already told you that I’ll kill you if you even dare to touch her—I’m gonna narrow it down to look at her.” Donghyuck didn’t seem fazed by the weak threat, but slapped his thigh instead, startling him. “What was that for?”

“Do you like her?”

“I’m engaged to her.”

“That doesn’t answer the question, jackass.”

“Yes, fuck. Yeah, I like her.”

He grabbed Jeno by the arm, pushing him off the bed as he continued to move towards the door, eventually throwing him out of the room. “So go fucking tell her that, you idiot. And don’t come into my room until you’ve made her cum three times.”

You woke up with a tingling sensation from between your legs, your entire mind in a haze as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, sending too many signals to your brain that you were flooded from the feeling. You didn’t understand what was happening, but as your eyes finally fluttered open to a sight of bright hair between your legs, oh, you knew exactly what was happening.

Jeno was lapping at your folds like a small dog, his tongue swirling over your skin slowly until he noticed you were waking up. He didn’t stop, however, his hands moving to throw your legs over his shoulders before he sent you a silent wink, burying his tongue into your heat again. Your heart jumped, jumped out of your fucking chest when you felt the wet muscle at your most sensitive area, your body responding so quickly with an arch of your back. If this was Jeno’s first time ever giving oral, you wouldn’t have known, considering it was most definitely the first time someone had ever put their mouth on you in such an intimate fashion. He didn’t quite know what he was doing either, considering that he actually hadn’t done this before, but your responses were fueling him to continue.

He stopped momentarily to rub your inner thighs, looking at you with widened eyes as he saw you biting at your lip, your eyes barely open as he moved his finger against your clit instead. “Good morning, princess,” he wouldn’t have found the moment any hotter if you hadn’t came from the sound of his raspy morning voice, a cry ripping from your throat as you felt yourself flush in embarrassment. Jeno, however, was impressed. “Oh my god. You just came. Did you just cum from my voice?” He asked with curiosity, but he knew the answer was yes when you tried to close your legs. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

Jeno felt his ego soar from that, noticing that you were so affected by him as he pressed his lips against your core again, watching as you cried out from the sensitivity. Though he hadn’t ever tasted a pussy before yours, he was sure that it couldn’t get any sweeter. You tasted so good, so wet and fulfilling for him as he practically made out with your clit. The sparks going through your body were way too much, nearly sending you out of this world as you laced your fingers through his hair again, grabbing on something to keep you sane.

Yet, it didn’t keep you sane in the same way, not from the way you heard the lewd sounds coming from between your legs, filling up the entire bedroom along with your voice. He was doing so good, his jaw moving so rapidly that you couldn’t even think about anything else. Nothing but Jeno, Jeno, Jeno. He paused to move down to your hole, teasing his tongue at the entrance before adjusting his grasp on your thighs and easing himself inside. You swore loudly, his name tumbling from your mouth without a second thought as you came again, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

You’ve never felt this good in your entire life before, that was absolutely sure, and you especially knew it when Jeno didn’t even hesitate to continue fucking his tongue into you, making you writhe in the sheets. He was groaning from every time you cried out his name in desperation, the vibrations making you go feral as you came for the third time, tears streaming down your face as it happened.

His hands held a tight grip to your thighs as he didn’t even stop, and you cried out loudly, “Jeno, I can’t, please!” Hands ran up your body, soothing you with sweet nothings as he gave you a small break. You felt him press wet kisses to your lower abdomen, feathering them back down to between your legs once again.

“Just once more, princess,” he cooed, the voice sending shivers through your whole body as it he let out a breath against your clit. “Please? You taste so good, I can’t get enough of you. Just one more time, okay? Once more? Please?”

You fell into his grasp again, his tongue sending you into another universe as he drew soft circles of comfort into your inner thighs. The motion just had you ten times more sensitive than earlier, so much more responsive that you were when he decided to wake you up with that pretty mouth of his. That was it, his mouth was absolutely pretty. It worked so well, bringing your over the edge without a doubt, his lips turning swollen but pleasurably so as he looked up at you every so often to see your reaction. Your folds were still glistening from his saliva and your reoccurring arousal, and the amount of times that he had heard his name fall from your sweet, sweet mouth were uncountable.

