#i’m imagining a whole ROOM full of ball pits

[hellsite-hall-of-fame]

y’all if someone doesn’t reach out to me with a huge, well thought-out, and amazingly extensive plan for a Dashcon 2.0 by the time this poll ends i’m going to be so sad lol

just for hypothetical research purposes….

[hunflowers]

okay inspired by dwd suit wearing harry :) enjoy *nose boops*

You haven’t seen Harry in a couple months now. At least not physically, what with guidelines for his new movie and the restrictions of quarantine in general.

Whenever his name does pop up on your phone you can’t hide the smile that breaks out onto your face, especially when it’s a facetime call so you can see him in real time. This day however was a little different. He texted you bright and early -- at least for him because of the time difference -- saying he won’t be able to talk much because a busy day lies ahead of him. A frown nestled into your features at the misfortune, but you replied back with understanding.

Whenever his name does pop up on your phone you can’t hide the smile that breaks out onto your face, especially when it’s a facetime call so you can see him in real time. This day however was a little different. He texted you bright and early -- at least for him because of the time difference -- saying he won’t be able to talk much because a busy day lies ahead of him. A frown nestled into your features at the misfortune, but you replied back with understanding.

It came as a surprise a couple hours later though, when he texted you a picture of himself in a full body mirror, adorned in a caribbean blue suit and a matching striped tie, with the message of Do you like it?

Your mouth dropped at the sight, and you’re pretty sure a bit of saliva slipped past your lips too. His hair was parted in meticulous manner that truly gave him the proper 50s vibe, and his clean shaven face was the true cherry on top that had your heart beating in your chest. You wanted to pull him close, preferably by the tie around his neck, and plaster lipstick stains across his jaw while carding your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly as you rocked your hips together.

You had to close your legs at the wormhole your brain was going into, biting your lip into your mouth as you wished he were next to you. I like it a lot :(

Why the sad face?

Because I want to rip it off of you.

You giggled as you saw the daunting three dots appear then disappear a few times, before he replied with a quick Don’t start. He’s at work, so it’s selfish to rile him up especially when it seems he’s about to shoot his next scene, but you couldn’t stop the wink face you sent back along with:

Can’t stop thinking of me on my knees for you. 

Wouldn’t you like that? 

Unbuttoning your pants and pulling the zipper down with my teeth just like you taught? Leaving the whole suit on as you fuck my mouth? 

Hearing me gagging for you, choking on you as I feel you down my throat.

As much as you think you’re making him suffer, you’ve punished yourself just as badly. You were mindlessly watching your current TV fixation, sipping on a glass of wine, but now all you could think about was him and how he wasn’t by your side to help you out. 

When Harry hadn’t responded for a couple minutes, you had half the mind to shove your hand in your panties and finish the job, and you were about to do it too, but you heard the familiar text tone. You pulled your phone close to you and read his daring message, causing you to bite your lip back into your mouth. 

We’ll finish this later.

But then about an hour or so later you got another text from him, this time a picture of him in a brown suit with another tie to match. He said nothing aside from a teasing smiley face, because he knew the game he was playing. The brown one brought out the color of his eyes more, making you ogle just a little harder than the first, and making you crave him even more.

So, you got up from your spot on the couch and marched up to your room to find something to send back. You searched high and low for something worth your time until you finally found a time-piece. A light blue, see-through babydoll dress that you hadn’t worn since your first anniversary together. It came with a matching light blue thong and lace collar piece that you remember Harry practically frothing over the sight.

You quickly changed into it, and pulled your hair back before stepping closer to the full-length mirror in your closet. You angled yourself in a desirable way, and even brought your free hand’s thumb up to your mouth and nibbled on the tip of it as you snapped the picture. Satisfied with the photo on the fourth try, you sent it with a taunting caption of a typed heart.

He opened your message almost instantaneously, but had left you on read which caused your heart to sink a bit in your chest. But, you attributed it to him being called to set and picked your chin up and waltzed back downstairs in your new attire. You picked up your wine glass and continued with your show, simply waiting.

As time ticked on and your body grew sleepier, you were tempted to call it a night and text him saying you would continue this — whatever this is — tomorrow. But you kept your determination, because you missed your boyfriend and even if he couldn’t touch you, you knew he was going to make you cum. And besides, just when you started doubting him, that’s when he decided to ring you.

You picked up the phone giddily, the connecting ... under his name taunting you before his beautiful face popped up on your screen. You were ready to chirp a greeting at him, excited to talk to him after a long day but he was quicker to the punch.

“Y/N... y’had to send that while I’m working, did ya? Fuck, babe, do you understand how difficult it was to focus on set with that at the back of m’mind?” He ran his ring-less fingers through his shorter hair, and you noticed he was back in his hotel room. That’s a good thing, you thought, now you had no restrictions.

You pouted at him mockingly, “Oh no, you poor thing.”

He blinked at you once, then twice, before stating, “Get up. Let me see you.”

Because you were still downstairs, you trekked back up to your room, going over to the original mirror you took the photo in before flipping the camera around and showcasing yourself. You toyed with the hem of the dress, picking it a bit to give him a better viewing of your panties, to which he groaned in response.

“I’ve missed that little number. Remember the night you wore it? Could hardly walk for days after.”

You let out a breath at the thought, bringing your hand down and slightly grazing your throbbing clit for him to see, just at the mere thought.

He continued, “But that’s why you put it on isn’t it? Because you know it’s my favorite and I’m not there to put my hands on you. You wanted to get back at me for the pictures I sent — which, hardly even compare.”

You nodded your head in response, flipping the camera back around to face you as you stepped out of the closet and onto your bed. “Want you to miss me just as much as I miss you.”

“Oh, baby.... Words can’t describe how much I miss you. Look, I’ll show you how much I miss you,” and then the next thing you know, is he’s flipping the camera around and showing you his very hard cock.

You couldn’t help but moan at the sight, your free hand dipping into your baby blue thong and swiping your dripping folds and circling your wetness across your clit. “Show me how much you miss me too.”

You flipped your camera back around, letting him see your fingers slowly working your clit, hidden beneath the fabric of your panties. He groaned, telling you to give him a closer look, so — as comfortably as you could — you pushed your thong to the side and angled your phone so he had a better view of your soaked pussy.

“Shit Y/N– Push two fingers inside, imagine it’s me doing it,” he told, and you could see his fist beginning to pump his cock at a faster rate, him most likely imagining your smaller hand stroking him just like you usually do. You listened to him, inserting your ring and middle finger inside your wet hole, while keeping the heel of your palm pressed against your sensitive bud.

“Baby... I need you so bad,” you whined, softly hitting your front wall as you curled your fingers, before fastening your movements — like you know he would.

You watched him spread his precum around his shaft, paying extra attention to his tip before he thrusted his hips up into hand. “Ugh- I know baby, I need you too. Just a little while longer. Fuck yourself for me, y’can do that can’t you?”

You hummed back, picking up the pace of your hand, going the extra mile and pushing a third finger inside, causing you to screw your eyes shut in ecstasy.

“Wish it was you fucking me right now. Your big cock inside my tight pussy - shit - you fill me so good.”

You heard him groan at your words, mumbling a quiet ‘keep going,’ because he’s always been a fan of your dirty talk.

“Want your hand around my throat... squeezing me as I squeeze you. Wish you were hitting the spot only you could reach. God, want to feel me stretched around you, leaving me sore for days after you’re done. Do you want that too?” You felt the heat in the pit of your belly begin to stir, your palm pressing harder against your sensitivity.

“Could imagine your face pressed into the mattress as I take you from behind. Your tits in my hands — I miss them. Want m’mouth sucking on you... can’t cum yet, don’t even think about it, Y/N.”

You whined at the restriction, feeling your impending high reaching you. So, you helped him to his quicker. “H, H, H... miss having my lips around you. Love when you mess up my lipstick and it’s smeared all around you, mixed with saliva and cum. Never forget about your balls either, I kiss ‘em and suck on them, give them just the right amount of attention. Know you love when I press my finger into you too, hearing you moan until you’re coming down my throat.”

Back and forth for a few moments all you both could do was moan, wishing the other were by your side as you sent yourself into euphoric oblivion.

“Can I cum now? Please, please,” you begged, rubbing fast circles on your clit.

“So close, babe, so – holy fuck — so close,” he murmured, twisting his wrist and keeping more of his focus on the base of dick now. “G’na cum with me?”

