#I’m lucky that my parents are somewhat better off than I am

[justbreakonme]

I love living in the United States. I definitely don’t feel trapped or helpless in the face of what could be very minor circumstances!

[rosielovesf1]

lucky 🍀 | AA23

alex debuts an... interesting... new hair for race weekend, and y/n is to blame after a little too much to drink

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none!

author's note: MY WRITER'S BLOCK IS CURED WOOHOO SO NOW TWO POSTS IN ONE NIGHT!!!! this season seems to be the anything can happen type, so i am crossing my fingers and toes to see alex on the podium at some point. anyway, this was literally so fun to write i hope you enjoy :))

“alright kids, you’re home.” george russell did not imagine this would be his friday night when he had left his home a long six hours earlier. if he’d known that he would be assigned the role of babysitter for his former teammate and his girlfriend, he maybe would’ve stayed home. or at least worn shoes that he liked a little less, as his favorite trainers were currently sporting a new, puce green stain. 

“thank youuuu, george,” y/n slurred, her eyes hazy and unfocused. her boyfriend didn’t look any better, practically putting all of his weight on poor y/n. she didn’t seem to mind though, one hand braced against the couch for balance, one hand wrapped around his waist to keep him upright. 

if only the world could see the wholesome “parents of the paddock” now, george thought. satisfied they were safe and taken care of, he shut the front door quietly behind him, grinning as he made his way to carmen who sat in the passenger seat of his car. now that y/n and alex were home, they’d likely sleep it off and stay out of trouble. right?

well… not quite. 

as george pulled out of the driveway, inside, alex and y/n had managed to remember that couches could be sat on, not just leaned up against. they collapsed onto the soft cushions, alex sighing contently as he pulled y/n to sit between his legs. she cuddled into his chest, craving warmth after what had been a very cold night out in a very tiny dress. 

just as y/n was starting to fall asleep, alex started to shift underneath her. she groaned and just wrapped her arms around him tighter. 

“love, i’m so thirsty.” 

y/n shook her head, trying to get back to the drowsy state she’d just left. “too comfy.” 

he poked her arm in response, and she ignored it best she could until it was unbearable. 

“stop it!”

“i need water,” he moaned dramatically, starting to unwrap his arms from around her.

“i’m thirsty too, but i’m being nice and not moving.” 

“you’re not being nice, you’re being lazyyy.” he drew out the last letter, and she turned her head only to stick out her tongue at him. 

“fine. i’ll take you with me.” y/n didn’t mind what he did, as long as she didn’t have to walk or do anything other than shut her eyes tight against the blurriness that came with a few (okay, a lot) too many shots of vodka. alex pushed himself off the couch, and y/n wrapped her limbs around him tightly until he safely deposited her to sit on the kitchen counter. 

there was the sound of the cabinet door opening and closing, and the gurgle of the tap broke through the otherwise silent apartment. 

“i can hear you gulping.” y/n said, eyes still squeezed shut. “share please.” 

the three glasses of water each they downed helped somewhat- y/n’s stomach had settled and her head was spinning less, but now she just had the lack of inhibition and craving for spontaneity that alcohol fostered. 

from her perch on the counter, she could sit with her legs wrapped around alex’s torso, his head relaxing back into her chest as he stood with his back to her. she ran her fingers gently through his hair, smiling as an idea formed. 

“when’s the last time you dyed your hair, love?”

“mmm. it’s been a while. last year, maybe?”

y/n felt a rush of excitement, but tread carefully to avoid spooking her poor unsuspecting boyfriend. 

“what if you let me dye it?” 

his posture became a little less relaxed, a little more alert. uh oh. say yes. she chanted silently in her head. say yes, say yes, say yes. 

“have you ever dyed hair before?” not a full yes, but this was good. it wasn’t a no. there was still a possibility. 

“i did rina’s hair just last month.” sure, your sister changed her hair so often that she had simply laughed at your botched dye job, rocking the streaky blue until she was able to get into a proper salon the next week. but experience was experience. he hadn’t asked about the outcome. 

“okay.”

“okay?” you squealed and planted a kiss on his cheek, wrapping your arms underneath his chin and resting your head on top of his. he just laughed, relaxing even more into your embrace if that was even possible. 

“alright, come on, i think i have dye under the sink.” 

“wait, now? i was thinking next week after the race, love.” but you didn’t want to wait that long, you wanted to do something fun now, while the world looked a little brighter than usual and you could practically feel the blood pumping through your veins. you decided to test your luck and hopped down from the counter, pulling him along towards the small hall bathroom, grinning when he just followed along. 

alex sat down on the toilet lid while you rummaged through the messy sink cabinet, finally finding what you’d desperately hoped was still there in the back corner- bleach, and the remnants of a dye kit you’d bought when your sister had encouraged you to try red hair (spoiler alert, it was a very bad idea). there definitely wouldn’t be enough red dye to do alex’s entire head though, and you frowned as you tried to work out a solution. 

suddenly, the perfect idea struck. after mixing the dyes, you happily got to work. alex was content to just relax into the pressure of your fingers in his hair, and before you knew it, your masterpiece was complete. after a quick rinse, and a change into comfier, cleaner clothes for both of you, you fell into bed. there was only time for a quick goodnight kiss, and by the time your head hit the pillow, you had practically already fallen into a deep sleep. 

which is why, when you woke up the next morning, cursing the bright sunlight of the gorgeous fall morning, the previous night wasn’t totally clear at first. you cringed at the memory of puking into the dirty club bathroom, but there was nothing hideously embarrassing up until george bringing you and alex home. however, at the thought of what your drunken brain had thought was a good idea once the two of you were left to your own devices, you shot up in bed, staring in horror at the sleeping boy next to you. 

alex’s hair. dear god. you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips, and then cursed yourself as all the movement and noise had alex stirring in bed. he smiled up at you with sleepy eyes, getting halfway through “good morning” before clocking your expression. 

“what?” he sat up in bed, sheets sliding down as his worry increased. “y/n, what’s wrong?” 

“alex, love, i’m so sorry.” it was all you could do but apologize, and alex looked confused until he spotted himself in the mirror hanging to the right of your bed. 

his jaw dropped as he turned his head left and right. you just winced, apologizing over and over. but you stopped mid sentence when his look of shock turned into a grin, and then a full blown, stomach-hurting laugh. he dropped his head into his hands, shoulders shaking. 

you couldn’t help it- that type of laugh was infectious. 

“i’m so sorry, love,” you groaned between giggles, leaning into alex’s shoulder. “i don’t know what i was thinking.” 

it took him a couple seconds to get back the breath to reply, but when he did it was clear that there was nothing but amusement in the situation. 

“don’t be sorry, y/n,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and squeezed tight. “i’m surprised we didn’t do worse with how plastered we were last night.” 

“remind me that shots are very, very bad the next time we go out, please.” the dull throb in her temples was her body’s way of agreeing with that statement. in a serious tone, she looked up at him, determined to fix the situation. “i’ll find you an appointment at a salon before the race, i promise.” 

“are you kidding?” he turned to look at himself again in the mirror, running a hand over his hair. “i’m definitely going to get bullied by the grid, but this can only be good luck.” 

and despite your protests and offers to fix it, he remains resolute in having the absolutely horrid dye job for the entirety of the race weekend. and when he manages to achieve the practically impossible- a podium in a williams- after crediting the team’s immense efforts, it isn’t his stellar driving that he wants to discuss in post-race interviews. no, he attributes his success to his new hair, which he makes sure to emphasize was done by his lovely girlfriend. 

even though your drunken mistake is now a very popular topic of conversation in the f1 world, you can’t help but feel any emotion besides all-consuming pride.

@alex_albon: best weekend ever. biggest thanks to the team, and my new barber @ y/n-l/n for the lucky hair

@y/n-l/n: HE DID IT!!!!!!!! endlessly proud of you AA23 <3

[skylarmoon71]

Winchester - (Supernatural / Smallville Crossover AU) - Chapter 8

~Two Years Ago~

“You hunters never learn, did you really think you could stop me? I caught your scent back at that police station. A high school internship, really? That was your cover?” 

The ghoul now taunting you should be evidence enough that you’ve messed up. 

You’re chained to the concrete of one of the grave stones, seated and disgruntled. At night it’s like the perfect cover, no one will come looking. 

You got reckless. You should have realized this before. You knew that Ghouls took the form of their last victims. When that missing boy just showed up after being gone for two days you should have picked up on it. Your plan was to head back to interview said boy, right after you stopped back at the cemetery to look over some of the other busted graves. 

That’s sort of how you got snagged. 

“You threw me off, usually ghouls stick to dead bodies.” 

Despite the bounds around your shoulder, you know if you can distract it long enough, you can swipe the blade that’s lying within distance. Your fingers are merely inches away. 

“Well, I wanted an upgrade, besides little Johnny here is the perfect cover. One weepy story to the parents and they’ll let me do what I want for a while. When I get tired of the nagging I’ll just eat them too and move along the chain. It was perfect until you came snooping around. Meddling kid.” 

Your fingers brush the hilt of the blade and you laugh, despite the throbbing in your head from the blow he’d delivered. 

“Really, meddling kid, what is this Scooby Doo? You monsters are getting more pathetic by the day.” 

The last comment makes him glare. 

“Let’s see how pathetic I am when I’m sucking the blood right out of your body.” 

Panic is starting to set in, your eyes harden. 

“Release her.” 

The new voice is foreign and you lift your gaze. 

You can’t put into words what you’re seeing, because it can’t be possible. You can see a guy, he couldn’t be much older than you. You blink, and you swear you’re hallucinating. His figure looks like a mass of energy, light, it’s an off blue glimmer and on his shoulders are…

“Wings…” You mumble. 

The ghoul looks between you and him, a grin growing on its face. 

“Looks like I got the two for one special, I guess I can pig out.” 

“You better run.” Your warning just makes the smile on its face wider. 

“You really think I’ll let my meal get away?” 

Your gaze turns to the ghoul. 

“I’m talking to you.” 

It looks at you in disbelief before it bursts out laughing. You can fully understand the hysterics. Despite your calmness you’re freaking out, because the glow you once saw has disappeared, and he looks completely human now. You know for a fact that you didn’t just imagine it. 

You’re just praying that you’re not getting away from one monster to be taken by the next. With the blade now in your grasp, you're sliding it frantically to free yourself. If you’re lucky that thing will kill the ghoul while you make a break for it.

“Really, you’re hilarious, almost had me going.” It’s collecting itself and you can feel just one string of rope left of your restraints. The guy is still just standing there, unbothered. 

“I will not ask you again.” 

His voice gives off an authority that is somewhat chilling. The only time you speak like that is when you hold power. You know for a fact the ghoul can’t see what you do, otherwise it would have been running for the hills ages ago. 

“Listen here you walking piece of meat, you think you can walk up in here and make demands. I’ll gut you like a-” 

You blink and he’s standing right in front of it, all he does is place his hand on its forehead and the ghoul is screaming. You stare in shock as its body lights up and the sockets of its eyes are burned out. You finally free yourself and without a second thought you take off in a sprint in the opposite direction. You don’t even bother to look back. 

That’s why when his body just appears ahead of you, you stumble, making another quick turn around, but he’s right in front of you in seconds and you all but freeze. Your heart is racing, because he just roasted that ghoul like it was child’s play, you can only imagine what he’ll do to you. 

Your night has really gone straight to the toilet. 

“Listen you lightning bolt son of a bitch, you really don’t want to have a showdown with me.” 

It’s an empty threat, you dropped your silver blade a while back and this thing is obviously on a whole other level than your usual hunts. 

“I’m not going to harm you.” 

“Sorry if I don’t believe you.” 

You’re still glaring. Your wrist hurts, you glance down, taking in the blood that’s dripping from the top of your palm. You must have nicked it when you were trying to get free. The adrenaline had completely blocked it out. Schooling your features, he looks down at the wound. He takes a step and you respond immediately, firing a punch. 

He catches it easily, you’re stunned at his strength. You try your luck with a kick, but he stops that too. Now you’re hobbling on one leg and he’s gripping your wounded hand. You wince against your will, and he seems to register your pain. His thumb brushes over the wound and you're surprised when it seems to just disappear. Not just the wound, but the blood, the pain, everything. He lets go and you stagger back, staring in surprise. 

This shouldn’t be possible. Even witches took at least a spell to mend injuries, he barely blinked. 

The better question is, why help you?

You were convinced that he was going to barbeque you like that ghoul, yet there's nothing threatening about his stance, at least not towards you. 

“W-Who the hell are you..” 

More like what, he’s definitely a what.

“I am the archangel, Michael.” 

Of course he is.

[fandomsoda]

I am. So tired of being a modern day youth.

Everything is taking a turn for the worst. There’s wars, genocides, injustice, people losing their rights, everything. That has always been a thing, this is absolutely nothing new and I am not going to act like it is anything new. It’s all too familiar and built into this fucked up system. It’s a feature, not a bug. But there’s an uptick in things now and a lot of other factors make it feel like these things are building up to something. And they are.

We are reaching the tipping point where it will just be revolution or die, basically. And we have no idea what that revolution is going to look like. We have no idea what we will lose, what we will have to be prepared for. Other than societal collapse, of course. Because it’s been made clear that the people in power would rather kill us all than ever throw us a proper bone. People are working 3 jobs and unable to afford rent, do you understand how sick that fucking is?

And it’s not like our parents care, they don’t care, they’re either neutral or in favor of this shit and those who do care are in the minority. Most of us are still just children. But now it’s almost only the children and young adults who have the power to stop this mess. I am expected to go through school, continue my day-to-day while innocent civilians are being bombed and the world is on the verge of societal collapse. The earth is dying too. It’s… awful.

and let me be VERY clear: hope is not lost. Do not be a doomer. There is still time and opportunity and space to enact change. We can do this. But…it also won’t be easy. I have no money, school eats up all of my time, I cannot go out and do things or organize or protest, nor do I even have the proper rights to do so because kids are not seen as full human beings under the law or society itself. Getting a job feels unattainable due to my disabilities. And… I’m also not physically nor mentally capable of handling the harsh conditions that will accompany this revolution. I know that fighting and standing up is the right thing to do, and thus I will do it if I have to, but it will not be easy and damn am I scared.

And with this fear, this mental incapacity, I’ve been dissociating and losing myself in media and fiction and reality is blending with unreality and my brain is just desperately trying to keep me sane and somewhat happy and in the process making me feel like everything around me is a construct of my own mind, and while I try my best to do what I can to aid the real world, I am struggling with whether it is real or not.

And I’m… lucky, honestly. I’m very privileged, I am very well off, I have a stable home and food and everything. And therefore my suffering is nothing in comparison to those actually experiencing the brutality. And at the same time it’s still torture to be trapped up in this ivory tower when I want to be out there helping and fighting and doing what’s right. I want so badly to do the right thing, to help people, to use my privilege for good, but I am physically unable to as I can’t go anywhere but home and school nowadays. And I wish that earning a better tomorrow was easy, but it’s not.

Hope is not lost, but the path to greatness is not pretty. And I love humanity, but damn I hate the world we live in right now. And I have it pretty good, but damn, I am tired. And I can only imagine how tired the people who are actually struggling are. They are the ones who matter here at the end of the day. Not me.

[uyuforu]

Hii! How are you? I would like to start off with the fact that I’m going off about my intuition, so feel free to correct me if I am wrong. So for your groom, I feel like this person is a green flag who cosplays as red flag if that makes any sense. He might be really charming but selfish at the same time. Maybe weirdly obsessive too. I’ll tell you this, definitely has the face card, knows he got the face card, fierce eyes. I’m really getting this a lot.

I think might have a hurt inner child? Something about that is coming across. Maybe commitment issues stemmed of whatever might have happened then? Umm kind of a player but once he is sure that he has found his place, his person, he’ll be really prideful of it. Will definitely be a good parent if you guys have offspring’s in the future. But he needs to heal before any of this. Oh and somewhat of a people pleaser. He cares a lot more about the opinions of his friends and family than he lets on. He might be into formal wears and a bit of a narcissist.

Oh and I forgot. He definitely is into some kind of sports or fitness stuff. And substance too. Maybe smokes or drinks? Could be very self sacrificing, the type of person that sheds a light on everyone else but himself? But he really needs to get better coping mechanisms than what he’s used to right now. I’m getting a whole lot of that energy. It’s kinda dizzy. Goodluck with your person because as worth it is to be with this person, I have a feeling this will be really draining in the early stages, at least not until you guys resolve the issues. Here’s your mood board. It’s fascinating to say the least.

Here are my Juno and groom persona charts.