You bucked your hips into his mouth as you came for the fourth time, soft sobs filling the room as you felt the wave pass over your body in an overwhelming crash. It was too much, way too much at once but it felt so good at the same time. Jeno finally removed himself from his position, letting you take a good look at him with his face covered in your juices. You threw your head back again, your chest heaving as you sobbed in absolute pleasure, the sight of your fiancee sending your emotions sky high.

“Oh my god,” he settled down next to you, pulling the comforter over both of your bodies before he wiped the tears from your face, his own expression during concerned. “Did that hurt? Please tell me that I didn’t hurt you.” You shook your head immediately, raising your hand to grasp his wrist weakly. “Did you like it? Did I do good?” He asked, his eyes searching yours as a way of needing approval. “Did I make you feel good?”

You didn’t know why you were crying, maybe it was the way you felt so intimately connected with him, maybe it was the way that his mouth had made you feel, maybe it was the way you felt so vulnerable under his control, or maybe it was the way that you felt your heart leap with just a simple glance to Jeno’s pleading eyes. But you took a single chance, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his.

“Yes.”

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I LITERALLY WROTE THIS IN A DAY, anyway, i hope you guys enjoyed that because it was f i l t h and i don’t think i’ve ever written so much fucking smut in one post. anyway, there is only one more part after this and an epilogue!! :) love you babes <3 don’t expect...to much angst after this, but i can’t promise anything ;))

#a marriage of inconvenience #jeno mafia au #yes i accidentally posted this yesterday what about it #lee jeno #jeno smut #jeno angst #jeno fluff #jeno fanfic #jeno #jeno fic #nct mafia au #nct dream mafia au #nct dream mark #mark lee #nct dream #nct #lee haechan #haechan #donghyuck #lee donghyuck #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream fics #nct dream au #nct dream scenarios #minas smut work

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Tightrope Fanfic

Title: Tightrope

Summary:  Virgil feels lost. It’s not a foreign feeling, especially when one is the embodiment of Anxiety. But it feels like one as he stares down at a sniffling Roman in his arms. He doesn’t know what has happened. One moment, the others are having their spat about the wedding. The next, Roman barges into his room mid-breakdown and hasn’t left since. 

Pairings: platonic prinixety

Word-Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Crying, Anger, Panic, Discussion of POF, Hurt/Comfort

This is a companion fic to Safety Net, but you don’t have to read that one to understand the context of this one <3

-

Virgil feels lost. It’s not a foreign feeling, especially when one is the embodiment of Anxiety. But it feels like one as he stares down at a sniffling Roman in his arms. He doesn’t know what has happened. One moment, the others are having their spat about the wedding. The next, Roman barges into his room mid-breakdown and hasn’t left since.

He keeps expecting the rug to be pulled out from under him. That perhaps this is some delayed April’s Fool joke. A ploy by Remus or one of the Others to fuck with him. His mind crafts a thousand possibilities, a thousand explanations for why this can’t be reality.

Because Virgil doesn’t know how to handle a Roman who fell from a great height and shattered completely. What if he cannot put the pieces back together again? What if he messes up and makes things worse? What if he’s the one to cause this in the first place?

No, he refuses to go down that spiraling thought pattern. Because if he unravels now, then he’ll be completely useless to Roman. He compartmentalizes the fear, stuffing it away to haunt him at a later date.

Roman’s cries have died down to a few hiccuping gasps of air. The ever-poised, ever-presentable Prince of Passion is anything but. He lays in Virgil’s arms, as limp and lifeless as a doll. His white princely jacket wrinkly and half-undone, red sash hanging loosely. Virgil cannot see his eyes from underneath his rumpled, messy hair but he’s willing to bet they’re bloodshot. Virgil bits his lips as he notes the dark ichor running down Roman’s cheeks like smeared mascara. 

Roman has been in his room for far too long. Especially for someone who was already in a fragile emotional state upon showing up. Virgil shouldn’t have allowed him to stay. But he couldn’t find in himself to deny Roman, not when he’d looked at Virgil with a helpless terror in his eyes. So he had chosen instead to hold onto a sobbing Roman while trying to figure out what the hell happened. 

The clock in his room is hardly reliable, but he’s certain at least an hour has passed and he’s still nowhere closer than he’d been at the start. Which is that it involves the stupid wedding, Patton and Deceit. The latter of which, apparently told them his actual name. He won’t know more unless Roman divulges more. And in the swirling storm of hysteria that is his room, the chances of that happening is slim.