You whispered a ‘yes’ in response, your thighs beginning to shake as your toes curled into the bed sheets. Within seconds, hot lava coursed through your body as flashes of white danced across your eyes, you back arching off the mattress. You could hear Harry hitting his climax, your eyes opening quickly to watch him spray his orgasm all over his fist and stomach. 

You nestled your head into your pillow as you brought the phone back up to your face, your eyes falling close as you let your body relax. Harry turned the camera back to him, getting up from his position to wash himself. You would get up eventually too, but you just laid and calmed yourself in the mean time as you watched him.

“Miss you,” you mumbled, tears threatening to break past your waterline as you wished you could snuggle up to him.

He looked at you, his mouth forming into a pout as you could hear the sink water running from the bathroom. “I know. Just a few more weeks and I’ll be home.”

[obx-paradiseonearth]

The Bet | Rafe Cameron

Hey lovelies, this is my first Rafe Cameron fic and I hope y’all like it! It’s set with him and y/n in university and he’s for sure a bit out of character- no murder in this house he didn’t deserve that shit- but that’s okay because this is fanfiction! Please enjoy loves and let me know what you think!

Description: Rafe Cameron and y/n go to University together and make a bet at the beginning of the year: who can make the other fall in love first. This is the climax of such. 

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

Warnings: SMUT: basic things, oral (female), regular sex, dirty talk (mild?), might be important to note she’s a virgin in this

Word count: 4.9k

Tags: Fluff, Smut, tiny bit of angst at the beginning if you squint super hard

// If heaven and hell had equal say in creating one person, it would be the man with his head between her thighs //

          She sighs, her toes burying themselves in the carpet as her arms reach well past her head in a much needed stretch. Her room is dark, the only light coming from her cheap desk lamp. The pounding in her head, for once, isn’t enough to drown out anything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. None of this was supposed to happen, it wasn’t supposed to get this far. It was always just a game, wasn’t it? She runs a shaky hand through her hair, her knees wobbling slightly at the thought. Get it together, y/n. 

          She pulls the scrunchie from her hair, her muscles coiled tightly, letting it fall around her shoulders wildly. Her skin is burning up under her jumper and she pulls it quickly over her head too, letting it land in a heap at her feet. Slipping her jeans off, and socks too, she reaches up again, only this time to turn the ceiling fan on. It whirls to life quickly and she’s left in nothing but her sticky skin and the black star lace set that he always adored. 

          Him.

          All she can see is his face, and the way his blue eyes would dance up her body if he was here. She can hear the breath he would take. No she can feel it, in her own lungs, swirling cool peppermint in her chest like it’s his own. His touch, light at first, moving slowly downwards, over the hills of her breasts, against the curve of her waist, until finally over-

          No.

          She doesn't want to think about him anymore. She needs to move, do something other than stand here and feel bad for herself. What would her mother think? And her sister? Actually she knows what they would think. They would say, ‘Y/n what have you done?’ No, actually, just her mom would say that. Her face would scrunch up and her nose would do that crinkle thing it always does when she’s disappointed. Which is a lot. Her sister, though, would be firm. Her sister would say, ‘Pick yourself up y/n. Get it together, he is not going to win this one. You do not let a boy do this to you.’ Her sister would be right, like always.

          The problem is she wants to scream. She wants to claw at her throat until all the sounds come pouring out. She wants to rip out her hair and scrub at her skin until she can’t smell anything but iron and fire. Anything but pine and sandalwood and him. She needs the memory of his hands to fade. Fast. But she can still feel his fingers tracing patterns on her back and the urge to scream gets so much stronger. It’s building in the pit of her stomach, the same way it used to, but this time it’s dangerous and angry. It makes an unfamiliar heat run through her veins. Visions of ripping her posters off the wall and smashing her laptop against her desk fill her head. She needs to calm down now.

          This time she does move, towards her bed, and sits on the edge, gripping her sheets with all the strength she has left. Something soft brushes her thigh and she glances down to see a brown shirt. Of course it’s here he must have forgotten it. Despite everything she pulls it over her head and curls into a ball. Just as she thought, it smells like the forest. 

          Sleep comes easier than she thought it would, her eyes fluttering closed in a pine scented sedation. Maybe he’ll come to her in her dreams. At least she can still have that. She lets herself sink a little deeper into her comforter as the pine gets a little stronger. 

         “So this is just it, yeah?” His voice is as slow as honey in the darkness of her room. Great, now she’s hearing his voice in her head. 

          She pushes her head against her bed, ready to let the sleep handle this. Except now there are footsteps, and they get louder, like they’re coming towards her. What the hell is going on.

         She rolls over in time to watch a blurry Rafe walk into her dorm room. Well, more like storm into her dorm room, in all his open-flannel, black-jean fury. It takes no time at all before she feels her feet touch the shag of her carpet again but this time her toes curl in order to keep her upright. 

         When his face comes into focus, he’s less than a foot away from her. “What are you doing here?” 

          Her voice is pure ice but it doesn’t faze him in the slightest. His ocean eyes are black in the darkness. She can feel the heat rolling off him in waves, beckoning her to reach out and touch his burning chest. She has to close her fingers around the hem of the shirt- his shirt- to avoid accidentally doing just that. He’s fuming. 

        “What the hell was that back there?” His voice is slightly louder than before.

        She’s still staring at his chest. “Rafe get out of my room.”

        “Y/n, I’m not asking again, what the fuck was that?” 

        His chest heaves as he takes a breath and her hands itch to reach up and feel his hot skin, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

       She takes a step back. His being so close is making her head spin in dizzying loops. He only follows though, closing the space between them more than it already is, if that’s even possible.

       “You left. After everything I said you just fucking left!” His voice is strong but she doesn't miss the slight crack. It shoots a pain like she’s never felt before through her chest. 

        She can’t help the harshness in her words. “It was a game, Rafe.”

        “We both know it wasn’t, y/n.”

        At his words all the air gets sucked out of her lungs. 

        “You need to go.” It’s no more than a whisper, so quiet she’s not certain she actually said it. 

         She turns away from him, stumbling to lean against the posts of her bed, attempting to remain upright despite how weak her legs feel. She can hear his labored breaths from behind her and she screws her eyes shut, willing him to just walk away before either of them get even more hurt than they already are. Or at least more than she already is. 

         But of course, he wouldn’t be Rafe if he gave up that easily. 

         “Y/n you don’t mean that,” his breath is on the back of her neck and she shivers, trying not to squeeze her thighs together to make it last a little longer, “you can’t resist me and you know it. Just look at what you’re wearing.”

        She spins around quickly, a new rage igniting in her stomach and overpowering everything else in its wake. He’s always so damn arrogant. It makes her want to punch him in the face and maybe split one of his full lips. 

        She throws her arms up in exasperation, not meaning to lift the shirt past her hips. “What the hell do you want from me, Rafe!”

       His eyes lower and he sucks in a harsh breath, just the way she had imagined he would earlier. “Fuck.”

       “Rafe this was your idea! You won. Isn’t that enough for you?” She pulls the material back down, crossing her arms over her chest.

       He continues staring at her legs, greedily taking in every inch of bare skin. The heat between her legs roars to life again. She throws her hair back up, hoping to cool down even slightly. He makes her so damn mad all the time. This was never a good idea. She knew something like this was going to happen but, of course, she had to do it anyway. Stupid y/n. 

         She turns around again and steps away from him, praying he’ll leave. “Just go please.”

         She almost expects it when his hands grab onto her waist but she can’t help the sharp inhale she takes. His hands are life giving, despite everything that’s happened. They could still bring the dead to life again.  

         “You don’t want that, do you?” His words are warm against her now-revealed neck. 

         “It was a game. It wasn’t real, Rafe.” She tries to make her words firm but they come out as soft mewls instead. 

        His nose skims her neck and she knows he can feel her trembling in his grip. “Who are you trying to convince here, y/n, me or yourself?” 

         He plants a burning kiss against her skin- one she knows he has to bend over significantly to do- as his hands move inward, resting on her abdomen in the dip between her hips. She barely stops the moan from tumbling out of her lips. There’s no way she can respond right now or she’ll be done for. She’s seconds away from caving in. 

          One of his hands begins sliding slowly towards her chest and it takes everything she has to not throw her head back against him as her breasts swell in anticipation. His other hand, though, is creeping dangerously close to breaking her resolve. His fingers dance over the top of her panties and ignite every inch of skin he touches. Her ears are ringing so loud they drown out her own panting breaths. She’s a complete and utter mess in his arms. 