Thank you so much for doing this! 🩷🩷

GAME IS CLOSED. Thank you for participating to the game. Here is your reading. Also thank you for the moodboard. You were also pretty right in your description, so you have a good intuition!

જ⁀➴ Could meet FS as a transformative experience, could be at a time things are changing in your life deeply. You could meet at night, or in a secret place, or in a place where they aren't a lot of people. Could also be something related to s3x when you meet. Intense connection from the start, meeting and having a sort of love at first sight. Really attracted to each other. Could meet with friends or online. Could meet them in foreign lands, or college. There could be something divine, or destined about your meeting. Could be also a lot of flirting when you meet.

જ⁀➴ FS could have deep eyes, dark hair, or just intense gaze, could be very handsome too. They could have a glow up when you meet them.

જ⁀➴ FS could have had some hardships with their appearance, problems with their weight or how they look like. They are not confident in themselves even if it looks like they do.

જ⁀➴ FS can love shopping, or just love to treat themselves.

જ⁀➴ FS could have a lot of luck in relationships.

જ⁀➴ FS could be very close to their mother, could love their family, and could also love to spend time at home.

જ⁀➴ Could have had some health issues.

જ⁀➴ FS could like to sing

જ⁀➴ FS could be very present on social medias, but also love to study, FS could also work online, or with technologies.

જ⁀➴ FS is veryyyy romantic.

જ⁀➴ FS could look very sweet, or just look younger than their real age.

જ⁀➴ FS can be introvert for sure.

જ⁀➴ FS could have always be lucky when it comes to money.

જ⁀➴ FS could also be pretty intense when they are in love.

જ⁀➴ FS could have dated friends before, and they could have think they were in love but it was just an illusion. Perhaps can have a lot of misconceptions about what romance is. FS can also be in love with love.

જ⁀➴ FS can work with you at some point. But they can also have a lot of respect for you in general.

Potential placements of FS:

𝜗𝜚 Scorpio/ 8H

𝜗𝜚 Cancer/ 4H

𝜗𝜚 Aquarius/ 11H

𝜗𝜚 Gemini/ 3H

𝜗𝜚 Virgo/ 6H

𝜗𝜚 Aries/ 1H

𝜗𝜚 Sagittarius/ 9H

𝜗𝜚 Leo/ 5H

𝜗𝜚 Pisces/ 12H

𝜗𝜚 Capricorn/ 10H

𝜗𝜚 Taurus/ 2H (lol sorry but your FS has a lot of diverse signs and placements)

𝜗𝜚 Water or Earth rising

𝜗𝜚 Venus/ Jupiter/ Saturn/ Neptune 1H or rising ruled by those planets.

𝜗𝜚 Water Moon possibility.

If you enjoyed the reading you can post a review about it or tell me what you think. Have a nice day!

Thank you for reading!

back to index ; ask ; request ; rules

[solarianvoidthearoace]

I did taekwondo from ages 10 to 15 and 17 to 19 (Thai boxing from 15-19), then picked it back up at 21 and dropped it even before Corona. I did give Jeet Kune Do a try and would have probably started it if not for scheduling problems.

I want to get back into martial arts but last time I dropped out of the club because I couldn’t justify the 40€/ month to myself. I was deeply depressed and anxious. I was jumpy and got anxiety attacks during training more than once which was when I decided to skip training more and more often.

As I said in previous posts, I have always had joint pains and problems with endurance. Even during my training days. Even when I had school sports 135 minutes plus 2h of martial arts training a week. Which is one more reason I feel the need to get back into sports.

And I like martial arts. (I actually found an old FB post stating how much I felt “like a kickboxer at heart”)

Martial arts is not just workout but something practical, in my opinion. Because self-defense and body-assertiveness is important.

I have a hard time connecting with (groups of) people because of my AuDHD among other things, so joining group settings is stressful already, which is amplified by my RSD, SAD and AvPD. (I’m a bundle of anxiety disorders in a trench coat.)

But putting the psychological stress aside, I worry I can’t. I have been splinting my wrist on-and-off for going on 14 weeks now. And that’s just the bad wrist, right now I have the other one also in a splint. Then my knees, I actually have a chronic knee injury from the martial arts/ sports I did as a kid. Both my knees are somewhat prone to pain. I’m not unsteady per se (leaving my circulation out of it for the moment) but my knees are not in pristine condition.

So to count of my joint issues (highest severity to lowest): left wrist, left knee, right knee, right wrist, elbows, hip, shoulders, right ankle.

On top of my joints I also deal with an unknown orthostatic dysfunction; although last time I did a clinical I didn’t have overly high blood pressure, it was the high end of the “normal” range. The thing with my chronic headaches stopped in 2022 after 1.5 years, now it’s just occasional headaches and migraines.

I used to do Thai kick-boxing, damn it. And currently I can’t even knead pizza dough or hold up a wok/ pot for an extended period of time because my wrist(s) just won’t let me.

I was always a bit sturdy, even when I didn’t weight 98kg at 178cm. (Used to be 72kg way back when but I also had an eating disorder then sooooo-)

I would like to get back into TKD, give JKD a proper try and maybe try out some kung-fu variant (not WT though)

It currently looks very much like I have rheumatism, orthostatic intolerance, probably dysautonomia, chronic back pain and various joint pains. So I don’t really see hope of me ever getting into martial arts again. At least not into contact martial arts like I was used to.

For a huge chunk of my life so far I did martial arts and now I haven’t done any sport since before Corona, initially because my mental illness was just so overwhelming and I was severely depressed, deeply anxious and close to broken with those. I think that’ll be way better now since I moved away from my emotionally abusive parents and am taking antidepressants/ anti anxiety medication. But other these last years my joints got worse and worse so I don’t think I have much of a chance to pick martial arts back up now because I would prefer a contact sport or at least go to town with my boxing bag again.

I feel like, if I’m lucky, I can take up swing dancing or pole dance at some point. Probably after rehab training to get even a minimal amount of endurance and strength endurance back.

And not to get melancholic or anything but looking back, sifting through my old FB posts from 2018, that feels like a different person. That person was still calling emself a girl, that person was overwhelmed with ens mental health, that person was pretty much fending for emself. I genuinely forgot who en was, who I was just a few years back. I feel weird looking back at ens, at my, posts so focused on martial arts. So passionate when I know I was in the deepest dredges of depression back then.

Hell, I even found the tumblr screenshots I posted to FB of me asking people for advice how to approach mental illness in martial arts. The posts about body image, the posts that encourage people to do sports at all, to start small.

And now here I sit, both hands splinted, knee in a support bandage, wearing compression stockings and looking at my offset cane I probably need for walks that exceed a 2h round trip. (I haven’t taken any long walks in almost a year - due to lack of walking partners and motivation - when walking for 5h straight with no sitting down used to be laughably easy.)

I don’t hate that I’m disabled. Hell, I’m the guy who feels bad or not disabled enough because even if there is a permanent cure I would rather just cope with what I have. Because coping is more comfortable than major life changes and I don’t want a cure (if there was one, presumably).

This did start out as a shower thought, actually, about how I should get back into sports and how martial arts would be my first choice. Which then, consequently, lead to me tossing the thought about official diagnosis around. Because so far I only have several dysfunctional joints with joint pain no further specified. Which isn’t great but I also don’t really have spoons or access to a doctor/ general practitioner for the time being.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

the antarctic idiots [pt.1] - c! technoblade

summary; in which two anarchist piglins adopt an ender boy.

genre; child! ranboo, piglin hybrid! reader, slight canon divergence from dream smp, fluff, found family au is my shit, reader is now ranboo’s parent i don’t make the rules, techno is a grumpy father but it’s okay you love him, realistic minecraft? (idk how to describe it-)

pairing; c! technoblade x reader, platonic! ranboo x reader

word count; 1.5k

a/n; fuck it, it is here now. here’s the techno x reader you fucking simps. i can’t even be mad bc i too am a simp for the anarchist pig that is technoblade. 

i hope this is somewhat up to par with everyone’s expectations since i hyped this up so much. this is one of the few writings that i actually like so- i couldn’t resist waiting so long to post it AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

next >

now you never really expected to find yourself on a side of history that was deemed "the villain's side", especially when the villain wasn't even that bad.

okay, that's a bit of a lie. this piglin man blew up an entire country to end government. plus he has evaded his taxes. i mean the list goes on but that's not the entire point here.

the point is, you found yourself actually being friends (even going as far as housemates) with the so-called evil anarchist.

now we might be moving too fast here, so let's move it back a little bit.

"so you want me to join pogtopia?" you looked up, shutting the book in your hand as you leaned back on your chair. "and what would i get in return exactly?"

"...our friendship won't die?" the voice of wilbur soot rings in your quiet home, unsure and nervous at your stern aura and words.

"why can't you just help us?!" tommy flared up, nearly throwing a fit if not for his older brother holding him back.

"just because i am your friend, does not mean i am interested in fighting for your conflicts." you place the book on the small side table, adjusting your gloves while you explain yourself to the two boys, "i'm not saying i'm a pacifist, but i'm not here to fight. i live far away for a reason. i told you this before."

"can i call in that favor then?" wilbur asked. "you still owe me one." you huffed at his words. you saw this coming.

"you're lucky i'm a nice person most of the time." you sighed, standing up and nearly towering over the two boys if not for wilbur being a bit taller than you. "i will get my stuff packed, and then we can get to your pogtopia. but while i do that, please explain the whole situation." since you lived so far away from society, you didn't know too much about what was happening unless wilbur told you about it and wilbur never really talked to you too often.

"well, you know how we had l'manburg.." and then he starts to explain how that completely backfired on them because they lost the election and now they lost their country. "and now we want to fight back for l'manburg." wilbur finishes explaining as you put your old netherite sword in its sheath that hung on your waist. "we just need your help. are you willing to train us?"

"it's not like i have much of a choice since you're cashing in that favor." you pointed out. "i better not be staying for too long."

"i can't make any promises about that." you sighed. "you ready?"

"unfortunately." it was time to leave your home and face violence once again.

"if it makes you feel any better, you're not the only person we've asked to help us." tommy says in an attempt to get you out of your bitter mood.

"that made me feel worse, tommy. i think you guys would've been fine without me if you have another person helping you other than tubbo." you slung your bag over your shoulder. "but if you really insist on getting the help of me, then who am i to judge?"

"since it seems like you're ready now, let's go to pogtopia!" tommy said, ignoring most of your words of complaints as he starts to drag you by the arm towards the dream smp. "it's quite the walk from here. why do you live so far from everyone? don't you get lonely? why didn't you join l'manburg with me and will?"

"slow down with the questions, tommy. first of all, i've told you and wilbur why i live far away, you did not listen though." you pressed a finger on his forehead, earning a huff of annoyance from the blonde. you moved your hand back to your side. "i simply do not like people. also why get pulled into conflict that you never were apart of to begin with? but that's pretty hypocritical of me to say now."

"i get that you're not fond of people, but aren't you lonely out here?" you three walked into the portal that would take you right into the nether. the sounds of bubbling lava and squealing pigmen was always an oddly comforting sound to hear.

"i'm perfectly content in my house. even if it's very far from others. i'm happy." you answered though your words sounded so... monotonous. tommy gave you a look, he definitely didn't believe you. "i know i don't sound happy but i am." before you knew it, you made it to the other nether portal which would actually take you to the manburg and pogtopia. oh how you didn't miss this place at all.

you never liked how manburg was ran even before shlatt was elected. you never really like government in general. it always seemed to be ruining everything. freedom never felt like freedom, at least that's what you thought especially when there was a goverment.

"welcome to pogtopia!" you were so deep in your own thoughts that you hadn't realized that you had made it to pogtopia.

"so where is your other helper? the first choice that wasn't me?" you asked.

"i think he might be here. he's been staying up for a long time. ever since he got in here." wilbur said. "technoblade? you here?" wilbur leads you to a potato farm and you soon feel a sense of familiarity as you enter the room.

"yeah." a low huff is heard, causing you and wilbur to turn your heads toward the source of the sound. "i'm here." what immediately catches your attention is the crown messily placed on his head as he farms. as a piglin, you've always been fond of gold, that adoration never left you once you went to the overworld. you never really wore a crown but you wore a gold pendant instead that was pinned to your cape.

"you have a really pretty crown." it takes you a minute to realize that those words came out of your mouth. "fuck, i didn't mean to say that out loud." you explained quickly to the male that was farming. "piglin things." you muttered.

"a very unexpected compliment. understandable." techno said. "wilbur, who is this again? have i met them?"

"well, you'd think you know each other since you're both piglins, but i guess the world is bigger than i thought. well, technoblade, meet y/n, y/n, meet technoblade."

"i call him the blade." tommy said smugly. "the blade! how's the potato planting doing?"

"it's doing fine. i didn't expect any company to come though."

"well, this is the person that we wanted to recruit for pogtopia."

"nice to meet you, even if the circumstances aren't the best. wilbur is lucky i owe him a favor." you said. "i sort of expected meeting you since tommy and wilbur mentioned you once they came to get me. i just never expected to see another piglin here in the overworld."

"never expected to see another piglin here either." techno hummed slightly.

maybe staying in pogtopia won't be too bad. at least you made a friend?

that was sort of a lie. you and techno never really talked after the encounter. it never worried you, you’re not one for conversation right now anyways. you had a mission to do and you’re gonna do it. you didn’t have time to make friends, at least that’s what you thought. friends seemed to be temporary in the smp, considering the wars that were and have happened.

you weren’t going to make another friend, knowing that you just might get pulled into their fights.

“why did you stop fighting once you left l’manburg?” wilbur’s voice rings in the small fighting pit that was made for training.

“i simply didn’t find the need to fight. it doesn’t mean i’m any weaker though. i will still fight for what i want to fight for.” and that’s gonna be really ending this whole government. you think to yourself, letting the nighttime ambience fill the air.

“you still have your lives...right?” you show him your wrist which had 3 hearts tattooed on it. 

“i’ve been living away from everyone, of course i won’t die that easily.” you let out an empty laugh. “bold of you to assume i would even die.”

“i know it’s ridiculous to even think that you would lose a life after you left l’manburg but what if dream were to chase you down and kill you?”

“i understand your worry, but need not to worry, i can handle myself. if i couldn’t you guys would never even assign me as cavalry captain those years ago.” you said, unbuttoning your gold pendant to place it on the stone cold floor along with your other accessories you had. “it’s not like dream can do too much to me. we made a deal after all.”

“a deal?” wilbur raised an eyebrow as he took off his jacket, tossing it on the ground.

“don’t be too concerned. i’m not like eret. i wouldn’t betray you.”

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[promithiae]

How I, a person with ADHD, manage to keep a vaguely tidy house

Let me first clarify that I recognize that I am very lucky to only be working 4 days a week, and having a 3 day weekend is a big part of why I can actually be somewhat consistent. I am very privileged to have a living situation where that is possible, and I know not everyone has that.

However, this was a pattern that started when I was working more hours and more days and none of my days off were clustered together and it sucked, but I still kind of sort of managed to keep it up most of the time.

Vaguely tidy is being generous.

Ok. Caveats done, let's get to it

First and foremost shoot the voice in your head that tells you it's all or nothing, the coach or the teacher or the parent or whoever you hear that says there's no point in doing a thing if you're going to half ass it. They don't know what the fuck they're taking about. Half assing is better than no assing.

Figure out what your bare minimum is. If you don't have the energy or focus or the executive sure is dysfunctioning, what do you absolutely have to get done on a weekly basis? They should be very, very bare bones and minimal. (For me, I have to get my laundry cleaned but not necessarily folded and put away and at least vacuuming the floors, if not mopping them. 2 items, that's it.)

Figure out the things that should be done every week. Accept that sometimes that list isn't getting completed. But like I said, that's better than nothing. It's ok, I promise. Do what you can, try to do more, but if you can't that's ok too.

Figure out a list of things that only need to be done on occasion, maybe once a month or every 6 weeks. Try to do 1 of these every week

Make a list of super detailed weird things for those days when you're hyperfocusing and you are absolutely in the mood to take a q-tip to the weird corners on the cupboard panels or shove a cloth on a stick under the stove to get all the trapped cat hair out.

Keep a detailed list of steps. I know that one of the things I have trouble with is getting overwhelmed because I don't know where to start. So I have a doc that has all the things I need to do, the steps that they involve and the order in which to do them. It's kind of a flow chart where the once a month things are added in. It's also very detailed because some days are just 14 steps to make coffee kind of days. Sit down with a freind or your mom or your favorite uncle and have them help you strategize if you need to. There's no shame in asking for help, I promise!