Before he can let doubt rake its claws into him, he pulls Roman closer to his chest and syncs out. Roman realizes a moment too late what’s happening. He lets out a startled gasp, tries pushing away, but it’s too late. With a loud crackle, they appear in the gloomy fog of a dead forest.

Roman looks around, eyebrows bunched up together. If this was any other situation, Virgil might’ve smirked.

“It’s the imagination,” Virgil says, answering the question behind Roman’s bewildered gaze, “Or at least my little pocket of it. No one will find us here.”

Well maybe except Remus, the one responsible for its creation. Virgil is hoping that today will not be the day he decides to return here for the first time in years.

Roman opens his mouth to speak, yet hesitates halfway through. He turns his head away from Virgil, shrugging. Virgil’s cold dead heart plummets at this. Roman isn’t supposed to be this defeated. He’s supposed to be stubborn, obstinate, argumentative. Virgil knows how to handle that. He knows how to bait Roman into banter, to get him to admit the root of his problems. But this? He doesn’t know how to deal with a Roman this apathetic. And that scares him.

Virgil should apologize, he thinks. After everything that happened, he hunkered down in his room. He stayed away thinking his presence would only be detrimental than beneficial. He was Anxiety after all, flight or fight. In this case, he chose flight. But obviously, like everything else in his existence, that’d been the wrong choice yet again.

He inhales deeply, his breath hitching at the last moment, the words refusing to come out. They remain stuck in clumps inside his throat, refusing to solidify into verbal spoken words. The ghostly howl of the wind is the only sound between the two.

Then Roman laughs. It sounds more like a cat hacking up a hairball than his usual melodious chuckles. It’s loud, harsh and absolutely dripping with pain. Halfway through he ends up in a coughing fit. Virgil watches, unsure how to respond.

“You were right.” Roman croaks at last, sagging heavily against a tree.

Those words aren't what Virgil likes to hear. It’s never good when he, Anxiety, is right.  He’d much prefer to be proven wrong. Even if that meant Roman lording it over his head for weeks on end. It’s annoying as hell and he never thought he’d miss that until now.

Virgil swallows, pushing the sudden ache in his chest aside. He doesn’t need confirmation to know what he was right about.

 Still, his heart thudding heavily in his chest, he asks anyways, “About Janus?”

Roman nods, grimacing. 

“Ro, what happened?” Virgil asks, unable to hold that question within himself any longer.

The fanciful side doesn’t respond at first. His hand traces the grooves of the bark on the tree he’s leaned against. His lips twist and contort, as if fighting to find the words to say. Virgil isn’t sure if he’s ever seen Roman ever at a loss for words until now.

“I thought it was a villainous trick at first. Just another ploy to get us to trust him. I made fun of it, even. It wasn’t until the way you reacted when I mentioned it to you that I thought otherwise,” Roman says, breaking in mid-conscious thought. Something that is very Roman-like, forgetting other people can’t read his mind. There must be something in Virgil’s face because he clarifies, “Deceit’s name I mean.”

“I mean, I don’t blame you,” Virgil says slowly, toying with his hoodie strings, “He never told any of the Others.”

“But he told you?”

Now it’s Virgil’s turn to stare at the ground. The ache in his chest returns, except it’s different. It’s like a fire-pit at a summer camp-out. It’s warm and comfortable to linger next to, but stay too long and you’ll be sweltering in the unbearable suffocating heat. The same goes for thinking about the past. That’s why he hates getting nostalgic. It’s hard to reminisce about the good times without remembering why they ended.

The old him that hasn’t been extinguished yet, the one that called himself Janus’ friend, is indignant that Roman apparently made fun of Janus’ name. However the newer him that calls himself Virgil and wears the purple hoodie, isn’t. Good, he thinks, he deserves it. And he isn’t too ashamed of feeling that way. Not after the raging forest fire that burnt down their friendship in the first place.

“Yeah.” Virgil breaths out with stifled lungs. He can feel Roman’s eyes burning a hole in his head. He thinks he’d find an unspoken question in them if he looks up. He doesn’t elaborate. He isn’t in the mood for scorching his tongue on the ashes of a cremated friendship. Especially when it’d shift the focus onto him and not Roman. Something he’s certain Roman wants despite it being so rare for him to flinch away from the spotlight. 