         “If you can honestly tell me that this is all a game,” his fingers continue to lower at a tantalizingly slow pace, “then I’ll leave.”

          She can’t help but lean further into his chest as his hand gently squeezes her breast and his thumb rolls over her nipple from over his shirt. She can hear her sigh over the ringing in her ears. The whole floor probably hears it. His other hand quickly finds her and he slides a lazy finger over her aching sex. She doesn't need to hear the moan to know it came out. 

         His voice is honey again, dripping down her spine with every sickly-sweet word. “Fuck, baby, if you can tell me that how wet you are for me right now is just a game then I will leave and you won’t have to see me ever again.”

         His words are the final push it takes to give into him. 

         “Rafe.” His name falls from her lips like a praise.

         As soon as he hears her he spins her around, lifting her with an arm under her butt and a hand gripping the back of her neck. His lips crash onto hers feverishly and she tastes peppermint with a hint of cigarettes, letting it consume the last remaining parts of her that want to deny him. Her legs wrap around his waist, warming from the bare skin of his abdomen. She can feel him against her as she tangles her fingers in his hair, pulling lightly at the roots.

          “Baby,” he moans into her mouth, sending tingles racing to the pit of her stomach, “it was never a fucking game. You've always been mine.”

         He walks her backwards with his mouth latched on her neck, no doubt leaving marks everywhere his tongue traces. He sets her on the edge of her bed, gently pushing her onto her back before shrugging off his flannel and kneeling between her legs on the floor. Even in the faint light she can see his eyes devouring every part of her. He takes his time running his hands up her legs, rubbing small circles wherever he wanders. She props herself up on her elbows, watching him take in all of her. He leans down to kiss the insides of her thighs. 

          If heaven and hell had equal say in creating one person, it would be the man with his head between her thighs.

         “Rafe, please.” she falls back when he moves closer to her covered flesh.

         “What do you want me to do baby,” he looks up at her as he places another kiss to the junction of her thigh, “I need you to tell me what you want.”

          Another moan slips out when his fingers graze over her panties.

          “Y/n, I need to hear you say it.” He sounds like he has all the time in the world. He slips his thumbs into her waistband and pulls ever so slightly.

          “Rafe, fuck, I-” his lips press against her hip bone and her mind scrambles to think of any words that will make even the slightest bit of sense together- “kiss me, fuck, please kiss me Rafe!”

         He looks up at her through his lashes, his hair falling in his face and a beautiful smirk carved on his lips. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

         Before she can process what’s happening he’s pulled the lace fully off her legs and his mouth is over her, his tongue swirling around her sex in agonizingly slow circles. Every nerve in her body sings his praise all at once which is funny considering he’s the one on his knees for her. It takes everything in her to not squeeze her thighs tighter around him if only to make sure he never leaves her. She settles for once again gripping his hair between her fingers. 

         He slips a finger inside her and curls it, pulling another one of the endless moans from her. She raises her hips, trying to get as close to him as she possibly can. She doesn't think she’ll ever be close enough though. They could be the same person and she would still never be close enough to him. His tongue circles her clit and she almost loses it. She never used to know why they explained it like a ball of fire in the pit of your being- like a mini sun exploding within you- until him. 

         “Rafe.” His name tumbles from her mouth of its own accord. 

         His eyes look up to meet her and that’s when the little sun explodes, the most delicious flames consuming her body like they always seem to do when he’s around- only this time a thousand times stronger. 

         He doesn’t stop sucking on her flesh until she’s panting from the overstimulation- her bones nothing but mush- and pulling him from her thighs and on top of her. His bare shoulders are smooth and powerful as he holds himself over her, her fingers crawling over the taut muscles feverently, his hair falling in his face once again. He looks at her in awe, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed- like it was his greatest pleasure to bathe her in ecstacy. She can’t help but pull his face to hers and press her lips against his. That’s all it takes to start the mini sun forming and twisting inside her again. Her lips move to his neck as her hands trace over his panelled stomach and pop the button of his jeans.

          “Fuck, y/n, baby are you sure?” He hisses slightly, sucking in some air as she wraps her hand around him, squeezing lightly. 

          She starts to nod before stopping herself, the words clawing at her throat, “yes Rafe, I’m sure. I need you.”

She’s ready to beg if she has to, her fingers squeezing again, her cheeks heating when he murmurs her name again. She’s never been one for drugs but the way he says her name? Oh, she’s hopelessly addicted.

          He looks at her and for the first time tonight he looks a little unsure of himself. “I don’t want to hurt you, baby.”

          Her heart flutters in her chest at his words. “You have to, please. I don’t want anyone else to do it. Only you.”

         His eyes flash, his hand moving to grab her jaw. “No one else is ever going to fucking touch you, you hear me?”

         She bites back the smile before it takes over her entire face, instead choosing to say the one thing she knows he needs to hear the most right now. Her hands slide over his chest, curling over his strained shoulders and squeezing. She can almost feel her blood running through her veins- thick and hot and determined- as she says it.

          “Rafe I love you.”

          The room is silent for the first time since he walked through the door. It’s nerve wracking, to say the least. His eyes search hers thoroughly- as if trying to decide whether or not she’s telling the truth. His chest heaves, brushing hers with each labored breath. She can honestly say this is the first time she’s ever seen a shocked expression on his face. It’s quite heartbreaking, to be completely honest.

          “What did you say, baby?” His voice is barely a whisper.

          “I said I love you, Rafe Cameron.”

          He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers, “again.”

          Her brows furrow, her heart pounding. Did he not hear her? No, that can’t be right. She hadn’t stuttered, hadn’t fumbled. She was quite clear. Her heart thunders painfully, her chest aching. Does he not want to say it back?

           “Baby, please,” he opens his eyes and she gasps, the shine clear even through the darkness, “I need you to say it again. I need, fuck, I don’t know-”

           Oh. 

          Oh no, no, no. 

          “I love you,” she pushes her hands up his chest and through his hair, tugging him closer to her, a wave of something fierce flooding her body, “I love you, Rafe. I love you so much it hurts.” She presses her lips against his, biting his lip hard before releasing him, her eyes searching his face desperately, “didn’t you hear me earlier? You won! You made me fall in love with you! I am in love with you, Cameron!”

          His mouth falls open slightly and, for a moment, all she can hear again is his panting breaths, wild and hot, like an animal finally set free, “Rafe-”

          He smashes his mouth against hers, cutting off her words and replacing them with her moan- so loud she’s certain it, too, like his lips, could wake the dead. Maybe in a way her moan does. Maybe it slams through Rafe’s ears and veins and bones and makes him feel alive- makes him feel like he has a purpose, even if it’s just to bring her the greatest pleasure of her life. She can’t be sure but if the way their teeth clash together and his hands rub across her skin- like he’s trying to start a fire with his bare hands- are any indication then she could die a happy woman knowing he’s finally alive.

          “I love you.” His tongue slips into her mouth and she groans, the peppermint exploding over her senses again, “I’m in love with you.” His voice is husky- strained from something she knows she wouldn’t be able to understand- and she sighs, her chest welling with an aching longing on he can erase, “have been for way too long.”

          She’s breathless, lost in the way he says the words. It’s like he plucked each word from the sky, fished each one from the sea and pressed each together with only his hands. Each word is special. Stars and pearls and diamonds. I’ve been in love with you for way too long. She’ll never ask him for a necklace or a ring- he just ruined her wanting anything material from him- she’ll only ask that he never stops saying he loves her like it’s the only thing that matters.

          Hearing him say the words makes her light up, a passion burning through her veins that makes her crave an outlet of sinful proportions. She slips her fingers back into his jeans, this time tugging him free and pumping her fist slightly, her mind going fuzzy from how big he feels in her hands. Will this even fit? She swallows thickly, forcing her mind back to his velvety skin. He’s long and hot, searing into her hand as her thumb rolls over his tip, spreading the moisture and pulling a throaty groan from his lips.

          “Fuck, I need you baby,” he mumbles, his hand dragging down her side, his fingers slipping back inside her. 

          He curls his digits again, twisting them hastily, as if desperate to hear her soft moans again. If that’s his goal then he succeeds indefinitely, her core clenching with the slip of his name from her lips. She squeezes her hand around him, breathless from the feeling of him throbbing between her fingers, mirroring the way her body responds to his ministrations. 

          “Rafe, please,” she doesn’t know exactly what she’s begging for but she’s compelled by the way he thrusts into the palm of her hand when she says his name, “fuck me. I need you to fuck me.” 