Pick a day of the week to be chore day. I've tried doing 15 minutes a day, I've tried doing 1 room a day, I've tried a lot of different things and none of them stuck except just making Sunday chore day. I think it's because my levels of energy and focus and executive function can be so variable that it's impossible to be that consistent on a day to day basis, but ymmv. Try different things, figure out what works for you.

Allow for the entire day to be chore day because we're building in distraction. When you finish a task go ahead and take a break. It can be 2 minutes or 2 hours, it doesn't matter so long as you have enough time to do the bare minimum list. Have a snack, dick around on tumblr, watch a movie, whatever. End your break whenever you feel like you're ready to do the next task. No one's timing you.

Getting overwhelmed? The other week I put a freind on videochat and she hung out with me while I cleaned. Mostly she played videogames while I was doing my thing, but we chatted here and there, and when I got overwhelmed I was able to ask her what I should do next and turned my computer to the scene and she gave me a direction to go. It was actually really nice to have company! And to have someone else make a decision for me, because that's where I get the most hung up. Like, give me a task and I will do the thing until I'm done, but ask me to come up with the tasks and steps for it? Hahahahahahhahaaaaaa oh no.

That's mostly what I've been doing for the past year and I've been pretty consistent. There are still many weeks I only do the bare minimum list, and there are still many weeks I don't get to all the things on my weekly list, but that's ok. Partial credit is good, too.

Now, if anyone has any strategies on remembering to put things away I am severely lacking there.

[ariadne-does-her-best]

Love in G Major

Dick Grayson x Reader One-Shot; Soulmate!Au

Word Count: 2,500+

Warnings: Kidnapping but nothing graphic happens

Author’s Note: Hey guys! This is my first time posting a fic so characters may be a little OOC. Please let me know if you guys liked this and if you want to, feel free to send a request! Also, I might make a series of Soulmate! Aus since I have a good idea for Jasons thought out. xo, Ariadne

Summary: In a world where everyone has a soulmate, you’re one of the lucky ones to receive a physical sign of your soulmate in the form of a timer counting down to when you’ll meet. But after being kidnapped by the Riddler, hours before you’re supposed to meet them, you can only pray that the Riddler of all people isn’t your soulmate.

Five hours.

You swayed to the rich sound of your cello, eyes closed, as you shifted your hand down into fourth position. You rested for a beat before going down bow, still doing vibrato even after the piece was done. The audience waited for a sign that you were done with the piece, be it that your hand stopped moving or you physically stood up and told them to clap. Instead, you opened your eyes and smiled as the diners took their cue to start clapping before inclining your head in thanks as you waited for the applause to die down.

It was a normal Saturday at the small but expensive Italian restaurant you performed at. You weren’t supposed to be there since you had requested to take today off but the owner had still put you down to play during half of the two-hour live performance time slot. At the end of the day, money was money and who were you to ever say no to the thousands you always received in tips. After all, you could only think about the new bow you could buy with the money. Which would lead to you sounding better, getting more gigs, and making more money. The process was like a cycle, really.

After the applause stopped and those who were up putting money in your jar had sat down in their seats, you sat back down and started playing Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1, Prelude. You could hear the pianist who was supposed to take over for the rest of the night setting up, his hands flipping through his many copies of sheet music.

Aside from the sounds of cutlery and the wisps of conversation, there was not much noise other than the smooth sound of your cello. But even if there were no noises, something still bothered you.

At first, it wasn’t that bad. You could feel someone staring at you, which was normal since you were performing on a stage with your whole being on display, but it was longer and more intense than normal. Letting your eyes wander around the crowded restaurant, your eyes locked onto a pair of green eyes. You smiled slightly at the young girl before wincing as the slight burning of your wrist got worse. You continued playing, closing your eyes as you tried to ignore the burning of your timer. Your soulmate timer.

You were one of the lucky individuals who had a visible connection to their soulmate. Instead of feeling a spark whenever you touch your soulmate, like your neighbors do, or being able to finally see color when you touch your soulmate, like your parents, you were one of the few lucky ones who could count down to the precise moment when you would meet your soulmate. And that was exactly what you did. When you were thirteen and your parents had explained your soulmate mark to you, the first thing you did was calculate when you would meet your soulmate according to your timer and write it down in your diary.

It was impossible for you to ignore the burning on your wrist, impossible for you to not grin as you played. But your grin was wiped off when you heard glass shatter and a scream.

Four hours.

You had no idea where you were but judging by the smell of the place and the fact that two men wearing green suits with question marks were staring at you, you were not at the restaurant.

‘At least I still have my cello,’ you thought as you pulled against the ropes that tied you against a pillar. The henchmen were talking between themselves as they approached the pillar where you were tied. They started untying you from the pillar and you took this opportunity to suddenly stand up and run.

You heard one of the henchmen curse but you ran in random zigzag lines towards where the door was. It was weird that the henchmen didn’t shoot at you or even attempt to stop you. But you ignored the niggling in the back of your mind. Wrenching the door open, you looked back at where your cello lay and turned back around to walk towards your freedom.

Except it wasn’t your freedom, it was the Riddler in his forest green suit and bowler combo. A rather tacky-looking combo in your opinion but hey, you weren’t going to be the one to break the news to a murderous criminal. He looked up at your sudden entrance and smiled.

“Here she is,” he said, yanking you into the room where the guests of the restaurant were tied onto the seats of an auditorium. You shivered as the cold air hit you and you looked around the room, taking in the TV production set up and the large stage that covered up more than half of the room there.

The Riddler dragged you up onto the stage, and you couldn’t help but wince as the harsh lights burned your eyes.

“What am I doing on stage,” you asked the Riddler as you covered your eyes with your hands. The Riddler’s smile became somehow larger, looking rather comical for a second before becoming more uncomfortable to look at. “Riddle me this,” the Riddler started as he pushed you down onto a chair, “what is it that cannot open any locks and yet has 24 keys?”

Your eyes furrowed in confusion as you rubbed at your wrist, the burning sensation somehow getting worse.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled as a minute passed.

“Well, if you don’t know, why don’t we give you a little motivation to figure out the right answer?”

And with that, the Riddler drew out a gun and pointed it at the closest person seated at the stage, the pianist. At this point, you could hear the sobs wracking through his body and you thought about his elderly parents who depended on him to pay for their surgeries. You don’t know how you could live with his blood on your hands.

“Wait, I have the answer,” you cried out, reaching out to grab the Riddler’s elbow but stopping. Something told you that that wouldn’t be a good idea and he might take that opportunity to shoot you.

“Well, do go on.”

“It’s music,” you said, staring at the deranged man’s face. He broke into peals of laughter, clapping his hands, as he tried to settle himself. It was unnerving how he could flip the switch easily from being a man ready to kill another to laughing as if you were the funniest person on Earth.

“That’s correct. And with that, let us start the games.”

Three hours.

After asking you his initial riddle, the Riddler had quickly set up a broadcast to be shown to all of Gotham, using the footage that one of his henchmen had taken of him questioning you as the intro.

“Batman, I have two riddles for you,” he said, addressing the camera. If you weren’t stuck on stage with two guns pointed at you as you tuned a somewhat cheap cello, you would have sighed. Why couldn’t he also include picture puzzles or something else for once? But you were stuck on stage so you just carefully tuned the instrument, hoping that none of the guards took your movement as you tuned as a sign of your sad attempt at running away.

“There are as many constellations in the sky as there are keys in a piano. What number am I? There you will find the answer to, ‘What is it that makes songs but you will never hear it sing?’ You have an hour to find them before I start playing my little game.”

As if that's your cue, one of the gunmen poked your back and you tensed, surprised by how cold the metal was through your sweater. You quickly quit your tuning and started playing the op. 88, hoping that maybe Batman or Robin would recognize it. It would probably be difficult for them to recognize since they probably weren’t as necessarily as interested in music as you were. And if they were, it’d probably be a little difficult to hear and piece together the piece since you were playing more stiffly than your usual languid movements.

You just hoped that they could understand the Riddler’s riddle and show up to save the night.

Two hours.

An hour has passed of you sitting in your seat playing your cello. Your butt was stiff from the hard chair, your back hurt from your stiff posture, and your wrist was burning pretty badly. At the thought of your wrist, your mind recoiled slightly. What if your soulmate was one of the Riddler’s henchmen? Or the Riddler himself? The thought of it made you want to puke.

“Well Gotham,” the Riddler said, standing in front of the mic as he paused to look dramatically at the camera. “Batman still hasn’t arrived yet so I will be starting my game. And today we have a very special guest that will be playing with me.”

At this, the goons started applauding and you heard a child in the audience cry even louder.

“Our special guest is the one and only (Y/N) (L/N) who has been playing such lovely music for us during our broadcast.”

You sat in your chair, music forgotten as another stage light shone on you.

“Now come on (Y/N), don’t be shy. I know that I’m somewhat of a local celebrity but I don’t bite.”

You shivered under the Riddler’s gaze and got up, trying your best not to stumble as you walked towards him. Your breathing was labored now and the closer you got to the Riddler, the more you felt like you were going to faint.

“(Y/N) here is going to play a simple game. She’s going to play a song that shows up in the cards,” he held up a large stack of index cards and fanned them out on the podium. The crying from the audience became even louder, with ‘Please, no’s mixed in. You turned to watch the small girl from the restaurant being dragged onto the stage, the bright lights highlighting the tears running down her face.

“And if (Y/N) here cannot play the song or if she plays even a single note or rhythm incorrectly, little Bella here will be dunked into this vat of water. For each mistake, she will be kept there for thirty seconds longer.”

You watched in horror as the girl was dragged towards what looked like a giant hole in the ground filled with water. She struggled against her restraints as she cried, her bleary eyes focused on something over your shoulder. You looked over in the corner of your eye and saw the familiar red and yellow of Robin.

As you turned around to shake the Riddler’s hand in acceptance of the rules, you curled your hand in a fist.

“Let the game begin,” he shouted, smiling at the camera before he went to choose a card.

“I’m sorry but we’re going to have to change the rules,” you said before pulling back your fist and punching him in the jaw.

One hour.

You were hiding in the corner of the stage, hidden by the curtains as you tried to untie Bella. The poor girl was trying to hold her sobs in but some still escaped, sounding misplaced in the sounds of Batman and Robin beating the Riddler & co. into oblivion.

You shushed her and tried to twist the rope and push it through the knot when a birdarang flew through the gap of the curtains and sliced your cheek along with the stray strands of hair nearby before hitting the wood paneling behind you. You ignored the blood that was slowly dripping down your face before grabbing the birdarang. You probably grabbed it wrong since it cut the palm of your hand, making you curse under your breath as you started sawing through the multiple knots in the ropes around Bella’s hands and feet.

Once she was free, the little girl tried to get up and run but you grabbed her, putting a finger up to your mouth and cupping a hand behind your ear, whispering “listen.”

You both sat there, listening to the sounds of Robin giggling as he punched someone. You furrowed your brow at that, wondering who exactly was the boy crazy enough to dress up as a traffic signal and fight crime with an equally weird man dressed as a bat.

You slowly started standing up once the sounds of Robin’s laughter had receded before holding a hand out to Bella. The young girl grabbed your hand and you both started edging your way off of the stage area where the fighting was taking place and towards her parents. Batman and Robin were tying people up when you finally found Bella’s father, the sound of the GCPD’s sirens in the background becoming louder and louder as they came closer.

As you and the other hostages made your way out, making sure to jump across the dock to the other side so you don’t fall into the disgusting water down below, you felt someone grab your wrist. You turned and smiled at Bella’s father.

“Why don’t you go and seek some medical assistance?”

“I will sir,” you replied before making your way to the paramedics, letting them fuss over your cuts. You could see Batman speaking to Commissioner Gordon but you couldn’t see Robin near them.

“I think you have something of mine,” Robin said with a grin as he held his hand towards you. You were surprised to see him in front of you but you smiled at him confused.

“I don’t know what you’re…,” you trailed off when you looked down to where he was pointing to see that you were still holding his birdarang.

“Oh. Well, I don’t know… maybe I should keep it. Something to remind me of this day,” you teased as you held up the birdarang so it was eye-level.

“Alright, you can keep it. Just don’t tell Batsie,” he said with a wink, causing you to giggle. “I’m sorry for cutting you.”

“It’s fine,” you said, wincing as the burning on your wrist became worse. Robin also gave out a hiss of pain at the same time as you, causing you to both stare at each other. You reached your hand out towards him slowly, letting your hands ghost over his cheekbones slightly when you felt the telltale cooling sensation of your wrist.

“Let’s go talk somewhere else,” he said, and you nodded, following behind him to an empty alleyway.

“Let me introduce myself again,” he started taking off his mask, “I’m Dick Grayson.”

You were met with the most beautiful pair of lilac-blue eyes, causing you to catch your breath in the back of your throat.

“And I’m (Y/N).”

“Why don’t we get out of here and get to know each other better, princess?”

“I would like that, love bird.”

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (6/?)

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.1k words

Bucky couldn't recall the last time he had a genuine conversation with someone who wasn't his best mates, Sam and Steve. He enjoyed your company and as much as he hated to let his guard down, he wanted to do just that with you. You were everything that Bucky thought he would find repulsive, but he couldn’t help but be attracted towards you. And for the first time he wanted more, he didn't want a one-night stand or a fling with you, he wanted to know you. He admired your courage and bravery, but mostly he admired you. You, with all your stupid yet funny jokes and spontaneity; he liked you more than he would like to admit.

But there was this thing that you were his employee and one meal doesn't count as a date. It was just a meal. But yet, Bucky wanted it to be more. He had never been so intrigued by another person, but it was also clear that you didn't reciprocate his interest. And Bucky would have all of his 206 bones crushed out rather than giving his heart to someone only for it to be not requited. 

So, when you walked into the club the next day, pretending as if nothing had changed, Bucky knew where your relationship lay with him, and he was content with it. Okay, he wasn't content with it, but he knew he couldn't force something that wasn't there. He would choose to be in your life as your boss, acquaintance, or maybe even a friend if he's lucky enough than to not be in your life at all. 

***

When you got settled behind the counter, your mood wasn't that great. It could be because you weren't drunk this time, or maybe because you enjoyed your meal with your boss a little too much for your liking. You wouldn't call it a date, but it sure as hell was a lot better than all the dates or meals you've had with people.

Your good mood was definitely not because of the fact that your mother called only to inform you that this family friend's son is not going to wait around long, and you should at least find a stable job if you can't find a suitable boyfriend. Then she started boasting about your sister and her amazing profession and how she and her husband save lives every day. And you might have had enough of her bullshit and lied that you indeed have a stable job and relationship. None of which is true. 

Bartending only pays the bills, and you haven't had a relationship in years and none of them were serious. You always ran away from any sort of commitment because you knew you would eventually have to introduce your partner to your family and nobody deserves to see that circus, and you told yourself that you're doing a favor to those previous partners by leaving them or as your friends like to call ghosting them. In your defense, dealing with you and your family is more horrific than any scary movie. 

Well, until now because tomorrow your sister and her family are coming to meet your partner and take you back to your parents' place for the weekend. The only problem is that you lied to them about your job and your partner. The worst part is that both of them are pretty non-existent.

"Hey, How are you feeling? " Peter asked you, noticing how you still weren't paying attention to the customer in front of you. 

“Great, not drunk, if that's what you're wondering.” 

“I'm fine," you retorted, glancing at the concerned look Peter was giving you. You quickly took the customer's order and proceeded to make the drink. 

"The last time you said you were fine, you threatened to kill a dude," Pietro interjected, enjoying the faux disbelief that landed on your face. You looked over to Wanda for help, but she just chuckled at her brother's antics.

The rest of the night at work went by as it usually did. Pietro making a sarcastic remark here and there, Wanda countering her brother with a snarky response, you were laughing your ass off watching the duo and Peter awkwardly tried to suppress his amusement. In a weird custom, these three coworkers were the only thing that felt normal. 

By the time you were done, it was mostly you left like always, with the addition of security guards that James added since Rumlow. You wanted to talk to him, especially after the wonderful not date you had, but the situation with him was not under your control anymore and it released from your grasp which scared the shit out of you. If James and you had met under different circumstances, then you would have tried to date him, but with him being your boss and the whole Rumlow thing made everything so complicated, and you didn't have time for any sort of relationship complication in your life. At least that's what you kept telling yourself.

When you were done with your shift and were about to leave, a very familiar voice called for you. You've been trying to ignore him all day and just when you thought you've succeeded, he catches up to you. 