For all their vast, stark differences, they aren’t really that different when it comes down to several things, one being that neither of them like showing weakness. They are also incredibly stubborn. It just so happens Virgil has the stronger resolve at this moment.

“I trusted him,” Roman says, continuing where he’d left off, “I trusted him, I thought he’d knew best and I just wanted--” 

A huff cuts off Roman’s words as he flings his arms towards the sky. He paces in front of Virgil, muttering bits and pieces too quick for him to understand. Perhaps he does need to share a little. Just to help Roman know and understand he isn’t alone. 

“Listen, I get it,” Virgil says, “I also trusted Janus once too--”

“No, it wasn’t Janus--well, yes, but--” Roman yanks at his hair, “I meant Patton!”

Patton? Virgil feels as if he'd been riding on the flying magic rug from Aladdin. Only the magic rug has been ripped from underneath him and now he’s freefalling into a waterfall full of sharp pointy rocks at the bottom.

He’d thought he knew where this conversation was heading except now he’s lost more than ever before. He needs a minute to breathe, to process what’s happening. Roman doesn’t give him that. He pushes on, shaking his head like a riled-up mistreated stallion from a horse girl movie.

“I wanted to do what was right for Thomas and--and Patton has always known what’s right, right?”

He gazes desperately at Virgil, searching for reassurance, for affirmation. Virgil’s heart sinks. He can't honestly give that to Roman, though he'd love to give Roman whatever his heart desires to stop his pain. 

Patton tries his best, he really does. But even he is wrong sometimes. He has made mistakes, ones that have hurt Virgil himself both past and present. And although Virgil has forgiven him, it doesn’t change the fact that even their softest puffball isn’t always right.

He can tell Roman realizes that by the way his scowl grows bigger.

“Am I too dimwitted?” Roman growls, “Was I the only one foolish enough to believe that? Just like believing that I could truly be--be--” 

He lets out a tormented scream, slumping down against a tree. Head bowed, knees drawn close, arms pulled tightly around himself. Virgil stands a few feet away, still so far from understanding as he was when Roman first appeared in his room. Only that apparently he needed to kick both Janus’ and Patton’s collective asses.

Virgil withholds a sigh as he crouches down next to Roman. 

A gloomy fog hardly provides the best lighting. It’s better than the dark murkiness of his room, however, and it’s here that he notices something. A blueish-purple splotch of something. Just barely poking out of Roman’s collar. It’s then, Virgil remembers that a metaphoric “bruised ego” is anything but metaphoric for one metaphysical entity such as Roman, Creativity and Ego in one.

“Princey,” Virgil says, his voice unusually level, “did you get hurt by what happened earlier?”

Roman doesn’t answer his question. Not directly at least. “Lee and Mary Lee hardly spoke to Thomas at the wedding, did you know that?”

“Yeah,” Virgil bites his lips, “I knew that.”

It’s a rhetorical question. Of course Virgil knows--he’s a part of Thomas. He’d been with Thomas during the wedding. The leg bouncing up and down in an anxious jitter. Directing the eyes away from the merriment of the wedding and towards that pointless moronic mobile game. The clenching feeling in Thomas’ throat during the brief interaction with Lee and Mary Lee. He hadn’t even been able to say hello because of Virgil.

He’d tried so hard to hold back, to not torment Thomas with his decision anymore than his host had already endured. It didn’t really matter in the end. As Thomas finally slipped away from the wedding, so had Virgil slipped into his room. He ignored the muffled noises of the debate erupting outside the mindscape. Why show his face when Thomas already knew what his input would be? Or knowing what he’d once been, for that matter? Or at least, that had been his justifications at the time.

“Which hardly seems fair! After what I--Thomas sacrificed to be there for them. B-but it’d been the right decision, right?” Roman laughs, shaking his head. He doesn’t wait for an answer as he pushes on, “Was it too selfish to expect more? To think that making the right decision would result in an award?”

Virgil stays silent. Morality isn’t his forte; sure as Anxiety he often cautioned Thomas to follow societal rules. It’s often easier to go with the current rather than fight against it. So he’s hardly the most reliable source of it. 