          Saying the words make her tingle, her skin flushed and yearning. They feel so wrong in her mouth- obscenely so- but she craves the way they make him buck against her, pulling her skin between his teeth and biting. She lifts her legs and pushes her heels against his hips, trying her best to convey how hungry she is to feel completely full- not just with his fingers. Come on, Rafe, please.

          “Yeah, you want me to fuck you baby?” His mouth is on her ear now, his voice low but strong. Her belly squeezes at his words, his tone dripping with sweet torture. His thumb flicks over her clit slowly, his eyes watching every little movement she makes. It’s becoming explicitly clear just how long he’s been waiting for this moment. The thought alone makes her moan. “I can’t hear you baby. Should I fuck you right now?”

          The coil in her belly tightens further and she moans as he removes his fingers, his hand latching on to her hip. Something tells her this is Rafe Cameron at his most restrained self.

          Time for that to change.

          “I want you to fuck me, Rafey,” the nickname slips from her without hesitation, her own way of proving she’s ready for him, her pride swelling when he squeezes her tighter, “right now.”

          That’s all it takes for him to kick his jeans off, jostling her body closer to him. She groans when he runs his tip over her clit, teasing her entrance with the first true glimpses of electricity, her skin crackling and sparking wherever he meets her. By the time he finally lines himself up she feels like she’s seconds away from combusting. The flames licking at her- just barely contained under the surface of her skin- roar when he pushes in the first two inches. 

          She gasps, tasting metal in her mouth, “holy shit, Rafe.” He feels like fire inside her, like he’s burning himself into her, her body igniting from the inside out, “too big. You’re too big.”

          He chuckles and the sound is like water. No, not like water. She’s pretty sure it is water, pouring over all the parts of her that roar when he pulls out and pushes back in a few more inches; soothing her like the ocean lapping at her body on an especially hot day. It’s a fitting notion; him being her ocean. She could drown in his presence. 

          “I promise I’ll fit, baby.” 

          Because you were made for me, she fills the rest in herself.

          With a final push- one that makes her wonder if she’s supposed to taste the flames on her tongue- he bottoms out, stalling as she adjusts to him. She swallows a few times, her mouth going dry from fighting her groans of pain. She doesn’t know when her hands found his shoulders but she doesn’t think about it, she just digs her fingers into his skin, tipping her head back and squeezing her eyes shut.

          “Rafey,” she whines, her voice hoarse in the sudden silence.

          “I know, baby,” he coos back, his lips meeting her jaw and his hand massaging her side.

          The ache subsides slowly- the fire fading from inferno to smolder- and she shifts her hips, trying to find a more comfortable position and- oh.

          Oh holy shit!

          “Oh my god,” she gasps, dragging her hand across his back, sinking her nails into his skin as a wave of white hot pleasure jolts up her spine. 

          She bucks her hips against his- she has to, it feels like magic- her thighs climbing around him, her ankles crossing behind him. He laughs again, his lips brushing over her neck. He pushes one arm under her back, the other hooking around her knee, pulling her closer to him. She moans when he slides slightly inside her, stretching her in a way that makes her see stars.

          “Baby-” she clenches and he hisses- “fuck, I’m taking that as a go ahead,” he murmurs, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back into her heat, “god, you’re so tight baby. So fucking perfect.”

          He pulls out again, pushing back in a touch harder. Her toes curl when he sets a steady rhythm, his shaft meeting depths she didn’t know were possible. Her room fills with the sound of his skin slapping against hers and the little moans she can’t contain, emphasized by his own, softer groans. Every time his hips meet hers she feels that ball of fire- the sun she didn’t know existed inside her- grow a fraction. Soon it’s humming, pulsing in the pit of her stomach and begging to explode.

          Rafe pushes up on his arm, pulling her hips to stay aligned with him as his eyes devour her, his mouth falling open with a groan. The tiny sun squeezes at his hungry expression, the fire behind his eyes feeding the fire growing steadily within her. 

          “You look so pretty baby, wrapped around my cock like that,” she moans, the words fuel to her fire. “Do you like my cock, baby?” Her core squeezes and he bites his lip, his hand digging into her hip. “Someone clearly likes hearing what I have to say but can she speak?”

          Her cheeks flare with heat but the ball of fire only grows once more, “I love your cock, Rafey. It’s-” she gasps he pulls out before slamming back into her, her eyes widening from the tangible pleasure rolling through her- “it’s so good.”

          “That’s better baby. I want this whole building to hear you scream,” he growls out, snapping his hips, “to know you’re mine.” He shifts his thrusts, brushing a spot that makes her gasp, his eyes lighting up dangerously, “got it, baby.”

          “Rafe, what, I don’t under-” 

          “Trust me baby.”

          He pulls her leg up his chest, her ankle hanging from his shoulder as he picks up his thrusts. Her eyes widen as he somehow feels deeper, brushing a spot that makes her whine. He slams into her relentlessly, his fingers dancing down her leg until they find her clit, pressing down gently and circling. She moans- louder than all her other moans before- and shivers as the tiny sun pulses, the familiar feeling of ecstasy creeping over her bones again. She digs her heel into his shoulder, biting her lip and twisting her fingers in her sheets.

          “Oh fuck,” she gasps, her voice strangled.

          “That’s it baby,” Rafe encourages, his movements becoming sloppier, “louder.”

          He presses his fingers harder, his hips jutting precisely into her and all of a sudden the mini sun enters supernova, the coil in her belly snapping as her muscles squeeze deliciously, “Rafe!”

          He thrusts into her a few more times before tensing, his head thrown back with a choked moan. The sight alone is enough to make her want to do it all again but combined with the feeling of him twitching inside her, the warmth blossoming alongside his release, it’s dangerous- if she wasn’t before, she’s now painfully addicted to Rafe Cameron.

          He falls beside her, pulling out with a final, shared hiss. She reaches for him automatically, craving the feeling of his arms around her and his pine tree scent, now marred with the aroma of their actions. Her whole body still buzzes slightly but her limbs are weighed down with sleep, the fatigue wrapping around her bones and tugging. He pulls her against his chest, his hands sliding up and down her back, his fingers pressing into her muscles. 

          “That feels nice,” she murmurs, her voice sounding far away from her as she tries hard to chase away the blackness nipping at her vision, “I’m so sleepy now.”

          He presses his lips against her forehead, laughing lightly, “don’t fight it baby.” His voice is like a lullabye, soft and slow, pushing her closer to the brink of unconsciousness, “you’re about to have the best sleep of your damn life.”

          She hums, her eyes now closed and her face pressed against his arm, her fingers curled around his bicep, “love you, Rafey.”

          If her eyes were open she would see the way he smiles at her- the way he can’t wipe the grin off his face for fifteen minutes- and she would smile too. Her eyes aren’t open, though, so instead she has to make due with his words.

          “I love you, y/n.”

          It’s not a bad compromise. 

          The last thought the flits through her mind before she caves to the sweet call of post sex sleep is one that she tells herself she has to make sure to tell Rafe in the morning. It’s important. 

          She needs to tell him that she won.

[spxllcxstxr]

The Seven Potters Plan Part 1 • R.L

(Gif not mine)

Request: Nope, just wanted to torture myself with this idea :)

Summary: Harry Potter needs to be relocated from his house in Surrey to the Burrow, however, because he’s not quite seventeen yet, he still has the Trace. Your father, Mad-Eye Moody, comes up with a Plan B. Here’s how it goes.

Warnings: canon character death, canon Deathly Hallows, cursing, death, grieving, mention of injury and blood, death eaters, Voldemort, just a lot of hurt/angst

Word Count: 2.6k

A.N: So the first like 1k words are taken straight from the book. Why? Because I’m a sucker for that kind of stuff. Implied that you’re Remus’ age, the two of you are married, why do I think of these things? I’m like 99% sure I made this gender neutral? But if I didn’t like let me know. I know this is angsty, but I hope you all enjoy. Love you all ❤️

EDIT: So the full fic exceeded 250 word blocks, which is shit because this is not meant to be split up. Meaning, the ending is abrupt because I had to split the whole thing. This is fucking stupid, but whatever. Please don’t forget to read Part 2 for the whole story

****

“All right, all right, we’ll have time for a cozy catch up later!” Your father roars from beside you, cutting off Harry’s conversation with Tonks.

A silence falls over the kitchen, everyone staring uneasily in his direction. You tinker with the zipper on your jacket, nervous about the next few hours.