The thing that scared you with James was that you felt safe, too safe with him. You were scared that you were going to become dependent on him for your security, and you hated that. You always despised women who weren't anything except their husband's wife, as if their whole identity was being a man's property. Furthermore, you knew the only thing to be blamed here was patriarchy and men, but you decided that you weren't going to be someone's property, you were going to be your own person. 

And you rebelled a lot to reach here, dyed your hair blue just because your mom told you not to, pursued your dream just because your dad told you to follow a secure nine to four job, left ex-partners because they told you what to and what not to wear. And some part of you knew that James wasn't like that. He wouldn't exploit you and your weaknesses. 

But what you didn't realize was that these were merely excuses that your brain mustered up because you were too scared to be dumped. A long time ago, you decided that it is better to leave than be left. And James — well, James made you feel things that you didn't want to chase. You feared commitment and abandonment too much to go after a guy. 

Your thoughts were brought to a halt when he held your wrist gently and called your name again. Reluctantly, you turned around, pretending to be surprised as if you didn't see him. 

He obviously caught on to you. "Why are you ignoring me?" 

"What?" You scoffed in feign disbelief, taking your hand away from his grasp and setting it on his shoulder. "Why would I ignore you, bud?"

Bud? What the fuck? , both of you thought at the same time.

Carefully, he eyed your hand and then you, "Okay, come on, I'll drop you home."

"No, James, it's fine, I can go on my own." 

"Yes, yes, you are an independent, strong woman but come on," He teased, but you didn't seem to pick up the glint of mischief in his eyes. 

You heard that as a taunt, a taunt your father has told you an ample number of times, that you indeed can never be anything on your own if you don't have a man beside you. While you were lost in your thoughts, James was moving towards his car, assuming that you were following him.

 "But I am," you argued. 

Your voice sounded distant to him, he turned around and walked towards you. "You are what?" 

"I am strong and independent."

"Yes, you are," he agreed as a matter of factly because it was the truth. He had never met someone so strong who would leave behind their whole life to pursue their dreams. He, being the mob boss, and filthy rich couldn't do the same, and he may not tell you this, but he admired you so much. 

Once you got the assurance you needed, you started walking towards his car. "Are you coming or not?" and he followed you. 

Of course, you knew you were strong, but your life had not been going as smoothly as you anticipated. You're stuck in writer's block, your family interference and lack of trust in you hurts like a bitch. You were somewhat crushing on your boss, and you blurted random embarrassing stuff in front of him without thinking. You know, normal crush things. 

When you reached the apartment, he insisted on dropping you to your floor. The car ride was spent in peaceful silence, but the time spent in the elevator was everything but that. No, the fifteen seconds were spent in James fidgeting beside you because he wanted to say something but didn't know how to. 

After you unlocked your door, he finally spoke up. "Um, I was just wondering whether, you know, - I had fun last night and I don't have smooth conversations with people - um, I don't know, I'd like to go out with you again," he didn't finish, but your eyebrows shot up to your forehead and he quickly backpedaled. " Not as a date, if that's what you want. It could be a meal shared between you and your boss. Not that I'm implying that you are obligated to go with me just because I'm your boss. I'm asking this as a stranger, well, not as a stranger but as a friend, I think."

"James,” you spoke softly, and he could feel the denial coming his way.” I had fun too, but you're my boss. This is highly unprofessional."

He signed in defeat and looked at you one last time. There was so much he wanted to say, he wanted to tell you that he enjoyed your company more than he should. He wanted to tell you that he liked you. He wanted to tell you that he wanted to see where this thing would lead with you, but he knew better than that. At the end of the day, you were his employee and if you were to get involved with him in any form, it would only end in your tarnished reputation. So, he nodded, not trusting himself enough to speak much after the clear rejection. "I understand."

"Y/N! “

Both of you turned towards the source of the voice and frowned. He frowned because he was confused, whereas you, oh, you weren't confused, you were furious at the person standing there and at yourself for forgetting about their arrival.

 "Hi, Carol. I thought you were coming tomorrow," you stated, faking a smile, and everyone in the area could see your distressed attempt at looking excited.

 Well, everyone except your sister because she shrieked with happiness and ran towards you to throw her arms around you. Her husband followed behind and gave you and James an awkward smile.

 "I just couldn't wait to meet my baby sister and we'll take you guys back for the weekend."

You guys, James and you thought at the same time. James looked at the side of your face for an explanation, and you kept looking forward at your sister, avoiding his gaze.

Fuck, you forgot about that. How can you forget about that? You mentally cursed yourself and didn't say anything because you didn't know what to do. 

Your sister picked your silence as her cue to talk and pointed her index finger at James, who was standing beside you now. "Is this him?"

Your sister looked at you, expecting an answer, your brother-in-law looked at you with something called, please hurry up, I just want to go back to the hotel. James looked at you with bewilderment. 

You sighed and took your boss's hand in yours, who also happens to be the most dangerous person in the town. He complied, holding on to you tightly, running his thumb on the back of your hand in a soothing manner. It felt like the most obvious thing as if your hand was made to be held by him. The thought sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, but you were too stubborn to accept it.

"Yes," you finalized. "This is James, my boyfriend."

TAGS: @bananapipedreams @akkinda10 @rivers-rambles21 @emmabarnes @goodcleanfunsis @valsworldofcreativity @boofy1998 @marvel-3407​ @priii​

[yellowsuitcase]

In the Prefect’s Bathroom Part 4 // Draco Malfoy

A/N: Guys!!! It's the FINAL part, yay!! I'm super proud of this and I think it's super cute and just AAHH I really hope y'all like it. Lemme know what you think of it and if you expected any of it. Thank you so much for reading, and Happy Thanksgiving (if you celebrate it)

Summary: Draco has been trying to get Y/N to talk to him since he confessed, but he hasn't had any luck. Until, he finds something she left in his dorm.

Warning(s): SMUT! Unprotected sex, lots of fluff, swearing, angst

Word Count: 5k

Masterlist & Taglist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Three weeks had gone by, and now Draco was on his bed, toying with the idea of giving up. Y/N had been avoiding him ever since that day he confessed. No matter how hard he tried to get her to warm back up to him, she kept her distance. He had tried everything. He'd sit next to her in class; she'd move seats. He'd wait outside the Gryffindor tower; she'd strut right past him. It seemed as nothing was working, so of course, he was getting a bit discouraged.

Just a couple days ago, the two of them had been in Charms class, and on his way out, Draco noticed that Y/N had dropped her book. This is my chance, he thought to himself. He quickly bent down to pick it up since he assumed she would've been already halfway down the corridor by the time he got back up. But when he arose from the floor, she was standing right in front of him. His heart pounded in his chest. Draco knew he had to stall for time, try and get her defenses to weaken. He turned the book over in his hands. "The Tales of Beedle and Bard," he read aloud. Y/N blushed and averted her eyes. He opened the cover and read the first few lines to himself.

There was once a kindly old wizard who used his magic generously and wisely for the benefit of his neighbours. Rather than reveal the true source of his power, he pretended that his potions, charms and antidotes sprang ready-made from the little cauldron he called his lucky cooking pot.

Draco shut the book and said, "I've actually never read them. My father didn't permit me to. Said it was written by a muggle lover. Supposedly he filed an official request to remove it from Hogwarts's shelves." Draco chuckled as he ran his finger along the spine of the light blue book. But his laughter died when he glanced up at Y/N. She looked rather upset, causing Draco to panic and quickly backtrack. "That isn't to say I don't want to read them now. I mean, I'm sure they're not as bad as Father thought they were," he sputtered. Y/N remained silent. "Perhaps... we could read them together, maybe?" he asked hopefully. He knew it was a shot in the dark, but he did it anyway. Draco hadn't heard Y/N's voice in weeks, and it was making him grow desperate.

Softly, she reached out her hand, and Draco held his breath. But then her fingers grasped the book, and the Slytherin felt his heart shatter. He cleared his throat, trying to push away the lump that had formed in it. His grip loosened, and Y/N pulled her book towards her chest. She didn't even look at him before she turned around and rushed down the hallway, leaving Draco feeling stranded, hopeless, and, quite frankly, stupid for even trying.

Since then, he hadn't put in nearly as much effort into rekindling their friendship. It was painfully obvious Y/N wanted nothing more to do with him, and as much as it hurt, Draco had to accept that. But that didn't stop his thoughts. It couldn't. Every night, he would lay awake, worrying. Worrying about Y/N's wellbeing. Was she happy? Did she make any new friends?

Did she still feel alone?

Draco didn't know. From the little he'd seen of her, he assumed she was alright. He hoped she was. But he had no real way of knowing. He had tried reaching out to her roommate multiple times, but all Stephanie would tell him was that she thought Y/N seemed fine, just a bit quiet. That answer never sat well with him. During those few weeks, before he confessed, he had learned so much about Y/N. One of those things being that she was not quiet. She had talked his ear off many times, telling him funny stories from her childhood. Like how, after one of their study sessions, she told him about the time she had made her pet fish turn yellow just by looking at it. Draco remembered that day clearly.

"My mum was terrified! One moment my fish was blue and the next he was yellow! I mean, imagine that." Y/N laughed. Draco shook his head in disbelief. "Sounds like you were quite the little mischief-maker," he replied as he twirled his wand between his fingers, it was becoming a bit of a habit. Y/N continued giggling, kicking her legs as she did so. "You should've seen the look on my dad's face when he got home. That was the day he sat her and me down and told us he was a wizard. My poor mum. She had no idea."

Draco sat up in shock. "Wait, wait, you're a half-blood?" he asked, eyes wide. Y/N cocked an eyebrow. "Is that a problem, Malfoy?" she questioned as she began to sit up. Her tone was somewhat threatening. Draco raised his hands to show his lack of ill intention. "No, no. I was just surprised," he quickly explained. Y/N chuckled and waved her hand towards him. "Relax, I'm only playing with you," she assured him. Her words piqued Draco's interest. He wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips, staring suggestively into her eyes. "Well, I'd sure like to play with you," he husked. Y/N gasped loudly and swiftly removed the pillow from behind her back and chucked it at the blonde boy sitting across from her. "Draco!" she screeched. "Joking!" he mumbled. "Just joking...unless."

Y/N crossed her arms, and obnoxiously shook her head while clicking her tongue disapprovingly. Draco snickered before throwing the pillow back at her, making her giggle. His heart skipped a beat as he watched her eyes twinkle. She looked unreal to Draco, ethereal almost. However, he was torn from his trance by her continuing the story. "Anyways, as I was saying, my lovely mum had the shock of her life. I was surprised as well. I mean, I had just found out I was a bloody witch. Although I was much more delighted than she was. Come to think of it, she might've cried," Y/N said with a small frown. "Wow..." Draco muttered. "But what does she think of it now? What with you being at Hogwarts and all."

Y/N hummed to herself, recalling that last time she and her mother spoke about Hogwarts. "Well, I think she thinks it's a bit surreal, you know? She always imagined I'd graduate and go off to university to become a doctor or something, but here I am at a school for wizards and witches," she said while gesturing to the castle walls around her. Draco nodded although he was a bit confused. "She just doesn't understand, right?" he asked. Y/N pursed her lips. "I think she will, with time. Maybe I can introduce her to you and your family. Now that would be really fun," she suggested with a mischievous glint in her eye. Draco furrowed his eyebrows. "And why is that?" he questioned, staring at the giggling girl. "Just imagine me introducing you. I'd say, hey mum, this is my best friend and his wizard parents who dress like they're going to a funeral every single day. Oh, and they also own a mansion in the countryside because they're rolling in galleons!" Y/N bellowed, nearly falling over as she clutched her stomach, erupting in laughter.

Draco would've berated her for the slander towards his parents, but his mind was fixated on three words, "My best friend." He waited until Y/N ceased laughing before asking her, "I'm your best friend?" She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "Well, duh, you're my only friend, Draco." The Slytherin did his best to hide his blush as he looked to the floor. "You're mine too," he mumbled. But Y/N didn't hear.

Draco sighed as he sat on his bed. He missed her. He wished so badly that she'd walk through his door. But she wouldn't, and he knew that. Slowly, he pushed himself off the green covered mattress and walked over to his wooden desk. A piece of parchment was already on top of it, so he took a seat, and he reached for his ink bottle and quill. His nimble fingers unscrewed the cap, and he dipped the point inside it, drenching it in black liquid. He'd written letters to Y/N many times, but every time he finished one, he'd get scared and chuck it into the bin. Draco knew he'd probably do the same tonight, but he wanted to try. So he pressed his quill to the paper and began.

"Dear Y/N, I hope you are doing well. I'm writing to you to give you my apologies. I should've known better than to confess my feelings for you at such a time. I really hope..." he stilled his hand, not knowing what to say next. His head was reeling as different thoughts and feelings flooded his brain, none of which he knew how to convey in words. She made him so dizzy. But, ever persistent, Draco started again.

"Dear Y/N, Are you doing well? I truly hope that you are. I write to you to tell you that I'm sorry for everything. I said and did so many foolish things that day, and if I could take all of them back, I swear, I would. I know I must've frightened you that day, but Y/N, I fear you don't know how much I miss you. I've never felt this empty before. But I know it's because you're not here. I need you..." Draco, in his frustrated haze, crossed out the last line and crumbled the parchment in his fist. He then tossed it across the room, watching as it hit the wall next to his door, and bounced on the foot of his brass coat rack. He stared at it, thinking about donning his coat and taking a walk around campus. But then, he noticed something underneath. He jumped to his feet and rushed over to the rack. Curious, he lifted his black coat off the hook to reveal a brown cardigan underneath. His chest tightened; it was Y/N's. She must've left it in his room after one of their study sessions. Come to think of it, it was probably from the night before Draco confessed.

Hesitantly, the boy reached out and touched his fingers to the cardigan. It was soft. He lifted it up and held it in his hands, letting his emotions settle. Then, he brought it to his nose, breathing in deeply. It still smelled of her: apples, hazelnut, and cinnamon. Draco felt tears begin to gather in his eyes, but he hastily blinked them away. With care, he hung the cardigan back up and retreated to his desk. He got seated, pulled out a new sheet of parchment, and began writing for the third time that night.

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

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you well. I'm writing to you to inform you that I've discovered your cardigan in my room. The brown one that is. I suppose you left it after our last study session. I can return it to you tomorrow morning at breakfast, or if you'd prefer, you can fetch it tonight. The current password to the Slytherin common room is Jobberknoll. Hopefully, you remember where my bedroom is, but should you have forgotten, it's at the very top of the stairway on your left. Please knock three times before entering.

There's no need to send an owl with your reply. Just make sure to come before 9:30. If you don't, I'll assume you wish to receive the cardigan at breakfast, in which case, I shall wait for you by the door.

Draco

Y/N clutched the parchment tightly in her hands. She had been scared half to death when an owl landed right beside her while she was sitting by the open windows. But now, she was more afraid of getting her cardigan back. She glanced around her room frantically, as if she'd find an answer to her dilemma upon the walls. Her eyes then drifted back to the parchment in her hands. She looked at where Draco had signed his name. Above it was a dark scribble as if he had scratched something out. What did he write there? It was probably just 'sincerely,' but what if it was something else. What if it was 'with love'? Y/N wondered. She closed her eyes; she needed to calm down. There was no way she'd be able to make a rational decision with such thoughts running through her brain.

But Y/N had nobody to consult, nobody to refer to. Ever since she'd pushed Draco away that day, she'd been alone. Her roommate spoke to her on occasion, but only about school-related things. Almost the entirety of her house had shunned her. And the whole school knew what she did, so making friends had proven to be difficult. But because of this, Y/N had been able to do a lot of thinking. Truthfully, she missed Draco. She hated herself for rejecting him that day. She hated herself because she liked him. The only reason she had rejected him was that she knew she wasn't ready for another relationship. And on top of that, she didn't think she deserved one. Draco wasn't someone she deserved, not in her mind.

But here she was, being forced to make a decision. Should she just wait until tomorrow, or should she go to his room? Her brain was telling her to wait until tomorrow; that way, she could take the cardigan, thank him, and be on her merry way. But her heart screamed at her to go to him. Go to him, confess to him, bring him back into her life. Y/N glanced at the clock; it was nearly nine. "Fuck," she muttered before pushing off the window seat; her loneliness had gotten the best of her.

She rushed towards her closet and flung the doors open. Her eyes scanned the array of clothing for a few moments before she pulled out her favorite pair of light grey sweatpants along with her pale green crewneck. She threw them on and tucked her wand into her pocket. Then she checked herself in the mirror. Her hair was already pulled back, and she had light mascara on. It was good enough, in her opinion, so she slipped on her shoes and turned her doorknob with a shaky hand.