And as for his role, both the wedding and the call-back offered the same amount of dread. After all, he’s Anxiety. It’s literally his job to nitpick and point out every single thing a situation could go wrong, no matter how improbable or absurd. Unlike Roman, he’d be lying if he said he was surprised by the outcome of the wedding. It’s not far off from what he had predicted.

On the flipside, he could offer a million ways of how the audition could’ve ended poorly. A tear in Thomas’ pants mid-audition. Thomas blanking out on a crucial line. A meteor falling from the atmosphere and effectively crushing Thomas to death. Okay, that last one is highly improbable but it could still happen! You never know!

Regardless, he doubted any of that is what Roman needed to hear.

“I trusted him. He’d said it’d been the right decision when I made it. And I believed him.” Roman scoffs.

Virgil frowns, cautiously sitting a few feet away from Roman. He chooses not to look him in the eye, treating him as if he’s an easily-startled wild creature.

“Y’know, he and I are going through a bit of a rough patch. He’s trying his best, I know he is. But take it from me--sometimes someone’s best isn’t always good enough. And I think it’s okay if it...takes time for you to forgive Patton.”

“No!”

“No?”

“I mean,” Roman lets out a frustrated scream, “I don’t know! Before, there was a script, a stage, parts to play. Ones I had intimately memorized! But it’s as if it’s before the curtain rises before the opening show and the director has thrown out the script completely. He expects me after years of practice to perform something I’ve never seen--that even he has no concept of what it looks like and h-how is any actor expected to perform in such conditions?” 

A light-bulb finally goes off in Virgil’s head.

“You’re...angry at Thomas, aren’t you?”

Roman flinches as he’d been struck, throwing his body backwards harshly against the tree. He looks hardly affected by it as he scrambles quickly to his feet.

“Wh-what? No! That’s absurd!” Roman protests, “I’m not angry at Thomas--”

“But you are,” Virgil interrupts, rising to his feet, “You’re angry at both Patton and Janus, yeah, but they’re just targets to throw your misplaced anger at. Because you don’t want to admit it’s actually Thomas--”

“Yes, because you’re wrong, Mary Mary Q-quite Misconstrued!” Roman puffs up his chest, trying to keep his head high, “I--I’d never, I can’t hate Thomas--”

“Whoa, I didn’t say you hated him,” Virgil says, gently tugging Roman’s hands into his own, “there’s a difference between being mad at someone for something, and hating them.”

Roman looks at him with almost a wild gaze to his eyes, so close to almost hyperventilating. Virgil can almost see the invisible cracks in Roman’s skin, his multitude of facades peeling away before Virgil’s eyes. He looks at Roman and sees himself. 

“I used to think they were the same thing,” Virgil begins, “But they’re not. Hate is when you abhor ill will towards someone, when you wish them dead or worse. Anger...anger is just a form of fear. And it’s okay to feel and experience that anger, you don’t have to repress it.”

“I’m not scared of Thomas,” Roman scoffs, his gaze drawn to the forest floor rather than Virgil.

“But you are afraid that if Thomas can accept Janus and possibly Remus, then he could just as easily change his mind regarding you, right?” Virgil questions, “You’re afraid because all you've ever done has been in Thomas’ best interest and suddenly now you’re being told all it’s done is hurt him. You’re afraid but you don’t want to admit it, so you turn to anger instead because that’s better than being scared, right?”

“I’m not…” Roman trails off, clenching his jaw. Virgil is fully expecting to get punched by the way his body tenses up. Roman does lunge towards him just then, arms flailing out. Virgil doesn’t even have a chance to raise his arms up in defense before he gets an armful of blubbering prince once more.

“I’m supposed to be Thomas’ hero, he told me I was, but what if I’m not? W-what if I never was? And--and I have to be good, Virgil, I can’t be evil--”

Roman lets it all go then. It’s a tidal wave of anxiety and fears, of self-doubt and self-deprecation. Almost any other person would become overwhelmed by how much perturbation Roman’s kept hidden all these years. But Virgil is Anxiety, his realm is terror and trepidation. He’s experienced every fear-induced thought and more under the sun. He understands it better than perhaps anyone else ever could.