“As Dedulus probably told you,” He continues, one eye glaring at Harry, the other rolling around in its restraint. “we had to abandon Plan A. Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He’s made it an imprisonable offense to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here, or Apparate in or out.” You watch his knuckles turn white, the grip on his staff tightening in anger. “All done in the name of your protection, to prevent You-Know-Who getting in at you. Absolutely pointless, seeing as your mother’s charm does that already. What he’s really done is to stop you from getting out of here safely.”

Harry’s lips tug into a frown.

“Second problem: you’re underage, which means you’ve still got the Trace on you.”

Harry glances around the room, dark eyebrows knit together in confusion. “I don’t—“

“The Trace, the Trace!” Mad-Eye continues impatiently. “The charm that detects magical activity around under-seventeens, the way the Ministry finds out about underage magic! If you, or anyone around you, casts a spell to get you out of here, Thicknesse is going to know about it, and so will the Death Eaters.”

You swallow roughly at the mere thought of being swarmed by Death Eaters unprepared.

A calloused hand grabs yours, and just by the feel you recognize it at Remus’. His hand is warm and comforting in your grasp.

“We can’t wait for the Trace to break, because the moment you turn seventeen you’ll lose all the protection your mother gave you. In short: Pius Thicknesse thinks he’s got you cornered good and proper.”

“So what are we going to do?” Harry questions, his determined tone hiding fragility behind his words.

“We’re going to use the only means of transport left to us, the only ones the Trace can’t detect, because we don’t need to cast spells to use them: brooms, thestrals, and Hagrid’s motorbike.” You father answers gruffly.

You squeeze your husband’s hand hard as you shift around. You hated this plan. It left you all open and vulnerable, and the pit in your stomach was screaming at you that something bad was going to happen. But it was, in reality, the only way to safely get Harry away from his house.

A skeptical look flashes across Harry’s face as well, though he doesn’t say anything.

“Now, your mother’s charm will only break under two conditions: when you come of age, or“—Mad-Eye makes a head gesture around the kitchen, his pockets jingling.—“you no longer call this place home. You and your aunt and uncle are going your separate ways tonight. In the full understanding that you’re never going to live together again, correct?”

He nods.

“So this time, when you leave, there’ll be no going back, and the charm will break the moment you’re outside it’s range. We’re choosing to break it early, because the alternative is waiting for You-Know-Who to come and grab you the moment you turn seventeen.”

The cool metal zipper is still between your fingers, a distraction from all of the grim looks around the room.

“The one thing we’ve got on our side is that You-Know-Who doesn’t know we’re moving you tonight.” Mad-Eye informs him. “We’ve leaked a fake trail to the Ministry: they think you’re not leaving until the thirtieth. However, this is You-Know-Who we’re dealing with, so we can’t just rely on him getting the date wrong; he’s bound to have a couple of Death Eaters patrolling the skies in this general area, just in case.”

You swallow roughly at the thought.

“So, we’ve given a dozen different houses every protection we can throw at them. They all look like they could be the place we’re going to hide you, they’ve all got some connection with the Order: my house, Kingley’s place, (Y/n) and Lupin’s, Molly’s Auntie Murial’s—you get the idea.”

“Yeah.” Harry responds, nodding once again.

“You’ll be going to Tonk’s parents.” You father goes on to explain. “Once you’re within the boundaries of the protective enchantments we’ve put on their house, you’ll be able to use a Portkey to the Burrow. Any questions?”

“Er—yes.” Harry stutters. “Maybe they won’t know which of the twelve safe houses I’m heading for at first, but won’t it be sort of obvious once”—he starts counting the heads around him—“fifteen of you fly off toward Tonk’s parents’?”

“Ah,” You scoff. “And here’s the kicker.”

Harry looks at you with a frown. Your father lightly jabs you with his staff.

“I forgot to mention the key point.” Mad-Eye scowls. “Fifteen of us won’t be flying to Tonk’s parents’s. There will be seven Harry Potters moving through the skies tonight, each of them with a companion, each pair heading for a different safe house.” He takes out his old flask from the inside pocket of his jacket.

“I hate this plan.” You mutter under your breath. Remus’ fingers trace figure eights between your knuckles.

“No!” Harry loudly protests. “No way!” His hands are balled into fists as he frantically looks at all of you surrounding him.

“I told you he’d take it like this.” Hermione lightly points out.

“If you think I’m going to let six people risk their lives—!“

“—because it’s the first time for all of us.” Ron rolls his eyes at his friend.

“This is different, pretending to be me—“

“Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry.” One of the twins jokes. “Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny, gits forever.”

Harry doesn’t smile but the other twin lets out a snort.

“You can’t do it if I don’t cooperate, you need me to give you some hair.” Harry stubbornly tells you all.

“Well, that’s the plan scuppered.” One twin dramatically sighs. “Obviously there’s no chance at all of us getting a bit of your hair unless you cooperate.”

“Yeah, fourteen of us against one bloke who’s not allowed to use magic; we’ve got no chance!” The other teases.

“Funny.” Harry sarcastically remarks. “Very funny.”

“If it has to come to force, then it will.” Mad-Eye growls.

“Dad!” You yelp, the idea of piling on top of this kid just to get a strand of hair repulsive to you.

Your father glances at you, face softening, though only slightly. You’re probably the only one who notices. The perks of growing up with him, you guess.

“Everyone here’s overage, Potter, and they’re all prepared to take the risk.”

Taking a deep breath, you focus back on your anchor. Remus’ hand is honestly the only thing keeping you from succumbing to a total breakdown.

“Let’s have no more arguments! Time’s wearing on. I want a few of your hairs, boy, now.”

“But this is mad!” Harry laughs humorlessly. “There’s no need—“

“No need!” You dad snarls. “With You-Know-Who out there and half the Ministry on his side? Potter, if we’re lucky, he’ll have swallowed the fake bait and he’ll be planning to ambush you on the thirtieth, but he’d be mad not to have a Death Eater or two keeping an eye out, it’s what I’d do. They might not be able to get at you or this house while your mother’s charm holds, but it’s about to break and they know the rough position of this place. Our only chance is to use decoys. Even You-Know-Who can’t split himself into seven.”

You let out a sigh, watching as he quickly glances at his friends.

“So, Potter—some of your hair, if you please.”

Still, he’s hesitant.

“Now!” Your dad barks, causing Harry to jump ever so slightly.

Silently, Harry brings a hand up to the top of his head and yanks at his hair as hard as he can, effectively pulling tufts of hair out. He barely even winces.

“Good.” Mad-Eye limps over to him, his prosthetic clanging against the white tiles. He waves the flask in front of him. “Straight in here, if you please.”

He drops them in and as the potion bubbles and sizzles, Ron and Hermione take a glance over his shoulders.

“Right then, all the fake Potters line up over here, then.” Mad-Eye grunts.

Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Fleur casually line up in the kitchen like they aren’t participating in something that might just kill them.

You also notice someone missing.

“We’re one short.” Remus observes.

“Here.” Hagrid grunts, shoving his way through, practically dragging Mundungus by the collar of his brown and dirty robes. He’s placed next to Fleur, who promptly shifts to stand between the twins. You don’t blame her.

“I told you,” Mundungus complains. “I’d sooner be a protector.”

“Shut it.” Mad-Eye growls. “As I’ve already told you, you spineless worm, any Death Eater we run into will be aiming to capture Potter, not kill him. Dumbledore always said You-Know-Who would want to finish Potter in person. It’ll be the protectors who have got the most to worry about, the Death Eaters’ll want to kill them.”

A cold chill runs down your spine. You were to be paired with another protector, mostly because your dad wanted you to be protected as well as the Potter you were guarding. In any other situation you would’ve argued against it, that you were more than capable of handling it all on your own, but this was different. You were absolutely terrified of being on your own.

It’s quiet as Mad-Eye pours the Polyjuice Potion into separate glasses. When the six of them drink the space is filled with gags and gasps as they morph into Harry Potter.

The Harry’s being to change, but you’re too caught up in your own thoughts to pay attention to any witty remarks. Anxiety courses through your veins and your foot taps against the floor.

When all of them are done, Mad-Eye starts announcing the pairs.

“The pairs will be as follows.” He declares, one eyes trained in the parchment in front of him, the other gazing at everyone. “Mundungus will be traveling with me by broom—“

“Why am I with you?” Demands a Harry in the back.

“Because you’re the one that needs watching!” You shout, glaring at the form that now backs away.