--------

Draco was sitting in his armchair with a blue book in his hands when he heard three distinct knocks at his door. His breathing began to hasten; surely, it couldn't be... Only one way to find out. "Come in!" he called. The door swung open to reveal Y/N. She looked nervous as all hell but nevertheless, stepped inside his room and closed the door behind her. Neither of them said anything. They simply stared at one another. But luckily, Draco came to his senses. "Right, your cardigan," he said as he dropped his book and stood up. He grabbed the cardigan off the back of his chair and walked over to her, holding out the garment. "Here you are." Y/N took it into her hands and examined it. "Thank you, I thought it was lost forever," she told him with a smile. Draco faltered for a moment. He'd forgotten how sweet her voice was. But then he nodded, and the awkward silence returned. It hung in the air for a few moments before it was broken by the two of them simultaneously blurting out, "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry, Y/N," Draco insisted while shifting his eyes to the floor. "I acted like a fool that day a-and I frightened you, and I made you so overwhelmed. I should've known better, and I am so sorry...I've missed you so much," he said, whispering his last few words. Eventually, he found the courage to look up, and when he did, he saw that Y/N was crying. His heart clenched, and he felt regret pool in his gut. But before he could apologize again, Y/N spoke up.

"I've missed you too, Draco. And I'm not sorry I rejected you that day, I'm sorry that I kicked you out of my life. I thought I was protecting myself because I just knew I would've gone back on my decision if I had let you stay. I liked you too, I still do, but I just wasn't ready. You're too good to be true. I don't deserve a second chance; I don't deserve you. But you didn't deserve to be shut out, and I really hope you can forgive—"

Y/N was cut off by Draco smashing his lips against hers. He held her face in his hands as she gasped, allowing him to sneak his tongue out and run it along her lower lip. She moaned into his mouth as he started to nibble. His hands traveled downwards until they settled on her hips. He pulled her closer and groaned when his hips touched hers. God, how he had missed this. Then, Y/N reached up and ran her hands through his hair, successfully messing it up. Draco knew he wanted more but pulled away from her lips. She breathed heavily and looked into his eyes, puzzled as to why he stopped.

"You're mine...right?" Draco asked anxiously. Y/N smiled and pulled him close for another soft kiss. "I'm yours," she whispered. Draco kissed her again, and she eagerly returned it. Hesitantly, Draco sneaked his hand underneath her shirt, merely letting it sit there against her hot skin as he slipped his tongue into her mouth again. Then, he began to slide his hand up her torso, all while paying attention to her reactions. She seemed to be kissing him harder as he gently ran his thumb along the underside of her breast. He took that as a sign he was doing good, so he placed his hand on top of it and squeezed. Y/N let out a loud moan and pulled away from the kiss. "Draco, please," she whined. He snickered as he studied her pleading face. "What do you need, princess?" he asked in a sultry voice. Y/N squirmed and continued to whine. Draco clicked his tongue. "Always so scared to tell me what you want. There's no need to be embarrassed. I'll give you whatever you want. I just need you to tell me," he reminded her gently. She bit her lip and stared at the floor before finally answering.

"I wanna have sex with you," she whispered. Her face was crimson. Draco felt his heart squeeze; she was too cute. He put his hand underneath her chin and tilted it upwards. A gentle kiss was planted on her lips. "I wanna have sex with you too, darling," he murmured. Y/N couldn't hide her smile as she swiftly took his hand and led him to the bed. Draco smirked and, with sneaky hands, pushed her onto the bed, making her squeal. "Draco!" she yelled with her back now pressed against the mattress. The Slytherin wasted no time; he jumped on top of her while mimicking a roar, causing Y/N to burst into laughter. Her laugh was music to his ears.

Draco tugged her shirt up and off her body, throwing it to the floor. His hands immediately traveled to her back where he unclasped her bra, throwing that away too. Draco felt his dick twitch in his pants upon seeing her nipples harden in the cold air. He leaned down and latched his lips onto one of them while twisting the other between his fingers. Y/N's gasp sent a shiver down his spine, and he sucked her even harder.

"Draco..." she moaned. Draco let go of her tits and sat up, admiring her flushed face. Then Y/N suddenly sat up and grasped the bottom of his shirt and proceeded to yank it off him. Draco only watched as she did this. Her hands then traveled to his pants. She unzipped him and pushed his waistband down, exposing his briefs. He helped her out by maneuvering himself off his knees so that he could kick his pants off.

Once the pants joined the rest of the clothes, Y/N reached for the top of his underwear. But before she could go any further, Draco stopped her. She looked at him, confused as to why he wouldn't want her to touch him. "Tonight is about you, darling. Lie back for me now," Draco instructed. Y/N's face turned red, but she did as she was told and lowered her body onto the bed. Draco's hands grasped her pants, and he slowly pulled them down, stopping to press kisses to her thighs as he went. They were both in only their underwear now, and he could see Y/N was getting impatient. "Speak princess, what do you want?" Draco asked. Y/N pressed her thighs together and rolled her hips a bit before she spoke. "Finger me, please," she begged. Draco smiled at her and immediately pressed his fingers to her pussy, still covered by her panties.

"So polite," he purred as he gently rubbed her clit through her underwear. She closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure. "That feel good, princess?" Draco asked. Y/N nodded and opened her mouth to reply, but a long moan quickly replaced the words on her tongue as Draco applied more pressure to her nub. He continued to swirl his finger around it for a couple minutes, then he slid a different finger past her panties and slowly pushed it inside, feeling her thighs clench as he did so. "So tight," he mumbled before leaning down and giving her a sweet kiss. The intrusion of another finger caused her to gasp into his mouth. Draco groaned and pressed down on her clit, making her hips jump.

"Did you miss this? Did you miss my fingers inside you and my kisses on your body?" he questioned as he thrusted into her. Y/N clenched her walls around his digits and nodded eagerly. "So much. So fucking much," she mewled. Draco added another finger and increased his pace. He noticed Y/N's breathing beginning to get quicker, and he knew she was close. So he finger-fucked her hole for a minute more before withdrawing his hand. Y/N cried out in frustration and glared at him angrily. "Why did you do that?" she whined.

But then, without warning, Draco lifted up her shirt and pressed his lips to her soft stomach, blowing a raspberry onto it. Y/N instantly screamed and wiggled violently underneath him. "STOP, STOP!" she shrieked, trying to get away as her giggles became uncontrollable. Eventually, Draco took mercy on her and ceased his torment. He leaned up to see Y/N was out of breath, and her hair was a mess. "Quit playing games and put your dick inside me, you twat," she ordered. Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "If you say so," he muttered, taking his cock out of his underwear. Y/N's eyes widened, but before she could say or do anything, Draco slid all the way inside her, burying his dick in her pussy. "Ohhh, fuck," she moaned. Draco grunted as he adjusted to the tightness of her hole. He had the instinct to begin slamming into her, but he controlled his urges and allowed her body to adapt to him as he positioned his hands next to her head.

Y/N's walls clenched around him, and she bucked her hips. "Move, please," she pleaded softly. "As you wish," Draco said as he slowly pulled himself out and thrusted back in, setting a slow but consistent pace. Y/N let out quiet mewls as he moved in and out. Her legs found their way to his waist, and they quickly wrapped around it. This pulled him closer and forced his dick deeper inside her. "Fuck," Draco moaned as he leaned down for a kiss while continuing to thrust. Y/N hummed into his mouth and flicked her tongue against his. "Shit, you feel so good," she purred. Draco's cock twitched at her words, and he increased his pace. A harsh grunt escaped him as Y/N reached up and dug her nails into his back. "You're so gorgeous, Y/N," he breathed. "So goddamn gorgeous."

Suddenly, Draco's sensual thrusts were halted by Y/N calling his name. "Yes, darling?" he replied. "You can be rough, I don't mind," she told him gently. Draco smiled down at her and pressed quick kisses along her jaw. "I know, but I can do that another night. Right now," he angled his head so that his lips were by her ear, "I'm making love to you," he whispered, feeling her shudder beneath him.

Y/N's eyes grew soft, and she moved her hands to his face. "You're perfect," she mumbled before pulling his lips to hers, where they shared a passionate kiss. "So perfect." Draco started to thrust again, resuming his slower pace. The force of his cock rocked the couple back and forth on the plush pillows. But then, he had an idea.

He moved his hands from their spot beside Y/N's head, slid them underneath her back, and lifted her up. "Shit," she cursed as she was now on Draco's lap, his dick still buried deep inside her. Slowly, Draco raised her off him and turned her around so that her back was facing him. He then repositioned her hips above his cock and gently lowered her onto it. "Ohhh," she moaned as she once again became full. She was about to lift herself up and fuck herself on his dick, but Draco's hands stopped her. He pushed her legs wide and placed his hand over her pussy. This didn't please Y/N. She started to squirm and buck her hips forward, causing Draco to groan as she stimulated his cock. "Stay still, princess. I'll take care of you," he assured her. His fingers pressed against her heat and slowly spread the upper lips, exposing her clit. With his other hand, he touched his fingers to her nub and slowly began to circle it. Y/N's head fell back onto his shoulder, and a long, deep groan escaped her throat.

"Oh my god," she whimpered as her breathing became ragged. Draco's hands never stopped or stuttered, not even when Y/N's walls squeezed him tight. He just kept rubbing and rubbing; her soft pants sounded like heaven to him. Suddenly, Y/N's thighs began to tense. "Draco, fuck, I'm close," she muttered. Draco turned his head and once again hovered his lips next to her ear. "Cum on me. Cum with me buried inside you," he ordered. Y/N gasped and rolled her head on his shoulder. He could tell she was almost there. "Oh, god. Fuck, fuck, fuck, just a little more," she begged.

Draco kept circling her clit until finally, she inhaled sharply, and her walls clenched him hard. His finger didn't stop; it continued to rub her throughout her high. It only ceased when Draco felt her body jolt from overstimulation. He then pushed her forward onto her hands and knees and began pounding into her, chasing his own climax. The sounds of skin slapping combined with the tightness of Y/N's pussy lit a fire in Draco's abdomen, and soon, he was pushed over the edge. "Cumming," he warned her before he released inside Y/N with a deep groan. The couple remained in that position for a good minute, breathing heavily. Then Draco pulled himself out and laughed as Y/N immediately collapsed face-first onto his bed. He gently flipped her over and kissed her cheek. "You alright, darling?" he asked. She smiled and turned to him. Then, without thinking, she blurted, "I think I love you." Immediately, Y/N slapped her hand over her mouth. But Draco only grinned and said, "I love you too, Y/N."

She lowered her hand and averted her eyes as blush filled her cheeks. "Draco, are we..." she trailed off, looking apprehensive. "Boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked. Y/N nodded. "I'd love to be your boyfriend, darling," he said sweetly. In less than a second, Draco was attacked by a forceful hug from Y/N. He wrapped his arms around her still naked body and held her close, breathing in her scent: apples, hazelnut, and cinnamon.

"Thank you for not giving up on me," she said softly. "I don't know what I would've done with myself if you had just stopped caring one day," Y/N confessed. Draco gently pulled away from the hug and cradled his girlfriend's face in his hands. "I never  would've stopped caring. Y/N you were all I thought about," he assured her. He watched as her tears began to fall from her eyes. "Don't cry, sweetheart, I'm here now; I've got you. There's no need to cry," he said sweetly, trying to comfort her. But Y/N kept on crying, so he dragged a blanket over his lap and pulled her on top of it. "Look at me, darling," he instructed lightly. She rubbed her tears away with her arm and looked into Draco's eyes.

"I love you. I love you so much. Do not waste your tears on the mistakes of the past. All that matters is that I've got you, and you've got me. Alright?" Y/N continued to wipe her tears and nodded. "Alright. I love you too," she replied.

Draco pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, slid her off his lap, and stood up from the bed. He grabbed some tissues and cleaned himself off before doing the same for Y/N. Then he pulled on his underwear and tossed Y/N hers. As she was getting dressed, Draco strode over to his armchair. In the seat of it sat a small blue book. He picked it up and took it with him as he went back to bed. Y/N was already under the covers; she looked at him quizzically when she noticed the object in his hand. Her mouth opened to speak, but Draco quickly shushed her. He slid under the covers and cozied up next to Y/N. Then, he cracked open the book, cleared his throat, and began to read.

"There was once a kindly old wizard who used his magic generously and wisely for the benefit of his neighbours. Rather than reveal the true source of his power, he pretended that his potions, charms and antidotes sprang ready-made from the little cauldron he called his lucky cooking pot."

The End

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[lucyv3rn]

PJ Gets in Trouble.

(Expansion of @itsmaplebeebs idea: a revamped pj's daycare where pj hates his job and all the kids are shit. (Lucy is my character and a placeholder until I find an actual manager of the daycare. If you have any ideas, please lmk!

(TW: mentions of underage smoking and weed usage.

"Pway famiwy with me!" Fresh demanded, yanking on PJ's scarf. "Pway famiwy wih me!!" PJ, (maybe a little too quickly) was getting annoyed. "Busy, li'l man. Maybe next time," he said with a rather forced smile. He wasn't actually busy, but Fresh didn't know that. Fresh scowled, dropping. His entire weight made PJ's scarf tighten around his neck, choking him rather efficiently.

"Stop it," he snapped, refraining from adding twerp. He had already gotten yelled at enough for that. He grabbed his scarf and yanked it free from Fresh, watching as he (rather pathetically) rolled onto his back.

A door opened, one PJ recognized was Lucy's. He cringed, hoping that she was just checking in on the kids rather than yell at him. He hoped it was the prior.

"PJ." Goddamnit. "My office. Now."

PJ was used to getting yelled at by Lucy. Actually, PJ was used to getting yelled at in general. His...not-so-great grades, for lack of better words, resulted in a lot of screaming from his teachers and parents. But this time was different. She actually sounded pissed off. Still, he was sure it would be better than playing family with Fresh.

He got up, heading over to her office, well aware of Goth and Palette's stares. He kept his chin up, shutting the door behind him.

Sitting down maybe too comfortably to be respectful, he looked at Lucy. She tossed him something, him catching it out of reflex. He looked down to see what it was...

Oh no, PJ thought as he looked back up at Lucy.

"Tell me why I caught Fell running around with a Juul." Lucy spat the word "Juul" out like it tasted bad.

"..." PJ didn't say something, looking away. Shit, shit, shit, fuck, fuck, fuck-

He thought he had been slick about it, hiding it behind his unused calculator that was hidden deep in his (pretty messy) backpack. If he wasn't so scared, he'd be mad at Fell for going through his stuff.

His lack of response seemed to only fuel Lucy's rage. "Why do you even have this? Your 17, for Christ's sake! And why on Earth do you have it in your school backpack? This makes it a school issue! I have to report this to your school and you bet your ass I'm telling your parents unless you cough up a damn good excuse."

PJ's brain worked quickly to make up a "damn good excuse". "I didn't take it to school. It was in the car and,-" "You walk here," she snapped, cutting him off.

"I got in my friend's car to change after weight lifting," he said, maybe a little too quickly. Her eyes narrowed, but PJ could tell she bought it (years of lying to his parents granted him this). "And I keep it in there. The pods don't have nicotine, either, so it's legal." That was...somewhat true. He sometimes used nicotine with it, but it was mainly weed. He had a fake weed card, too, so he could pull that out if she mentioned it.

She sighed, rubbing the temple of her nose and mumbling, "What am I going to do with you," before actually addressing him again. "If what you're saying is true, I won't report you to your school, but your lucky I'm not. I will tell your parents though. Don't let this happen ever again, young man. Now get out of my office."

"Yes'm," he said, nodding, and immediately rushing out, not pushing the chair back in.

[paperpocalypse]

significance.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 26. Cuddling in comfortable silence before murmuring “I love you” + 47. “I’ve been in love with you for years”

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,118 words

Warning: Swearing, violence

His head feels like it’s been split open, the rest of his body feels like one giant bruise and the Handler’s daughter has her fancy leather boot on his fucking throat.

Five couldn’t be less surprised by his luck.

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

He forces in just enough breath to answer her. “Eat shit and die …!”

The reaction is worth it. Lila lets out a furious cry, gritting her teeth and bringing her foot down even harder – and in doing so, changes her center of gravity. Opportunity. Five digs his nails into that damned shoe and pushes upwards. The sudden force sends her flying, and he can breathe again.

Fighting the ache in his bones, Five stumbles to his feet as she does the same. “Come on,” he pants, readying his stance as the woman turns to face him again. “What are you waiting for? Let’s finish this thing.”

She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, sniffling. “This isn’t gonna be quick. You are going to suffer for what you did.”

Suffer? For Christ’s sake – Five scoffs and drops his hands. “Lady, I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Ronnie and Anita Gill.”