He knows Roman will most likely clam up after today. That later on, they’ll need to address these things in detail and take care of the bruises mottling his skin. Roman will need encouragement to rebuild his confidence and to turn away from self-destructive habits. Both of which are things that Virgil struggles with all too well. He knows it to feel as impossible as walking across a tightrope blindfolded. Right now, however, all Roman needs is for someone to listen.

And so listen Virgil does.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinixety #kat writes

[thunderstormsandmagic]

Caged Animal

“Hey, scum, get up,” a guard yelled as they banged their wand against the bars on the door of his cell. “Your presence is needed once again.” Draco Malfoy waited for the guard to walk away, and then slowly sat up from his cot. He wasn’t sure what day it was. Sometime in April or May? The year was 2003, he knew that for certain. He ran his hands over his face, getting ready for what would be another torturous day of life as Death Eater “scum”, as the guard had so eloquently said. 

After Harry Potter had beaten Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts, the Wizarding world had slowly started to go back to normal. All three members of the Malfoy family had gone back to Malfoy Manor, waiting for the inevitable day when they would be arrested. They all stayed in the same room, as they had when Draco had nightmares as a boy, having their house-elves deliver food and whatever else they needed to them. They never said much, just relished in the fact that for the first time in years, there was not a dark wizard sitting in their home and threatening their lives. Then one day, the Aurors came and all three were arrested. They went willingly, knowing it wasn’t worth putting up a fight. They were all placed in holding cells in Azkaban, himself and his mother in one, and his father in another. His father was quickly tried by the Wizengamot and found guilty, sentenced to life in prison. He passed away shortly after that, his body not being able to handle the poor conditions of Azkaban and knowing he would never see his wife and son again. When Draco and Narcissa were told the news, he held his mother as she cried, praying to Merlin that his mother did not receive the same fate as his father. 

His mother’s trial had gone on longer than his father’s, not as clear cut of a case. Her sentencing had required all of the Malfoy vaults to be drained and the money “donated” to rebuilding Hogwarts. That only left his mother with her inheritance from the Black side of the family. Despite the fact that he was upset at her situation, he was eternally grateful that she avoided Azkaban. He had been told by the guards, taunted more like it, that the great Harry Potter had testified for his mother. 

When it came time for his trial, he knew that there was no way he was going to leave Azkaban. His father had died and his mother had gotten away relatively unscathed. They had wanted to make an example out of his family and he was their last chance to do so. When he had been carted from Azkaban to the Ministry, he didn’t say anything. During his trial, he listened as the various members of the Wizengamot recited his war crimes, embellishing them to be more than they were, but he didn’t argue. He deserved everything that was coming to him. Bloody Harry Potter testified at his trial, just like he had done for his mother. But Hermione Granger also showed up and he couldn’t believe his eyes when her name was called and she went up to the witness stand. He was still in disbelief as he listened to her share her story of how he wouldn’t identify her and her friends when they had been brought to his home. He watched the way her right hand constantly grasped over her left forearm, knowing full well what was under there. He wanted to shout from his cage that she was wrong. Draco didn’t identify her or her friends because he was a good person. It was for his own selfish reasons. The Dark Lord was out of the house and he and his parents tried to enjoy any moment they could without him there. He just did not want him summoned back yet. He had only just left their home. 

He couldn’t look her in the eyes, although he could feel her staring down at him in his cage. He just sat there for the rest of the trail, trying not to let the memory of her torture overwhelm him. Even though two-thirds of the Golden Trio had testified on his behalf, he was still sentenced to life in prison. Not only that, but any money that was his from the Malfoy or Black inheritance was to be “donated” to rebuilding causes from the war. “It’s not like he will be needing it in Azkaban,” he had heard one member of the Wizengamot mumble to another. And so, a week after he turned 18, Draco Malfoy had accepted his fate of life in prison, being someone who the Ministry locked up and forgot about. He had no wand, no magic, no money, and no one thinking of him except his mother.