“Arthur and Fred—“

“I’m George!” Laughs one of the Harry’s. “Can’t even tell us apart when we’re Harry!”

“Sorry, George—“

“I’m only yanking your wand, I’m Fred really—“

“Enough messing around!” Mad-Eye growls. “The other one—Fred or George or whoever you are—you’re with Remus.”

You bump shoulders with the man next to you.

“Miss Delacour—“

“I’m taking Fleur on a thestral.” Bill interjects. “She’s not that fond of brooms.”

“Miss Granger with Kingsley and (Y/n), again on a thestral—“

Hermione smiles warmly at you and Kingsley, though it’s actually Harry’s crooked grin.

You aren’t surprised with who your father’s paired you with, Kingsley was honestly the only person he trusted with his life. He felt safest with the two of you together. And Hermione was resourceful as well, making the three of you probably the best team.

“Which leaves you and me, Ron!” Tonk’s cheers, hair fluctuating between pink and orange.

Ron, however, doesn’t look too pleased with the setup.

Harry and Hagrid are of course paired up together on his motorbike.

“I make it three minutes until we’re supposed to leave.” Your father grunts, glancing at his pocket watch. “No point locking the back door, it won’t keep the Death Eaters out when they come looking...come on...”

You turn to Remus, eyes suddenly brimming with tears. The lump in your throat makes it hard to breathe.

“You stay safe, alright?” You whisper, voice cracking.

“Hey, look at me, love.” He utters softly. A finger rests on the bottom of your chin, faces close together. Reluctantly you bring your gaze up to his own honey brown ones, shining with unshed tears. “We’ll be alright, yeah? We’ll be fine.” He tried his best to be convincing, he really does, but it falls flat.

Whatever movement is happening around you fades away.

“I love you, Remus.” You force out almost breathlessly. You might tell him this everyday but he needs to know. He needs to understand it.

“I love you, (Y/n).” He kisses you, lips chapped against your own, but it doesn’t even matter. “I’ll see you soon.”

Hesitantly, the two of you part, him to one of the twins and you to your father.

While everyone else is preparing and saying possibly their final words, your father stands alone, surveying the space.

“Let me have a look at you, yeah?” He grunts, eyes raking over your figure as you approach. “Just like your mother.”

“Mum probably would’ve thought this was a stupid idea too.” You attempt to joke.

You father rests his heavy hands on your shoulders, the weight oddly comforting.

“Yeah well, she thought all my plans were stupid.” He mutters. “She’d be proud, y’know? Fighting for what’s right.”

Your lip trembles which your father notices immediately.

“Oh, c’mere.” He wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in a rare hug.

Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody was the best Auror out there with a tough exterior that frightened most to death, but he was always a soft and caring father when it came to you.

“Don’t cry, (Y/n), hm?” His scruffy chin rests on top of your head. “I love ya, I know I don’t say it too often, but I do. I’m so proud...” His own gruff voice catches at the end.

“I love you too, dad.” You sniff, pulling away and wiping your eyes with your sleeves. “You’ll be alright with Mundungus?”

“Eh, the little bastard’s harmless.” He shrugs, trying to wipe his own eye quickly. “If you don’t come back in one piece, Kingsley’ll never see the light of day, though.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” You chuckle.

Mad-Eye glances at his watch. “Damnit.” He mutters. “We’ve got to go. Stay safe, (Y/n).”

“You too, dad.” You reply, making your way to Hermione and Kingsley at your ride.

Your thestral is dark and practically skin and bone like usual. Being in two iterations of the Order of the Phoenix has unfortunately granted you to see threstrals in all their hauntingly beautiful glory.

“Good luck, everyone!” Mad-Eye shouts. “See you all in about an hour at the Burrow! On the count of three. One...two...THREE!”

You hang on tightly to the Harry in front of you, Kingsley guiding the animal to soar into the night sky, the wind almost taking your breath away. You have your wand at the ready, pointing into the void.

Hands shake both from the cold atmosphere and the nerves running through you.

All you do is blink, and five hooded figures have you surrounded, deathly close to you.

“We’ve got company!” You shout over the roaring wind.

You and Hermione fire off spells, Kingsley trying to multitask, but getting away from the cloaked figures was a bit more important.

The two of you try to dodge the best you can, but it’s hard when you’re sitting on the back of a horse.

You don’t know what you cast in the moment, but your body seizes and suddenly one drops like an anvil to the ground below.

The bone chilling feeling of death overtakes you and You-Know-Who, shrouded in a black cloak, quickly rushes past the three of you.

The battle seems like it lasts forever, the back and forth of spells almost unbearable, but eventually you make it to your meeting point, completely exhausted.

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco @mullthingsoverinthehotwater

[wandsandwheezes]

I'd die for you. | G.W

TW // major character death(s), angst, general sadness, love, mentions of blood, death and sadness.

I would like to apologise in advance for this one, it has taken me two full days of tears and breaking my own god damn heart.

Let me know if you want to be on the taglist my loves💞

@witch-and-a-half @weasleysflowr @wand3ringr0s3 @hufflepuffgirly

Never make a promise you don't intend to keep. That's what my mum always taught me, so in the lead up to the Seven Potters I promised George that even against my best judgements, I'd stay back at the burrow and wait for his arrival.

"If you keep biting those nails, you'll have none left, dear!" Molly said, sitting next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders "Before you know it, they'll all be walking through that doo-" A loud splash echos around the quiet surroundings of the countryside, causing Ginny to jump from the chair and run outside, greeting Harry and Hagrid on their arrival. All too quickly I hear Lupin's voice yelling, causing everyone to look in the direction of his voice. My heart fell to the pit of my stomach.

My mind went blank in the next few moments, I was stood there watching Lupin carry the weak and limp body of love of my life into the confines of the Burrow. Ginny grabs my hand, pulling me inside when she notices that I hadn't moved an inch. I thanked Merlin that he was still breathing, but the blood rushing from his ear made me question how he wasn't unconscious.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." he jokes, feigning a small smile at me as he reaches for my hand, which I let him take, dropping to kneel by his side. My other hand reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes.

"George, you never cease to amaze me how you can still be smiling when you've lost an ear," he squeezes my hand tightly, almost to check I was still there, "who am I if I can't even make the woman I love smile?"

I press a small kiss to his hand, giving him a reassuring smile. I feel a hand on my shoulder, looking up to see Fred staring down at me, he moves to join me beside his brother, "How're you feeling, Georgie?" George takes a deep breath before speaking up.

"Saint like," he smiles, I look to Fred, who has a worry in his eye, I give him a reassuring look as I give George's hand a squeeze, "Come again?" George lets go of my hand, straining to reach up and point at his own ear "I'm holey, get it Fred?"

"The whole wide world of ear related humor and you go for 'I'm holey'... It's pathetic" The twin smiles, looking down at his hands that sat nicely in his lap, "Recon I'm still better looking than you, at least Y/N still thinks so, right angel?" I smile nodding as a small blush rises to my cheeks, I lean in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, earning a small but weak smile from him.

After about 10 minutes of arguing over who would clean up George's ear, I convince Molly that I was more than happy to take care of her son, especially as I've been patching the twins up after any and all mishaps at the shop. She obliges, despite her motherly instincts kicking in, helping me guide George into the bathroom. We seat him ontop of the toilet seat, nestling between his legs as I gently dab a warm cloth over the side of his face, clearing away all of the blood. I find myself taking in every freckle, every little scar on his face, the way his cheeks were so full and how he was just so perfect, making me realise how much I loved him.

"How did I ever get so lucky?" he smiles up at me, his hands holding onto the backs of my thighs, as my hand holds his chin in place, starting the task of cleaning the blood from his ear. I try to make sureBeing careful to be more gentle every time he winces. "If you're lucky, Georgie, imagine how I feel waking up to you every morning."

"Promise me something," I push back his hair so that it's out of the area, grabbing some antiseptic. "If it's that the antiseptic won't hurt, then there's nothing I can do my love, just bite down on this." I give him a towel which he places between his teeth. The sounds he made as the alcohol cleaned his wound broke my heart, but it was in his best interest. I pull out my wand, casting a small spell to deal with the stitches while he's still biting down on the cloth, causing him to groan again, but this time it was more of a wince then full on cries of pain. I wrap a bandage around his head, holding some gauze in place to help with the bleeding.

"If I didn't love you so much, I'd be swearing this house down by now," he says, pulling the cloth from between his teeth, I reach to wipe away his stray tears that linger under his eyes and on his cheeks. "Now my love, what am I promising you?"