“Mean nothing to me.”

“1993, East London.” Lila continues to stare at him like he knows what the hell she’s talking about. “You hog-tied them and you shot them in the head.”

Five narrows his eyes; it’s very possible that she’s just bullshitting him. But despite the rationality of just ignoring her and going for the kill, he searches his memories anyway. 1993, East London. Hog-tied. Tables overturned, the pleas of a couple inside a tiny flat in the middle of the night. Yes, wait – he does remember. 1993, toys strewn everywhere – he told you to close your eyes but you didn’t – East London, two quick shots –

“We had no choice.”

“I know. But …”

“The flower merchants,” he murmurs. Five looks at her with wide eyes. “They were your parents …!”

“And they never did anything to anyone. They didn’t deserve to die like that.”

The Handler ordered him to kill Lila’s parents. Lila, who has powers like them. That couldn’t have been a coincidence.

Absorbing this newfound information, Five attempts to talk the woman down as he fills out the rest of the picture. “You’re right, alright? I killed them. But I killed a lot of people over the years. It was all just a job. Alright? That was never personal.”

At that, Lila laughs. “‘Never personal,’ my ass,” she sneers. “Yeah, I’ve killed – it’s always, always personal.”

“That’s why you’re not cut out to be an assassin.”

She yanks a knife out of her boot as soon as the sentence leaves his mouth. “Bet your life on that?”

Right then, a shadow moves in the doorway to the barn. Five immediately knows who it is, and his heart seizes in his chest.

“Lila!” Your voice is firm and taunting.

Shit. Shit!

Without hesitation, Five lunges for the knife, only to find himself grabbing at air as Lila reappears behind you. The blade is pressed against your neck before he can even shout your name.

Five clenches his fists as he meets your eyes. Your expression is stony, hands stiffly grasping at Lila’s arm. Jesus Christ, just a little energy to blink – nothing –!

Fucking shit!

“Let her go.”

—

The bearded man smiles. “Sorry, no can do.”

The alley is frigid and dark, the air damp and rotting. He doesn’t move a muscle. In front of him, you breathe steadily, in and out, not saying a word. The steel barrel pressed flush to your temple mirrors the one against his.

“Just hand over your valuables and that briefcase, and we can be on our way.”

“Sorry,” you say, voice steady and cold. (It makes him proud.) “Everything stays with us.”

He looks at you. You blink.

Within the next half-second, he’s knocked your captor to the ground and the two of you are aiming the guns at their previous owners. They raise their hands almost immediately. Exactly like the exercise from his youth.

Another half-second, and both of you pull the triggers.

Five stares down at the corpse now lying on the ground. Then he straightens his tie and turns to you.

You’re still pointing the gun at the other target. His frown softens.

“[Y/n].”

Putting a hand on your arm, he notes how you stiffen, snapping out of whatever zone you had been in. You meet his eyes and breathe in sharply, then relax.

“We’re done.” You frame the question as more of a statement as Five takes the former thief’s gun from you.

“For the night,” he affirms, holding your gaze curiously. “You good?”

You wet your lips and tuck your weapon away. “I’m okay,” you eventually reply. He raises an eyebrow; your mouth twitches. “I just – well, you’re taking this whole assassin thing a lot better than I am. Pointing guns and shooting and killing for real, and – and all that pizzazz.”

“I was a member of the Umbrella Academy,” Five points out dryly. “Thirteen more years of formal training and being able to spatial jump gives me somewhat of an advantage.”

“… That’s true.” Still, you seem unsettled. “Five, you’re okay with this? We’re … killing people.”

“No. But we have no other option,” he says. “It’s only until I figure out how to get us back, alright?”

You hesitate, then nod. “Alright.”

The pair of you leave the alley, leaving the targets there to be found by the police. The fact that they had a gun pointed at your head should make him feel better about it. They were already criminals, too. Self-defense instead of cold-blooded “corrections.”

There’s still a bitter taste in his mouth anyway.

“You hold your own pretty well,” he murmurs after a while, trying to distract himself.

You grant him a small, knowing smile. “Thanks,” you say, taking his arm as the pair of you walk the rest of the way to the motel. “I had a good teacher while I was stuck in the ruins of the apocalypse.”

He hums. “Weren’t you lucky?”

Your hand tightens around the sleeve of his tailored suit.

“The luckiest.”

—

He’s going to kill her.

Teeth bared, Five starts toward her, only to stop short when Lila presses the blade harder against your throat.

“Not another step, Five,” she warns him, her grip tightening. “Or you’ll both regret it.”

“She’s not responsible for what happened. I was the one who killed them!”

“But she didn’t stop you, did she?”

Five struggles to control his rage. The knife is sharp and black underneath your jaw, ready to draw blood at a moment’s notice.

You inhale shallowly. “Lila,” you rasp.

“Don’t speak.”

“Look,” Five forces out as evenly as he can, catching the woman’s attention again. He can’t take his eyes off that goddamn knife. Five can almost feel the edge cutting into his own skin. “You wanna blame someone, blame the Handler, alright? She faked the kill order.”

“Bullshit! I saw the kill order. AJ Carmichael ordered it, and you and [Y/n] carried it out.”

“Lila, listen to what I’m telling you, alright? The Handler gave us the kill order. She came on the job, which she’d never done before.” He unclenches his fists with unwilling, trembling fingers. His mind is reeling. “You’re Commission. You know execs never go on jobs, but that day in London, she was there. Ask yourself why –”

“Stop trying to muddy the waters.”

Five swallows, pulse racing. He rips his eyes away from your neck to gauge Lila’s expression. Doubt is beginning to bleed into it, and he manages to keep his tone level.

Focus on completing the picture. No sudden movements.

“Think about it, Lila. It all makes sense.”

Lila’s grip on the knife relaxes by the smallest amount. She hesitates for a moment before speaking. “What?”

“She never cared about your parents. She was looking for you.”

What little is left of her anger melts off Lila’s face. For the first time, the girl looks completely vulnerable. And it’s not a farce.

“Why?” she whispers.

Come on …

“‘Cause you’re one of us.”

Lila whips her head around when Diego cuts through the silence, holding you even more tightly against herself. Five’s gaze snaps back to the knife again and he swears internally.

Dammit, Diego, you better have a plan!

“The Handler stole you, Lila. Just like our asshole father took all of us,” his brother explains carefully.

“No. It’s not the same thing.”

“You’re right. Because he didn’t have our parents murdered.” Diego approaches her, staying low to the ground, hands outstretched. “Listen to me, Lila. You were born October 1, 1989, the same day as all of us.”

The rest of his siblings close in on Lila, slowly, warily. The movement sends her into a panic, and she cuts a little into your neck. You let out half of a gasp and swallow the rest of it, but it’s enough.

Five sees red.

“Get your fucking hands off her!”

“STAY BACK!”

“Five! Back off!” Diego shouts. Chest heaving and blood roaring in his ears, Five looks at him and then at your sweaty, frozen face – and against every fiber of his being, he listens and backs off, glaring venomously as his brother then turns to Lila again. “Lila? Lila, stop. Let her go.”

She turns her head from side to side, knuckles white as she keeps the knife against your throat. “No,” she chokes. “Diego, you don’t understand. They killed my parents. They took my life away from me.”

Five seethes. “For the last time, it was nothing personal –"

“And it was wrong. I know.” Diego’s eyes flit to Five’s, silently reprimanding. “You want to make them pay for what they did. But killing [Y/n]’s not gonna bring your parents back. You know that.”

“It’s not about bringing them back.”

He nods once, softly. “You’re right. It’s about justice. Honoring their memory.” Diego’s voice is gentle. “Trust me, Lila, I get it. I lost someone to the Commission too. She wasn’t family, but she was my friend, and I cared about her. She wasn’t supposed to die. She didn’t deserve to die. But she did.”

As Diego continues talking, Five keeps his guard up on the other side, watching and waiting for a contraction of a muscle, a single forewarning of violence. If another drop of your blood stains that blade, shit, he’ll kill the woman with his own two hands, Diego’s feelings be damned.

Tightening his jaw, Five shifts on his feet as he looks at you. You stare back with calm eyes – just like that night in the alley, but this time, with no signal for him to make a move.

Goddammit, they should’ve gotten you to safety by now!

“… Just think about whether taking another life would honor their memory. [Y/n] deserves a chance to start over, live a peaceful life with people she cares about. And so do you.”

Lila’s trembling. Yet, she refuses to budge. “If it weren’t for her and Five,” she whispers, “I wouldn’t need that second chance. I would have been all alone if Mum hadn’t found me that night.”

“But there’s a reason she found you. She’s using you, Lila. The Handler.”

“You’re wrong. She raised me.” Lila pauses, then asserts, “She loves me.”

“She’s dangerous,” Diego emphasizes. “And you’re scared of what she’ll do with all that new power. That’s why you dragged me to the Commission. Because I know what it’s like to love dangerous people.”

—

“Oh, my.” The Handler puts a hand on his shoulder, hovering behind him. “One hundred and forty-three kills on the simulation? That’s a new record. Very, very good, Five.”

Five bristles at her closeness, but he doesn’t move away, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of unnerving him. “Thanks,” he says tersely.

“Tell me, Five. From what I’ve seen during your training, you’d be a lot more efficient in the field if you were a one-man team. Working alone is when you work best.”

“I’m partnering up with [Y/n].”

“And you’ve filled out the paperwork and everything, I know. I know. But I implore you to think about it logically,” the Handler tells him, leading him down the hallway. “[Y/n] has highly marked assessments, but frankly, they’re nowhere near your level.” She raises her eyebrows at him and blows out a stream of smoke. “Forgive me for assuming, but perhaps this is less about a partnership that would benefit the Commission and more about your personal … relationship.”

Five smiles thinly at her. “With all due respect, we’ve worked together for years. Almost forty years, in fact. I can assure you that our partnership will deliver more than satisfactory results.”

The woman just hums serenely, eyebrows still raised and cigarette holder between her lips as he faces her. Behind her, he sees you approaching.

“Excuse me,” he says politely.

As he sidesteps the Handler to meet you halfway, your shared employer calls out to him, voice ringing through the sparse crowd of Commission drones. “You’re a dangerous man, Five,” she drawls, “and this is a dangerous job. If you want to protect someone, we won’t stop you, but don’t let it endanger this opportunity we’ve so generously provided. To the both of you.”

“Duly noted,” Five replies over his shoulder, walking away with you. He can hear the Handler’s heels click against the floor as she goes on her way as well.

“She’s suspicious about us partnering up, isn’t she?” you ask him lowly.

He frowns. “I would be too if I were her. But we have to stay together.”

“Well.” You reach up to adjust his hat, tilting it slightly. “In any case, I’m pulling my own weight in the field. Just like in the apocalypse. No one-sided protection.”

“[Y/n], this is different from the apocalypse. We’re not dealing with food shortages or bad weather – we’re dealing with people.”

“All the more reason for you to trust me.” Despite your usual controlled tone and mien, he sees the way that your eyes glint. “I’m kinda dangerous myself, Five. Especially for the people I love, and I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Five sighs.

“You’re so sappy, you know that?”

(Nevertheless, he finds himself mumbling those four words, just loud enough for only you to hear.)

—

“Difference is …” Diego glances around at their siblings, then looks down, “they love me back.”

“Shut up.”

“The only thing she loves is power. Now, the minute she can’t use you, she will turn on you, and deep down, I know you know that.”

She tilts the knife against your neck. Five sucks in a breath, his heart pounding.

“You don’t know me, Diego.” Lila’s voice is hoarse.

Diego steps closer. He lifts a hand to cover hers over the knife.

“Don’t I?” he whispers. “I know that we can be your family. If you just let us.”

Lila’s eyes are glossy with unshed tears. Hesitantly, she turns her head to look around at his family, and in that moment, Five has a cautious inkling that Diego’s words actually got through to her. She doesn’t resist when Diego pulls her hand gently.

When she releases you, he almost feels weak with relief.

Five murmurs your name as you stagger over to him; you grab his arms, and he raises his hands to hold your face between them.

“Shit,” he breathes, “[Y/n] –”

“I’m okay,” he hears you say, but his ears are ringing and your skin is cold and shit, your neck – delicately, Five tilts your head back, and you attempt to brush his hands away. “Five, it’s – it’s just a scratch …”

His fingers brush against a wetness on your skin. You wince, almost imperceptibly. He draws back to look at his hand, and when he sees the blood on his fingertips, your blood, the wave of relief crashing onto him abruptly morphs back into rage.

Before you can pull him back, Five lunges at Lila.

Gunshots echo throughout the barn.

—

You’re smiling.

—

He wakes up, gasping for breath.

“Oh, good! You’re still alive,” the Handler says, looming over him. Her lipstick is bright red through the dizzying blurs. “Lucky you. You got to see how this all played out.”

Grappling for air, Five tries to speak – tries to give one last word, to finally tell the damned snake to fuck off as he stares into the barrel of her automatic. But it hurts to breathe and he can’t. Fuck, it hurts. It hurts. His tongue feels like lead and his throat is closed up. All he can do is look.

But before she can pull the trigger, he hears gunfire.

Bullets rend flesh that isn’t his. Five’s eyes widen, stunned; the Handler gasps sharply. She turns. More gunfire.

She falls.

Shit, that could only mean.… Five struggles to lift his head, almost blacking out from the pain as the gunman approaches, crushing straw underfoot. A shadow falls over him.

The Swede silently tilts his gun down at his face, and he realizes: they are both the last ones. Everyone else is dead. The Swede’s brothers. The Handler. Lila. His siblings. You.

This is the end.

(This doesn’t have to be the end.)

… Five blinks, numb.

(You’re the one who got us stuck here.)

Unless …

(Seconds. Not decades.)

Seconds.

His lungs burn. Hope blooms in his chest.

(C’mon, Five.)

Concentrate. Hands clenching sluggishly, Five focuses on gaining back the feeling in them. Seconds, not decades. A familiar, electric buzz thrums through his bones, warm, crackling with energy. His hands begin to glow. Blue envelops them like they had so many times before.

It happens slowly, time reversing itself like molasses oozing back into a jar. The Swede lowers his arm and retreats. Bodies begin to rise. Five feels himself getting pushed up, and his feet touch the ground; he presses forward, running, refusing to look back. The sharp pains recede to a singular ache.

Seconds.

Seconds.

He breaks through behind the barn door with a gasp. Air fills his chest, full and crisp.

Immediately, Five looks back at you and everyone else, standing and breathing, and pats himself just to make sure.

Holy shit.

Spotting movement outside, Five leaps at the Handler just as she walks in, seizing her weapon and turning it on her. His finger curls at the trigger. She raises her hands in surrender, lips pursed.

Got you, you son of a bitch.

“It’s true, isn’t it? What Five said,” he hears Lila ask. He doesn’t dare look away from her mother, meeting her poisonous glare with an equally cold one. “Answer me! Is it true?”

The Handler takes in a breath. “Well –”

Before she can finish her sentence, blood sprays out from her chest. She collapses. Dead.

The Swede. Five stares at her body, gun lowering. There’s a pregnant pause, void of any air – and then in his periphery, Lila shoots forward.

Luther charges after her. “The case!”

“No!”

Diego tackles him to the ground. Lila disappears in a flash of blue.

One dead, one missing. Neither of which are you or his siblings. There might be hope for them yet. Rolling his shoulders, Five turns his attention to the rogue assassin, cocking his gun and pointing it at him. The Swede reciprocates.

Nobody utters a word, for fear that it may be their last. But as Five feels the weight of the automatic in his arms, he wonders, suddenly, just how much he has in common with this man. A forgotten humanity. The death of their families. The force of a person with nothing to lose.

Except in the Swede’s case, he has no chance of gaining back what he had lost.

This is the end.

Five takes his finger off the trigger, then after a brief hesitation, lets go of the gun.

“Enough,” he says.

Nothing happens at first. The only sign that the man heard him is how he looks away from Five, surveying the rest of the barn’s occupants.

Five returns his gaze firmly, muscles tense, when he meets it again. The Swede regards him for another moment, then finally speaks.

“Inte mer.”

He drops his weapon. No more killing.

—

After Vanya helps the kid and calms him down, she goes with him and Sissy to help them pack up. Everyone else exits the barn as well to rest up and say their goodbyes before leaving, save for Diego, who talks to Herb and Dot with you and Five before joining the rest of the group at the house.

As soon as everything seems like it’s on track, Five brings you straight to the bathroom before you can protest.