However, the Ministry did not forget about him. Just about a week after he had been sentenced, a guard had banged on his cell, waking him up, and told him he was wanted at the Ministry. He had been thoroughly confused but was in no place to fight it, so he went. He had been led by two Aurors to an apparition site that went straight into the Ministry. When he arrived, he was placed in a holding cell. After waiting for a while, a member of the Wizengamot arrived and told him that he was here to testify against other Death Eaters. In return, he would receive some time off from his sentence in Azkaban. Draco wanted to scoff at the man, like time shaved off a life sentence would make a difference, but kept his mouth shut and nodded. He did as he was told, testified against Corban Yaxley, and was taken back to Azkaban. This would happen every few weeks, during the height of the Death Eater trials, and then it became every few months when there were fewer Death Eaters captured or the lesser-known ones that needed more preparation to face trial. Although testifying got him out of a cell for a few hours, he still hated going. 

It seemed it would be another day of answering questions and doing what he was told. Another few years of his life sentence knocked off for testifying against a rogue Death Eater. “Yes, I do recognize him.” “Yes, he did sit around my dining room table with the Dark Lord at the head.” “Yes, I did watch him torture and kill innocent people.” All while she sat there and watched him testify. It wasn’t seeing his former “colleagues” that upset him about these trips, and it wasn’t that the guards treated him as if he was the dirt in the bottom of their dragon-hide boots. It also wasn’t that his nightmares were always worse on those nights because he had to relive the horrors of the accused. It was seeing her sitting in the stands, looking at him curiously. She was always there and he had no idea why. Maybe she got off on the fact that he was stuck in Azkaban for the rest of his life and came to see him locked in a cage like an animal. Maybe she was there to gloat, although neither of those reasons seemed like her. But then again, he didn’t really know her. He was just the boy who called her names at school. He was just the man who willingly took a mark that branded him as a villain for the rest of his life.  He was just a man who couldn’t look her in the eye because he was too much of a coward. Perhaps she was able to sleep better at night knowing that the man whose home she had been tortured in was locked up for the rest of his life. He knew if the roles were reversed, that would make him feel safer. 

Draco pulled himself together as best as he could and waited by the cell door for the guards to come back and get him. When they did, they gave him some stale bread and then led him down to the apparition point where they then took him to the Ministry. Draco knew the routine by now and just did what he was expected to do. After the guards locked him in the holding cell and left, he finally let out the breath he had been holding and sat down on the floor, facing the door so he could see if anyone came in. He leaned back against the metal bars of the cell, which was more like a cage than he cared to admit to himself. He took a piece of the stale bread and placed it into his mouth, trying not to eat it too fast. 

He was halfway done with the bread when the door opened, and Draco stood up quickly, ready to be taken by a guard to the courtroom. Much to his surprise, it was not a guard who opened the door but Hermione Granger. 

“Malfoy,” she said, watching him and waiting for him to do something. Draco nodded at her and responded with a “Granger.”

“I’m sure you are surprised to see me. You are not here to testify today. You are here because I need to talk to you,” she told him and he raised an eyebrow, curious. “First, would you like some tea? I brought some biscuits too.” He wanted to sob. He hadn’t had either tea or biscuits in years and the thought of eating something more than stale bread or cold soup was practically making him drool. But he couldn’t be weak in front of her, so he politely nodded, feigning disinterest. 

“I know it isn’t much, but more than you would get in Azkaban. It’s nice to celebrate and I figured you hadn’t done so in years,” Granger said to him as she opened the tin of biscuits she had pulled out of a bag and held it out to him. He tried to think about what could be so important to celebrate, important enough that she would pull him out of Azkaban. She could see his puzzled expression so she clarified. “Today is your 23rd birthday.” His hand froze as he was reaching for a biscuit. His birthday? It was already June?

“You didn’t know,” Hermione said, having noticed his reaction. He slowly shook his head no, embarrassed that he did not know it was his birthday, and resumed picking out some biscuits from the tin, avoiding the fruity ones, and selecting the ones with chocolate. How was he supposed to keep track of time in Azkaban? 

She summoned a chair from the other side of the room and sat down, pulling out a thermos full of tea and some mugs from her bag. She poured the tea and handed him a mug. “I apologize, I don’t know how you like your tea,” she told him. 