He goes to stand up, quickly deciding against it as he sits back down. I take his hands again, rubbing my thumbs across the back of his hands, he pasuses for a moment, almost as if he's unsure of what he's about to ask, however the grin that he pulls his lips into dispells any worry. "I want you to promise me that you'll still love me with one ear."

"Georgie, I'd die for you, regardless how many ears you may or may not have, you're the love of my life." I laugh, leaning down to finally press a kiss to his lips, moving one of his hands to the small of my back and tgr other to the back of my head, keeping me pulled into the kiss for a little longer.

The next few months were weird and uncertain, Diagon Alley becoming quieter and quieter, I begged George to move back to the Burrow so that we'd be out of the madness and true to his word we did, Molly helping me work with him on his sickness and growing vertigo. Harry, Ron and Hermione were off hunting horcruxes and every morning I got a gut feeling that things were going to get worse.

Beams of Green and Red were flying all around me as I ran through the corridors of hogwarts. The sounds of crying, screaming and yelling were all I could hear. A head of firey red hair, pops around the wall which I spot out of the corner of my eye, he was fighting off Death eaters like it was nothing when suddenly he's thrown to the floor, his wand flying from his hand. I'm trying to run towards him but I feel like I can't move, every muscle in my body is resisting.

"Avada Kedavra!" suddenly the body of the man I love goes lifeless before me, I scream at the top of my lungs, my body finally giving in as I collape at his side, wailing from the pit of my stomach.

"no, no, no... Wake up! Please wake up, My love, just open-" "your eyes, shh, it's okay, I'm here, it's just a dream, baby." my tear stained cheeks, and small shallow breaths were enough for George to realise that it wasn't a normal dream, the protective part of him pulling me into his arms, rocking me gently as he coos my sobs, which grow less and less violent as I'm brought back to reality

"I'm sorry." I whisper as his hand plays with my hair, soothing me to a point where I can finally breathe again, "don't be, when you screamed like that i thought something was happening to you, I swear whatever was hurting you like that I'd take the brunt, I'd die for you, my angel."

"Don't say that." I breathe, shaking my head as I press a soft kiss to his jaw, "no dying, not for me, Georgie." he holds me tighter, leaning down to connect our lips in a soft kiss. "no dying, got it."

I hadn't seen George in a month, we decided that with the death eaters still roaming the streets, it would be better if we both went into hiding. My aunt, who has two witches herself, was keeping me safe, telling her girls to stay in Australia for their own safety. I hear a small knock on the door, Aunt Melinda poking her head into the room.

"This just came inside one of my letters, it's for you, darling." I smile at her, taking the letter gratefully, I recognise the handwriting immediately, opening up the envelope to a gorgeous hand-written letter.

To My Angel,

Merlin, I miss you. Dad told me about how the whole muggle mail thing works and I think I enjoy it more than mail by owl. I think personally that it was a stroke of genius to write to you like this because I know theres no way that the death eaters will go looking through muggle mail.

I want nothing more than to hear your voice again, to touch your skin, feel you next to me when I wake. Oh, Speaking of sleep, how are your nightmares? I don't sleep much these days so I hope you're resting better than I am.

Dad says the order has been checking on the house and the shop regularly, they think the burrow will be safe again soon, I hope you'll join the family and I because I have something I need to ask you and I don't want to do it over a letter.

I love you always and forever.

Georgie

I hold the letter close to my heart, longing to feel his presense again. The nightmares haven't been getting any better, no matter what I do, I don't get to him in time and I have to watch him die in front of me over and over again, knowing that I could've saved him. A wave of pain and sadness washes over me as I curl myself into a ball, under the covers, praying that the duvet becomes his arms and that I don't fall asleep to see his lifeless eyes again.

Two months later, finally stood in each other's arms, kissing again in the room where it all started for us. For a moment I'm taken back to Dumbledore's Army and the hours George and I spent as we snuck into the room of requirement, him helping me perfect my patronus, giving me the happiest memory of all when he kissed me for the first time.

We stood by the window, away from everybody, talking and making up for lost time, holding onto me like he wouldn't ever let go again, every time I looked at him, I was smiling, my heart doing backflips.

"I wanted to ask you this before it all gets crazy," he smiles taking both of my hands as he gets down on one knee, pulling out a ring from his pocket. "I was going to ask you when you were mending my ear, I wish I didn't catch myself out and that I'd asked you then and there because being away from you made me realise that I can't spend another day without you, I love you so much, you're the best thing to have ever happened to me so I want to make us last forever, that's if you still love me, even with one ear."

I giggle, taking the ring and slipping it onto my finger as I nod frantically. I wanted nothing more than to be with George forever, even if he only had one ear.

I don't think any of us realised we were fighting a war until the bodies of people we cared about started to pile around us. I was fighing for everything I had, until I couldn't breathe, a sense of dread washing over me when I realised I'd been fighting alone. I was running around the castle and everything felt like slow motion. That was until I stumbled into the great hall and suddenly time felt real again.

Ginny was holding me back from stepping closer to any of the family, I caught a glimpse of the redheaded boy who looked to be asleep on the floor, his twin sobbing next to him as the family wept. "It's freddie, Y/N" she whispers, "Fred's gone."

Every wail and sob from every nightmare came back to me at once, pushing past Hermione to wrap my arms around George, letting him cry into my arms, and there we stay for as long as he needed.

When It felt like it was all over, we believed Harry was Dead, that this was the end, that everything we had worked for was short lived. I cried into George's shoulder, hugging his side, it felt like a part of all of us had gone. So when Harry reveals himself to truly be alive we were all in a state of shock, moving as one to finish what was started if not for us then for those we lost.

The fight was not over. Beams of Green and Red were flying all around me as I ran through the corridors. The sounds of crying, screaming and yelling were all I could hear. It's like I'd done this a thousand times. I saw the man I loved, from the corner of my eye, he was fighting off Death eaters like it was nothing, when suddenly he's thrown to the floor, his wand flying from his hand. I realised, I had done this before. It was all de ja vu and before I could think, I run and jump in front of the spell that was meant for him, taking it with the full force of my body.

The next few moments felt like no time at all, like both nothing and forever. He held my body in his arms as I reach up to press my hand against his cheek, feeling the last of my life slip away from me, "I love you, George, even if you do only have one ear."

Never make a promise you don't intend to keep. When I told George I would die for him, I truly meant it. When I told him I'd love him forever I meant it. I continued on with him for years, watching him heal and mourn Fred and I. The thing that hurt the most was hearing him still talk to me, like he feels me there, "I made your favourite, mum's cinnamon rolls, she doesn't make them much anymore, I don't think she will without your help." he smiles down at his plate, pulling the roll in half, before letting out a deep breath, placing the other half down and sliding it across the table.

I'm hugging him but he can't feel me there, I'm there every night, curled up next to him but he doesn't feel me hold his cheek anymore. He's sat in the dark, tears rolling down his cheeks, "I know you're here, I can feel you with me but not Freddie." he wipes away his tears, pulling a pillow into his chest. "I hope he's okay, would've been nice of him to leave me one of his ears, it's not like he ever used them anyway." George Weasley, you never cease to amaze me how you can still be smiling when you've lost all that you have.

He never loved another woman, even when he tried, by Godric I wanted him to be happy, even if it wasn't with me. He was sat on the bed, clutching the photo of him and I as he played with the engagement ring he gave me. "I live for you my Angel, If only there was a way you could have lived for me."

[waitimcomingtoo]

Hii! Can you do a Tom Holland x reader where they do the buzzfeed video reading thirst tweets and Tom gets jealous of the tweets, fluff fluff fluff. 💞💞 THANK YOUU

I love this idea! I hope you like it

Thirsty

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warning: it’s thirsty tweets, so adult humor and crude comments

Masterlist

“Hi I’m Y/n L/n.” Tom said to the camera while sneaking at glance at you to see if you laughed.

“And I’m Tom Holland.” You bounced off his joke with a giggle. “And today, we’re going to be reading thirsty tweets.”

“The tweets aren’t thirsty, darling. It’s the people writing them.” Tom corrected you. He gave the camera a pointed look as you laughed at your mistake, already feeling giddy for the video.

“I’m sorry. Let’s start the video, shall we?” You asked as you picked a tweet out of the bucket. “I wonder how big Tom Holland’s- oh and this is Buzzfeed!” You suddenly remembered to credit the creators of the video. Everyone on set, including Tom burst out laughing. Tom plucked the tweet out of your hands.