“Five, it’s just a scratch.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

In a familiar turn of events, you’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, sulking as he cleans the rest of the dried blood from your neck. Five scowls as he inspects the thin, rough scab underneath your jaw. For shit’s sake, it’s more than a ‘scratch’ – but at the very least, the cut wasn’t deep enough to cause too much bleeding.

Obviously, he’d have preferred it if you hadn’t gotten cut at all.

“She could’ve killed you.”

“I know,” you murmur. He glares at you softly, and you reach over to hold his hand. “Sorry for worrying you.”

Five scoffs, shaking his head. “Worrying me? I was damn well past worrying when she –” At that moment, he makes the mistake of seeing the guilt in your eyes, and he sighs. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You shrug quietly as he opens a large Band-Aid. “That I had to do something to keep you safe.”

“At your expense?”

Your miniscule smile changes into a grimace for a split second when he sticks the bandage on, but it returns immediately after. “You would’ve done the same thing, Five.”

All he can retort with is a displeased huff.

Silently, you stand up and turn him around, urging him to sit down this time as you pluck another hand towel from the stack that Vanya had given the two of you. Five sits still, mouth shut and eyes watching, as you start cleaning his face. Your expression is tender. A familiar feeling wells up inside of him.

Suddenly, you chuckle.

“What?”

“It’s just – if I didn’t know any better,” you say, scrubbing at a particularly grimy spot on his cheek, “I’d think that you were a schoolboy that just got into a fight and lost.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, good thing that you do know better, because I obviously would’ve won.”

“Obviously.” Your eyes glint, like they have so many times before.

—

“How bad does it hurt?”

Your hand is soft in his as he glances at his wrist, propped up on a stack of books, then into the small fire burning a few feet away. “Not that much,” he answers. “Thanks for splinting it.”

“Thanks for talking me through it.” You breathe in, head on his shoulder, testing the words on your tongue before you continue. “I was worried. I’m glad it’s feeling better.”

A wrist sprain is nothing to write home about, figuratively speaking. It’s more of an inconvenience than an actual concern; Five figures that the injury will heal in a week, a week and a half at the most. Frankly, he’s more concerned about how much longer it’ll take to complete daily tasks in the meantime.

… You, on the other hand – well, he wonders if you’ve ever gotten anything more than a few cuts and scrapes growing up. The closest he had ever seen you get to panicking was after he fell today, and you’ve been wandering around with him for years.

In a strange way, Five thinks, he was glad for it. He is glad for you. Glad for your presence, your level head. He is glad for the way you hold his hand and talk to him during the day and after dark. And he is glad, secretly, that you want to protect him just like he wants to protect you.

“I love you.”

The words slip out, rough and unbidden.

Five holds his breath when they echo in his ears. You stop tapping your fingers over his skin. Perhaps that’s a bad thing. It was not a mistake, of course, and he isn’t going to take it back, but if that wasn’t what you were saying this whole time – shit. He lets go of your hand, his throat scratchy and strangely closed up.

But then – your fingertips brush his face. He swallows.

“I love you too.”

[themaribatpit]

Hanging by a Thread: Chapter 3

Rated M: DC canon-typical violence, suggestive threats

Author’s Note: Neither of us are actually American, and DC Fanboy has some gripes with certain American habits.  Please feel free to tell us how uncultured we are in the comments, and try and explain yourselves to non-Americans.

Ships: Jason Todd/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Dick Grayson/Barbara Gordon (side ship).

Taglist:

@aespades​, @neakco, @ladybug-182, @seraphichana, @zalladane, @luminous-carrot, @jayjayspixiepop, @cap-noodles, @livelifeauthorstyle, @thepaceperson, @moongoddesskiana, @vroomtaka, @laurcad123,  @prettylittlebutterflie

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4​

Chapter 3

Dick slumped down on a chair when they returned to the Belfry.  He ripped off his domino mask and let out a sigh. “Damn he’s good, then again he was taught by the best.” 

“Dick!” Barbara gave him a dirty look. They both looked towards their French guest to see her still lost in thought. 

Ladybug transformed back to Marinette, and then slowly walked over to get herself another cup of hot chocolate to cheer herself up. As she operated the multi hot drinks machine in the Belfry, she thought about how incredibly convenient the device was. Barbara and Dick mentioned that unless it was winter, no one else used it for hot chocolate. 

Hot chocolate dispensed from the machine, and as she picked up the paper cup, a shadow loomed over her. She was able to make out the silhouette of an imposing figure with demonic pointed ears. She squealed in shock, spilling her hot chocolate on the figure. 

Dick rolled off the chair laughing, “Oh, better fly away home Ladybug.” “How long have you been waiting to use that joke?” Barbara said without looking away from the screen.

“Since the moment I met her, Babs,” Dick retorted.

After the initial shock, Marinette was able to see the figure clearly and realised she just spilled hot chocolate on Batman. The Batman. Marinette paled at what she had done, she fumbled around looking for tissues. All the while apologising profusely as she tried to find anything to wipe the Caped Crusader clean from this chocolatey mess. Her mind ran at a mile a minute, thinking of what Batman would do to her for spilling hot chocolate on him. She thought of how Batman would squish her like a bug, or perhaps he would break all of her limbs, and send her on the first flight back to Paris while tied to the cargo hold. Her mind was catastrophizing and going into a full panic as she stumbled around the kitchenette. 

Marinette found a damp cloth and began wiping Batman vigorously from head to toe and hoping it would somehow lessen her punishment. She looked up to see that Batman continued to stare at her with his infamous glare. Seeing that her attempts to clean up her mess had no effect, she ran back towards the main room and grabbed Dick, holding him in front of her as a shield. 

Batman slowly followed, without saying a word he stomped into the main room and came to a halt right in front of Dick. “Uh, hi.” Dick awkwardly greeted Batman. Marinette shakingly peeked her head out from behind. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, also known as Ladybug.” Batman’s low voice boomed with authority. “What are you doing here in Gotham?” 

Marinette yelped and went back to hiding behind Dick. Barbara interjected, “She’s here to investigate a recent use of the Lazarus Pit, mainly the Red Hood. From what we gather the creatures that give her power were also the ones who created the pits.” She explained on Marinette’s behalf. 

An uncomfortable silence hung in the room as Batman contemplated her answer. “Fine,” he relented. He turned and walked away. 

Marinette released a sigh of relief as she saw Batman leave. Dick took out his phone and began tapping on it, he just had to notify the rest of the Bat Family of what had just transpired. After a few moments he put his phone back in his pocket and walked away, “I’ll get a mop” he yelled back at Marinette and Barbara. 

Marinette then slumped on the dining table, hands in her head. Completely embarrassed at how she made a fool of herself in front of one of the world’s greatest heroes. Barbara calmly patted her back in consolation. After she calmed down and got herself another cup of hot chocolate, Marinette decided to head home.

On the way back to the apartment she shared with Zoe, she checked the messages that Zoe sent her during the past couple of days.  “Hey, are you okay?” The first one read.  “I haven’t seen you in the apartment for a while now,” she said, followed by a message that said “Please don’t be dead, I can’t afford rent by myself.” Marinette sent a quick reply saying, “I’m okay, I’ve just been busy taking care of some things.  See you tonight.” she said. When Marinette got home, she logged onto her computer to see a few messages from Alya, asking her of how she found Gotham City. Expressing worry for her friend, especially with the notoriety of Gotham's crime rate.

Marinette typed up "Hi Alya! Gotham is all right, I can take care of myself, you know that."

Alya decided to video call Marinette and her face appeared on screen. "Hey!" Alya waved her hand to her friend.

"Hi" Marinette gave a tired wave back.

"Everything okay?" Asked Alya.

"Fine, just tired from moving into the new place." She explained.

"By the way, could you open up a portal with Kaalki to my room?" asked Alya.

Marinette complied with her friend, as she put on the horse Miraculous and opened a portal. Soon a paper bag dropped from the ceiling and landed on the floor. "I had a feeling you might want something to cheer you up, I went to your parents' patisserie earlier."

Marinette opened up the bag to see several treats from the bakery.  She thanked her best friend profusely, and began eating them “How are things back in Paris?” Marinette asked, taking a macaron out of one of the boxes, she smiled as she took a bite out of it.  It was almost like she was 13 again, and her dad had given her a box of macarons for the first day of school.  

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Alya said, winking at her. “So, have you met any of Gotham’s vigilantes yet?” Marinette rubbed the back of her neck.  “Well, yeah,” she might as well tell her some of the things that happened.  “I accidentally spilled hot chocolate on Batman’s cape,” she confessed. “And you’re still alive?” Alya’s mouth hung open in shock. “Well, he does have a pretty strict ‘no killing’ policy,” Marinette told her. “Okay fair enough, how are you still in one piece?” Alya asked, still somewhat shocked.

“He just kinda glared at me, and I hid behind one of his sidekicks.” Marinette told her, “So, that’s how.” “Ah so you’ve met the sidekicks then,”  Alya gave her another knowing smile. “Some of them, Nightwing being one of them.” Marinette told her. “Did you get a good look at his assets?”  Alya gave her a wink, and Marinette rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure his assets were spoken for,” Marinette said, and before Alya could say anything more she quickly added “and no, I am not telling you who the lucky person is.” “You’re no fun.” Alya pouted mockingly, but she couldn’t stay angry at her friend.  Alya noticed the faraway look in Marinette’s eyes at that moment, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Marinette wondered how best to phrase it, “do you know anything about the Red Hood?” she asked.

Alya’s eyes widened in shock, “You’ve met him? Are you and Zoe living in his territory?”

“No, at least not that I know of, I just…” Marinette assured her, “Do you know anything about him?” “Give me a moment,” Alya said, quickly turning away to search for something on her laptop screen, “must have heard something about the guy…” she muttered.  Marinette never really told Alya about her soulmate bond, and she wasn’t about to start now.  “Says here he’s a crime lord that operates in Gotham City, that he took over Black Mask’s crime syndicate not too long ago…” Alya told her, “Pretty brutal to those who cross him, by the sound of things.” “Good to know,” Marinette muttered. “Marinette, are you sure you and Zoe are okay?” Alya asked. “We’re fine, just that Ladybug ran into him while working with Batman’s sidekicks.” Marinette told her. “I should have been there, it would have been a fun interview for Ladyblog.” Alya chuckled, and Marinette raised an eyebrow.  “I mean, after the fight of course, or maybe I should just stop talking.” “Try pitching the idea to Vicki Vale or Lois Lane, I’m sure they would jump at the chance.” Marinette joked.

"Just you wait until I get my Journalism degree, I'll bother you everyday for a scoop." Alya retorted. The two of them continued to laugh and joke with one another before Marinette went to bed.

The next morning, Marinette was woken by someone gently nudging her awake.  “Get dressed dummy, we’re going out.” she heard a voice say. Marinette looked up and blinked a few times before Zoe’s face came into view.  “What time is it?” Marinette groaned. “9am,” Zoe told her, “we are going to go out and get some breakfast together.” Marinette groaned in response, but slowly got out of bed.  Zoe leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms and smiling.  She chuckled slightly at the sight of Marinette’s tousled hair, Marinette smiled slightly in response.  “All right, all right, give me some time to get dressed.” she said and Zoe left, closing the door behind her. 

The two friends sat down to eat breakfast at a nearby diner, and Zoe began telling Marinette all the ways in which America was very different from France.  “First of all, they call the 24 hour clock ‘military time’, I never understood that.” she explained before taking a bite of her pancakes.  Americans made pancakes a lot thicker and fluffier compared to crepes, was another thing Marinette noticed.  “Oh, no more 2 hour lunch breaks, and as a French person, you will get made fun of for having more time off work than the Americans.” she said.  

As the two finished breakfast, Zoe paid the bill and left a tip. Marinette raised an eyebrow at Zoe for paying what was higher than the bill. “Marinette, remember, always tip whenever you go eat at a restaurant or a diner.” She explained. 

“Why? Isn’t there a service charge added? Don’t the servers get paid?” Marinette asked.

“Not at all.” Zoe deadpanned. 

“What?” Marinette exclaimed in shock, she quickly covered her mouth as eyes turned to face her for her outburst. 

 Zoe beckoned Marinette to follow her, “Come on, I’ll show you all the hotspots in Gotham City.”

 The two walked out onto the street and across several blocks.  Zoe stopped as the two reached their destination. She then pointed to an old gothic tower, “That there is the old Wayne Tower, creepy isn’t it? Built in 1888 by Cyrus Pinkey for the Waynes right at the heart of Gotham City. It’s been closed for a few years now, since Wayne Enterprise moved to the New Wayne Tower in the financial district.”

 Marinette’s eyes widened in recognition, it was where the Belfry was located. She remembered the gothic tower, but she had no idea it was the old Wayne Tower. She decided it would be best to keep quiet about this revelation. 

 The two continued sightseeing as they ventured into Robinson Park. “This park is amazing, the biggest park in the heart of Gotham. Also it's very close to Gotham U, I’d love to come here everyday after class to unwind.” Zoe explained. The two calmly walked across the park, enjoying the scenery and stopping by to feed some ducks.

 “Anyway I need to get some things on the way back,” the two then walked to a nearby grocery store and bought groceries. Being on a budget, Marinette eyed the price tags frugally, calculating how much it would cost her. Zoe smirked at Marinette, knowing what would come next when the two went to the cash register. Marinette was thrown into a loop as the total amount did not match the price tags. Marinette tried to ask for an explanation from the cashier, but they were not helpful. The cashier only said that it was tax, “Why isn’t tax included in the price tags?” she pleaded to the cashier.

The cashier gave Marinette a light shrug. “That's just the way things are.” 

Marinette pulled her pigtails in frustration as to why the final price doesn’t match the price tag. “Ok fine, what's the tax in America?”

Zoe took the chance to intervene and explain it to her friend. “It depends, it varies between states, counties and even cities.” 

Marinette banged her head against the counter in frustration. “Why? Why is it so crazy here?” 

Zoe and the cashier laughed at Marinette's antics. The cashier asked “You new here?” 

Marinette did not lift her head up, “How could you tell?” 

The two made their purchase and walked home, Marinette had to do a double take on the loaf of bread she bought. She stopped Zoem and said that they needed to go back to the grocery store for another loaf of bread, because this one had expired. Zoe snatched the loaf from Marinette’s hands and took another look. “Nope it's fine, remember America uses Month/Day/Year here.” Zoe explained. Marinette’s eye twitched as the two walked back to their apartment. 

The semester began the following Monday at Gotham University. As a Fashion & Design student, Marinette had long studio classes which usually kept her busy during the day.  She would have to spend even longer hours in the studio if she had a project due.  When Zoe wasn’t attending lectures, she had a part-time job that kept her busy as well.  So Marinette didn’t see much of her by the time she managed to return to their apartment.

Over the course of the next few days, she would go to her classes by day and go out every night to search for her soulmate. However, the Red Hood had proved to be elusive, always alert to the movement of the red thread that tied them together.  Marinette found that the thread changed wildly.  Some nights she stopped by the Belfry, exhausted and dejected. Barbara had noticed this and decided that she had to know about Jason, it might change her mind or it might not. She deserved to know if she was going to go looking for him every night.

One night when she entered the Belfry, Barbara gestured to Marinette, “Come over and pull up a chair.” Marinette followed and brought a chair to the computer. The two sat side by side, “Mari, you deserve to know more about Jason...the Red Hood.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at the mention of her soulmate, “Please tell me more about him.” she begged.

“Marinette, I’m sorry, we knew more about him but we didn’t tell you.” Barbara apologised.

Marinette was hurt at how they were withholding information about her soulmate from her. “Why?” was all that she was able to say.

Barbara took a deep breath, “Because Jason was the second Robin.” 

Marinette’s jaw dropped at this bombshell, her soulmate used to be Robin. It would explain the skills he displayed out in their last encounter. Marinette wondered how tough his life was, how he suffered at the hands of the criminals of Gotham at such a young age. Some of the things he said back at the dockyards were now sounding like they came from experience.  “What was he like?” she asked, wanting to know what her soulmate was like before his death. 

“Angry, rebellious, Jason always felt like it was him against the world. He was caught trying to steal the wheels off the Batmobile, that's how Batman found him and brought him in.” Barbara explained. 

“How did he die?” Marinette asked.

Barbara grew silent at the mention of Jason’s death. “He tried to pursue the Joker, but it was a trap. The Joker caught him, tortured him for god knows how long. I saw his bruises, it-it was as if he was beaten over and over again with a crowbar.” Marinette covered her mouth and her eyes welled with tears as she heard the gruesome details of her soulmate's unfortunate end. 

“To make matters worse, he locked Jason in the room with a bomb.” “What about the Red Hood?” she asked. “We...we buried a mannequin in a wig,” Barbara explained, “the real body was taken by the League of Assassins, trying to make up for what happened.”