“Not to worry,” he muttered, afraid that his voice would break if he spoke louder. He wrapped both hands around the mug and took a small sip. He hadn’t felt anything this warm in almost five years. He let out a shuddering breath and held the mug right under his face, letting the steam drift up and tickle him. He knew she was sitting and watching him, but he didn’t care. He had forgotten what anything other than cold felt like. He took another sip of the tea and felt the warmth move from his head, downwards as he swallowed and it settled into his stomach. He then held the mug in one hand and picked up one of the biscuits with the other. He took a small bite, worried that a big one would make him sick, and closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember a time when biscuits tasted so good. It was shortbread with a chocolate drizzle on top and he had to stop himself from shoving the couple he had grabbed into his face. After a few minutes of simply enjoying his birthday delights, he looked back up at her, ready for her to say what she needed to say.

“As you know, you have been testifying against Death Eaters for the past few years in exchange for time off your sentence to Azkaban. I have come to let you know that you will be free from that horrid prison in one week.” Draco was thankful he had not sipped the tea again because he would have surely spit it out. 

“What?” he asked, not believing what she was saying. One week left? That would mean he would only have spent five years? There was no way the Wizengamot would let that slide.

“I have been working for the Wizengamot Administration Services in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I made it my job to get you to testify in as many trials as I could. I was able to get you into enough that you essentially have no time left. In fact, the Wizengamot should owe you, but I figured that battle wasn’t worth fighting. They didn’t realize how many testimonies you gave until I wrote up the paperwork, and trust me, they weren’t happy, but they couldn’t ignore it, so ta-da!” She looked very proud of herself for all she had done, but he wasn’t happy.

“Why? Why would you do that for some Death Eater scum?” he asked, frustrated. “You’ve certainly ruined your career, whatever it might have been. What about your friends? I’m sure Potter and Weasley were ecstatic to hear that you have gotten me out of Azkaban. I’m sure they believed I got what was coming to me. What will the world think when they find out their precious Golden Girl got a war criminal out of jail, Draco Malfoy no less? You are mad Granger!” He took the mug with tea and threw it out of the holding cell. He instantly regretted it, having wanted to finish the tea, but he was annoyed and this was the only way he could show it. The mug clamored to the ground by her feet but she left it there. She was shocked, and for a brief second, she let her surprise show. But then it was gone and was replaced with determination.

“I’m not another one of your pity projects,” he yelled at her. “You can’t win me over with tea and biscuits! I’m not a house-elf in need of freedom. I’m not some caged animal.” But the irony was not wasted on him as he leaned back and felt the cold metal bars press against his skin. He looked at her, trying to muster as much hatred as he could into his stare, but just didn’t have the energy to do so. The yelling and frustration had drained him and now he was trying to catch his breath. He realized it was no use fighting when he was malnourished. “I got what I deserved. I didn't ask for your sympathy,” he said to her, this time more quietly and looked down and away from her.

She walked up to the barred cage he was in and released an exhausted but annoyed sigh. “I have no sympathy for you. I do, however, have empathy. I know what it’s like to be treated as less than you are. Mudblood, remember?” She pointed to herself and he flinched when she said the word, and he knew she had seen him. “I am here because you do deserve better. You are a human being and you aren’t even being treated as such. Your trial was a show of political power and it wasn’t fair. There wasn’t enough evidence to support such a harsh sentence. They only did it to make an example out of you and that is not right. I will be getting you out of here next week, whether you like it or not. You deserve to see the sun again. You deserve to know it is your birthday and celebrate it. You deserve a well rounded meal. You deserve your magic back. You deserve to be reunited with your mother.” He continued to look at the ground, thinking he might actually cry if he looked at her and he would not cry in front of Hermione Granger. “You only have a week left, so stay alive and have hope. This time next week, I will be back, and you will be a free man.” She took a step back, away from the jail cell he was in, preparing to leave. She picked up the mug he threw and placed it and its counterpart back into her bag. She took the biscuit tin with her too. She made her way towards the door. 

“Thank you Hermione,” he whispered, not sure if she could hear him. Her steps faltered a bit, but she continued to walk out, nodding to the guard who had slipped in when he heard yelling. The guard looked at Draco and left the room, leaving him alone to crumble to the floor and sob.

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #harry potter #caged animal #forever my otp #im proud of this

[ad1thi]

2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year. 

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long. 

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted 

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln 

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

--

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift:  @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

#adi's rec list #mcdanno #stevetony #buckytony #brucetony #rhodeytony #zukka #samtony #january - june #there's so many different ships on this #and different authors #and it spans three fandoms #so hopefully you guys enjoy this!!