Marinette stood up and rushed to the guest room, she had heard enough.  She could not imagine the pain and suffering her soulmate had been through his entire life.

Jason had been constantly on the move, knowing that his soulmate was out looking for him.  He tried to shut off the part of him that wanted to get close.  He was honestly surprised the Bat clan hadn't told her every horrific story they had about him.  Either they didn't know they were soulmates or she was knowingly walking head first into the lion's mouth.  If she didn't find him, then she might stumble upon a group of his men at work, and they might be a lot less forgiving.   If he was constantly checking over his shoulder, making sure the girl wasn't close by, things were bound to start slipping through the cracks.  

He himself had various safehouses scattered around the city, but he couldn't keep running forever.   It was getting ridiculous, he had faced crime lords, assassins and even gone toe-to-toe with Batman multiple times.  Yet here he was, running and hiding from a girl who was about a foot shorter than he was.  He knew why, of course, he wasn't afraid of her but she should be very afraid of him.  He had hoped that she would give up the search, as she drew closer and closer to finding out the truth about what happened to him.  But life had never been that easy for Jason, and sooner or later she was going to get too close to the untamed monster beneath.  If she got hurt because of him, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.  Not even his old self could forgive that.  He would have no trouble protecting her from other criminals, not that she really needed it.  However, whatever came crawling out of the pits was something else.

After putting a swift end to some people who were causing trouble in his territory,  his mind wandered back to Ladybug.  Specifically, the sad look in her eyes when he explained how brutal and unforgiving Gotham could be.  He tried not to think about it, because that look made him want to hold her close, and reassure her that everything would be okay.  Thoughts of how the idea of her gave him hope all those years ago would come bubbling to the surface.  It made him want to protect her, to ensure that this world wouldn’t hurt her the way it hurt him.  When she looked at him with those eyes, it made him want to believe that she trusted him to do just that.  He shook his head, and told himself that what he was also the very thing she needed protecting from.  

Most nights Jason had nightmares about failing to save her.  There were even nightmares where she died by his hands.  Her blue eyes would become lifeless and vacant, her skin would feel ice cold, and he would end up cradling her limp form in his arms.  Batman would just love it if those nightmares came true.  It would only prove to him that Jason was nothing more than an unhinged monster he couldn’t cage.  It wasn’t as though the Bat had much luck caging the real monsters in Gotham anyhow.  Most days, Jason’s skin crawled as he remembered the feeling of the Lazarus pit’s waters.  The creatures she was palling around with were the ones who made it. They probably didn’t give a damn about the evil they had inflicted on the world because of it.   For all he knew, being around her little fairy friends would make the effects much worse.  Still, when he snapped back to reality, he would see the string glowing red, just as it had always done.  Occasionally moving and twitching as his soulmate searched high and low for him. Maybe the time had come to have a little talk, soulmate to soulmate...

[onetwothreefarkle]

I like shiny things (but I'd marry you with paper rings)

Just a soft little proposal fic. 1k. tooth-rotting fluff. written in two sittings, one of which was at 2 AM.

Seb wakes up slowly, with his head buried in his pillow. He’s not sure how early it is, but he knows it’s too early by the chill he feels, even through the blankets. He rolls over, feeling blindly for the warmth of his boyfriend, but is met with empty sheets. He groans, cracking his eyes open just enough to tell that Carlos is indeed nowhere to be found. Unusual, given the early hour, and definitely unwelcome. Seb grunts, forcing himself to sit up. He runs his hand along Carlos’ side of the bed—it’s still somewhat warm, so Carlos hasn’t been up long. Maybe Seb can still convince him to come back to bed. He reluctantly rolls out of bed and shuffles down the short hallway to their kitchen, where he finds Carlos.

Carlos is standing still in the middle of the kitchen. He’s wearing one of Seb’s thick flannel jackets—navy blue with orange stripes. It’s a little baggy on him, and Seb smiles at the sight of it, knowing how Carlos loved to wear his flannels on cold mornings. “They keep me warm,” he always said. “Just like a hug from you.”

“Come back to bed, baby,” Seb says as he reaches his boyfriend. “It’s still early.”

“I—“ Carlos slowly turns around. He hasn’t put his glasses on yet (he won’t until he washes his face), and his hair is curling in wild directions. Seb wants to run a hand through it, but Carlos is still talking. “I was, uh, just going to start the coffee.”

“Coffee can–” Seb cuts off when he finally noticed the small, familiar box in Carlos’ hands, and his stomach drops. “…Wait?”

“I didn’t…” Carlos looks at him with shining, confused eyes. “I just grabbed the—why would you keep this in your pocket?!”

“Good question,” Seb chuckles nervously, his heart suddenly thundering in his chest. “I should’ve known better with how you like to steal my clothes.”

“Is it…” Carlos takes a deep breath. “I mean it’s what I think it is, right?”

Seb nods. “If you think it’s my grandpop’s wedding ring, then, uh. Yeah.” He asked his parents for it the last time they visited the farm. He thought about buying a new ring, something flashier and more Carlos, but in all the memories of his grandparents, he has, this ring is there. It’s catching the summer sunlight in the barn, glinting in the firelight during the winter, cold against his hand when his grandpop adjusted his sticky five-year-old fingers on the piano.

“You’re we’re going to ask me to marry you?” Carlos sniffs. His hands are shaking.

Seb nods again. “That was the plan.”

“Well,” Carlos swallows, and shoves the box into Seb’s hands. “Go on then.”

“What?”

“Ask me.”

“Right now?” Seb blinks. They’re standing next to the sink where last night’s dirty dinner dishes are still soaking and there’s a hole in the toe of the socks he’s wearing, and the light on the coffee maker won’t stop flashing because Carlos never finished starting it. “In the middle of our kitchen? Wearing our pajamas? ” He runs his thumb over the top of the box. “Don’t you want something a little…fancier?”

“I just want you,” his voice comes out breathy and soft.

Seb looks at his boyfriend. Carlos’ brown eyes are wide and warm and there is so much love in them. He takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “Okay. I don’t have much of a speech prepared—“

“It doesn’t matter what you say,” Carlos shakes his head, a smile already pulling at his lips. “It’s us. It’ll be perfect no matter what.”

Seb flushes slightly. There’s so much love in those words, and Seb can hardly believe how lucky he is. “Carlos,” he starts. “You’re insane. And impatient. And ridiculous. I could’ve done this in a nice restaurant, or over a picnic, or literally anywhere other than our kitchen next to some dirty dishes. But that’s what I love about you. You never wait, you never hide, and you never give up–I’m sure no matter how big a fight I put up about this, you would’ve eventually won. Because that’s who you are. And I love you so so much for it. I want to spend the rest of my life just trying to keep up with you.” He drops to one knee and opens the box. Tears are already rolling down both their faces. “Will you—”

“Yes! Yes yes yes yes!”

Carlos surges forward before Seb can make it to his feet and they end up in a pile of the floor, with Carlos on top of Seb, peppering kisses all over his face and neck, before finally capturing his lips. It tastes like salt from their tears and they’re both smiling too wide for it to be a proper kiss, but it doesn’t matter.

“Marry me?” Seb finishes, when Carlos finally pulls back and they both sit up.

Carlos extends his left arm, his hand shaking, and Seb slides the onto his finger. It’s a little loose, and they’ll have to get it resized, but the gold band sparkles beautifully against his tan skin.

“It’s not much,” he says, as Carlos examines the simple band, shifting his hand to see how it catches the light. “But it represents seventy years of marriage. My grandpop never took it off.”

“Sebastian,” Carlos looks at him, brown eyes soft and watery. “It’s perfect. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Seb punctuates his statement with another kiss, this one longer and deeper than the first. Carlos’ hand comes up to cradle Seb’s face, and the cold shock of metal sends a shiver down his spine. They kiss slowly, languidly, neither one willing to pull away too soon and break the moment, no matter how uncomfortable the kitchen floor gets.

“We’re getting married,” Carlos whispers when they finally break apart for oxygen. He rests his forehead against Seb’s. “You’re my fiancé.” Both their eyes are closed, but Seb can hear the giggle in Carlos’ voice.

“We’re getting married,” Seb echoes.

They’re quiet for a long moment, just listening to the sound of their own breathing, of their hearts beating together in perfect time.

It’s Seb who opens his eyes and breaks the moment first. “Can we go back to bed now?”

“That we can.” Carlos pulls himself to his feet, nimble as always, and offers a hand to Seb.

Seb reaches for the coffee maker.

“What are you doing?” Carlos asks, eyebrow raised.

“We should probably turn it off,” Seb shrugs. “I think it’s a fire hazard to leave it on when you’re sleeping.”

"Honey," Carlos smirks. “Who said anything about sleeping?”

[the-shiftshop]

One Touch - Part 2

Inspired by @dark-limbo​​. Might want to check this blog out!

TO VOTE FOR THE POLL FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER, CLICK HERE 

 Today is the day I’ll be free to do whatever I want without thinking about anything else. Mom had allowed me to rest out of town all by myself for a week. Dad had lend me allowance which I can spent on what I had planned for.

Upon arriving to a beach resort, which was like 5 hours away from my hometown, I was feeling a little nervous. Technically, this has been my first vacation alone, away from anyone I know. Having the ability to hypnotize anyone doesn’t come with less worry about what dangers there would be. I may be confident to get anyone I want, I’m still scared that I might get in trouble with things and I wouldn’t be able to get away with it.

Trying to loose up, I just took a deep breath and decided to look around the lobby.

Looking over to the seats to the right near the windows, I’ve noticed this guy staring at me. He looked away after realizing I’m staring back but I know we had eye contact. He had his chest muscles peaking through his shirt and I can’t make myself look away. This guy’s interesting. I’ll come back to him later. But for now, let me drop my things to my room.

After reaching my room on the third floor of the hotel, I had to quickly drop my things and lie down on the bed. To be honest, choosing somewhere far to test my powers is not that important, but I had to make sure I’ll be going somewhere nobody I know lives, and somewhere I can enjoy at the same time. This is just to save from all the trouble of failing and letting everyone I am acquainted with know that I can hypnotize anyone I want.

Lying down the bed, I took a rest for a while. I started thinking of all the possibilities I can do here. Meeting all the men I might find attractive, pulling them in, and finally making them do what I please. All these thoughts are already making me hard, but I might need to save this up for later.

After lying down for a few minutes, only to be more frustrated because of my hard on, I decided to go out for a while and explore the resort.

Just as soon as I walk out to the back of the hotel, there I saw him again, dipping down into the pool. As soon as he descend down, I noticed that he was staring at me once more.

As I stare back at him, I notice him smile and look away. That’s already a hint, or if ever that I’m assuming things, I can always fix things up. Nevertheless, I’m nervous but excited at the same time. My own fun is about to start!

I walked near him as he keep his shoulders under the water.

“Andrei” He said.

“Nice to meet you.” I replied.

“So, you alone?”

He’s already asking if I went here alone. That’s already a big assurance he’s hitting on me.

“Yeah.” I answered.

“I actually saw you come in the resort, and you seem like you’re that type who never had been on vacation without their parents. Is it your first time around here?”

“Damn, you’re great at guessing.” I smiled. “Yup. It’s my first time here. I might need a little bit of company.” I looked at him, hoping he would get me.

“I’m actually with a few friends.” He replied, sounding a little more solemn, “But it wont hurt if I could help you explore around for a few hours.”

His eyes sparked up and it felt like mine too as we stare at each other. I chuckled and squat down in order to be much closer to him. I don’t want to play these mind games anymore, I want to go straight to the point.

“Or we can explore each other in my room.” I teased.

I was expecting him to brighten up more, but it seems like my assumptions were wrong. He furrowed his brows and stared at me, but this time, his eyes were of a different gaze.

“Ah. Sorry man, I don’t swing that way.” His tone of voice changed, slightly sounding disgusted. “I... I just thought that you might’ve need some help since you seemed lost.”

I knew it would turn out this way. Getting fooled by the nice guys. Even my face somewhat contorted to dismay. “I- I’m sorry, man.”

“Sorry, but, just leave.” He began to get out of the pool. I don’t want to cause a fight right now, especially when I just started my vacation. I should act quick.

“No, I mean, sorry. I didn’t mean to. I can still use a bit of-”

“Dude, get out of the way!” He tried to move me away but before I could even back off, my hands found their way to his arms.

Here he was now, in trance of my touch. I fell his shoulders rise as he take a deep breath in, keeping eye contact with me. He wasn’t moving, just frozen in place. I look around to see if anyone is watching. Lucky enough, we’re alone.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“No. I’m mad.” He answered. Monotonous, but you can hear how natural he speaks even under my control.

“No. You’re not mad. You’re happy.” I said.

“Oh. Yeah! I am happy!” He chuckled.

“You’re happy because you finally get to know me, you’ve been longing for me.” I whispered in his ear.

“I’ve been... wanting to know you...”

“Don’t speak a word. Dry off and change your clothes here. After that, follow me to my room.” I commanded.

It was a firm command. He didn’t speak at all. He proceeded to climb up the pool ladder and went to his things. He got his towel and his clothes to change into. He was under my control. He didn’t mind changing his clothes in public. He first took everything off, giving me a clear view of all of him from his muscular back. I want to touch him again right now, but I just let him change his clothes first. He wore his white tank top and his spare red short. Putting all of his things back into his bag, he hanged it over his shoulder and wore his flipflops.

I nodded and started walking back to my room. He followed.

Walking through the hallways was unintentionally nerve-wrecking. The fear that he might look like he’s in trace and other people might get weirded out, or that someone will call his name and since he’s under my command, he can’t talk, but luckily, we have arrived to my room.

I didn’t waste anymore time. I pushed him on the bed and started touching every skin I could. Exploring his whole body while he’s left frozen and unable to talk. I moved a hand to his crotch and gripped on his balls through his shorts. He wasn’t reacting whatsoever, but it took just one command.

“Match with me.”

With that, his hands moved up my back as I hear him give me soft but satisfied moans. I pushed my lips to his and forced my tongue in, which became much easier as he opened his mouth for me. My knee moved up the bed to his crotch as I massage him there with it. Both of my hands slowly took his tank top off, over his shoulders and off his head. He did the same, taking my shirt off. I pulled his face near my chest and he gladly sucked on my nipples.

“A-Ah...” The feeling was sending shivers all over my body. I want more than this. “Suck me off. Make me feel better.”

His hands moved down to my shorts as he try to pull it down. I stood up and let him take it off me. After finally exposing my raging hard on, I moved up the bed, with his legs in between mine, almost as if I can sit down on his lap. He continued kissing my chest, moving down to lick my abs, then finally to my cock. He proceeded putting all of my shaft into my mouth. He pull me closer as he lie down on the bed, my hands supporting myself on the bed while he’s under me, bobbing his head. I thrusted my hips slowly into his mouth. Everything feels so good. I can almost feel myself near my release. He flipped me over, now I am the only lying on the bed while he tries to get rid of his shorts. He pull my leg and aligned my hole to his shaft.

“No!” I exclaimed. “Not yet. I’m not ready.” I said. “I’ll be the one penetrating you.”

He smiled and dropped my legs down. He then moved to my cock, this time him aligning his hole to my shaft. He gave me a long painful grunt as he push himself down to my cock, then back up. I can’t endure seeing his face contort because of the amount of pain he’s having right now, but at the same time I find his hot.

He fell close to my chest, still my cock in his hole. We rolled over so this time I’m above him once more. He had put his arms around me as I thrust my hard on into him, slowly at first, but it wasn’t long until I quickened my pace. I muffled his moans as I pull him for one more kiss. My hand on his nipple while the other is stroking his cock that had been begging for attention.

I broke out kiss as I feel myself nearing climax “Fuck! Fuck! I’m gonna!” I screamed. I thrusted much faster than before until I pull out and came all over his body, spewing all my hot juice all over his muscles. We were left panting on the bed. Andrei, though, still was hard as ever. I still have not managed to make him cum yet so I decided to move back down to suck him off.

Not being able to say words, he keeps moaning and moaning as I explore his cock with my tongue. Bobbing up and down while my tongue pushing on his skin made me realize this might be giving him a lot of pleasure. His hands moved to my hair as he push me more, violently.

Soon, he screamed as he came into my mouth. I gladly swallowed all of it. He came too much though that some of them leaked out of my lips.

I finally pulled his cock out and stared at him while we both pant. For one last time, I moved near him, kissed him and hugged him as we rest.

Later this afternoon, I might need to release him back to his own control, but right now, I’ll just enjoy the skinship while it lasts.

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