“I think we’ve heard enough of the one.” Tom said as he tossed the paper over his shoulder.

“Take a two minute break. That’ll be our intro.” Someone from behind the camera called. You gave them a thumbs up and turned to Tom.

“Are you excited or nervous?” You asked him as your straighten the collar of his jacket. You’d made a habit of tidying up Tom since he had a habit of being disheveled.

“I try to always turn my nerves into excitement.” Tom told you. “But I’m a little nervous about what they’re going to say about you. You, being so hot and all.”

You laughed and tossed some of your straightened hair behind your shoulder.

“Oh, you know. I aim to please.” You replied. You were a little nervous yourself. You could only imagine what crazy things fans could’ve tweeted at your movie star boyfriend. He was definitely a fan favorite, and had a whole army of girls begging to be his. You’d just recently announced that you were together and this was your first video together as an official couple. So yeah, you were nervous.

Your break ended and you picked the first official tweet out of the bucket.

“Tom Holland is zaddy.” You read. It was a nice, calm way to start the video.

“That wasn’t bad.” Tom nodded. “Short and sweet.” He selected a tweet from the bucket.

“Y/n L/n looks a lot like my next girlfriend.” He read. He made a displeased face at the camera.

“I don’t know, mate. I heard she has a boyfriend. A really good looking one too.” Tom joked. You rolled your eyes as he took another tweet.

“Tom Holland is so fine. I think I rewatched the scene when Peters suit falls off a million times.” He read.

“Same girl.” You commented. You took the bucket from his hands and put your hand on the side of your mouth, whispering loudly, “it’s even better in person.”

“If I could only let one person bone me the rest of my life, it would be Y/n L/n.” You read out loud. Your eyes widened at the bold tweet.

“That escalated quickly.” You said. Tom didn’t look amused.

“She already has someone to do that, so.” Tom shrugged smugly and tossed the tweet aside.

“Thomas!” You smacked his arm and looked at the camera. “Do you see what I have to put up with? Let’s keep it PG, please.”

“@YOURNAMELASTNAME, girl, what you doing? Get your ass back in the Louvre where you belong.” You read.

“I liked that one.” Tom said with a nod of approval. “Because you are a work of art.”

You smiled at him and picked out another tweet.

“My sexuality is the veins in Tom Holland’s right arm.” You smacked your knee as you laughed. Tom just shook his head.

“I don’t even know what that means.” He remarked as he took a tweet.

“Y/n L/n, if you’re reading this, by all means, foreclose on my house. Destroy my credit score. Flood my basement. Ruin my life. I beg you.” He read dramatically. The lack of crudeness towards earned a chuckle from him.

“Aw that’s...sweet?” You said, sounding more like a question. You look a tweet from the bucket and cleared your throat.

“I would let 30-50 feral hogs trample over me if Tom Holland was the paramedic who transferred my corpse into the back of the ambulance.” Tom read. You burst out laughing until your stomach hurt.

“That was graphic.” You said between giggles. “And incredibly specific.”

“She wouldn’t really need an ambulance at that point though, would she?” Tom asked you, not ready to leave the topic yet.

“I’ve never been trampled by 30-50 wild hogs, so I wouldn’t know.” You replied. Tom gave you a cheeky grin.

“It’s feral hogs, love.” He teased. He had a way of forgetting cameras were there when you were around.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You said sarcastically as you took a tweet.

“Tom Holland is the only man who deserves rights.” You read and nodded in agreement. Tom did as well which made you laugh.

“I want Y/n L/n to use my face as a trampoline.” Tom read. He looked at the paper in his hands for a long time. “Now, why are mine so tame and yours are borderline insane?” He was beginning to find the tweets less and less funny. He didn’t like people tweeting about you in such vulgar ways, especially when they didn’t even know you.

“I guess my fans just really like me.” You shrugged and picked up another tweet. “I want Tom Holland to drive over me with his private jet.”

“It’s actually Sonys jet, but I appreciate the gesture.” Tom answered as he took a tweet out of the bucket. “My ideal weight is Y/n L/n on top of me.” Tom clicked his tongue, feeling a little twinge of anger in the pit of his stomach. “That’s unfortunate, since she’s a little busy being on top of me.”

You looked at the camera with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

“What did I say? PG!” You snatched the bucket from his hands and pretended to be angry. Tom knew he shouldn’t have said it, though be it true, but he just wanted to remind the people watching of your relationship. Tom took the bucket back from you and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I’m just letting the fans know who’s you are.” Tom replied with a cocky smile. “All mine.”

“I just wanna know how Y/n L/ns lips feel😔” He read. “And then they put a little sad face emoji.”

“Aw. You don’t have to be sad.” You told the camera.

“They feel amazing, by the way.” Tom quipped, giving the camera a cheeky wink. “But you’re never gonna know.”

“I want Tom Holland to use his jawline to cut me into fries.” You read. It made you chuckle again. You slid your finger across Toms jawline and smiled.

“Me too, baby, me too.” You said and picked out another one.

“This one is about you again. It says “Tom Holland walks into a room and his ass walks in 20 minutes later.” I have to agree.” You nodded. “Daddy thiccums.”

“Don’t start with that again, darling.” Tom groaned. Someone had commented that on his post the week prior and you wouldn’t let him live it down. You thought it was the funniest nickname in existence. Tom, of course, hated it, which is exactly why you snuck it into conversations every now and then.

“What? There’s nothing to be ashamed of, baby. If you got it, flaunt it.” You announced as you swiped some hair off his forehead. He felt a little hot to the touch. You noticed his jaw was clenched for the first time. If you weren’t being filmed, you’d have been all over him, asking if he was okay. You knew you had to bite your tongue until the interview was over.

“Y/n L/n can have it anytime she wants it.” You read off the paper.

“She doesn’t want it.” Tom deadpanned.

“Hey.” You laughed and took the tweet from his hand. “That’s mean.”

“Look at his profile picture. He looks like a foot.” Tom pointed to the tiny profile picture that could barley be seen on the paper.

“A foot?” You laughed and took another tweet from the bucket. There was definitely something off about Tom. You were sure of it now.

”Tom Holland’s ass is phat with a PH.” You read. You looked at the camera and wiggled your eyebrows.

“Again, completely true.” You agreed.

“Why are all of these about my butt?” Tom asked with a smile, but sounding genuinely confused.

“Maybe because you’re dummy thick.” You shrugged and took another tweet.

“Y/n in that dress at the Far From Home premiere? She walked in and said BAWDY. She said body-ody-ody.” You read from the paper.

“Stop.” You put your hand over your face in sudden embarrassment. “You’re too kind.”

“Are they wrong, though? I loved you in that black and red dress.” Tom commented and took one from the bucket.

“I had to show my man some support by wearing his colors. My man, being Spider-Man I mean. Not this loser.” You pointed you thumb at Tom.

“Hey.” He put his hand over his heart and pouted at you. “I am your man.”

“I know.” You presses a quick kiss to his still red cheeks. “I’m only teasing, lover.”

Tom looked satisfied with you answer and read his tweet.

“Not to be horny on main, but I want to hold Tom Holland’s hand.” He said. He immediately slipped his hand into yours and held them up for the camera.

“Sorry.” He said. “My hands are full.”

“@backseatL/N asks, has Y/n broken up with the Brit yet? I’m tryna know if I can shoot my shot or not.” You read. You wished you’d read it to yourself before reading it out loud. It was sure to get a rise out of Tom.

“She did not.” Tom looked directly into the camera. “So you can not.”

You could hear the tension in his voice. He was wavering from joking around to actually being serious. You squeezed his hand gently to let him know everything was alright. Tom seemed to appreciate the gesture and gave you a grateful smile.

“Sorry guys.” You said, your eyes never leaving Tom. “You know I love a London boy.”

Tom picked out a tweet that had a picture of himself at the Far From Home premiere attached.

“I would let Tom Holland break my legs. I don’t know why this photo made me realize that but it did.” He read. You took the paper in your own hands to examine the picture.

“Oh God.” You said. “Remember when you took me golfing for like our third date and you hit me in the leg with a golf ball?”

“I do.” Tom bit back a smile. “I can’t believe you let me take you on another date after that.”

He appeared to be in a better mood until you read the next tweet.

“Y/n is way too fine to be wasting her time with that toothpick. I could show her how a REAL man does it. Just wait, @YOURNAMELASTNAME, I’m coming for you. #tomhollandbetterprayup.”

You grimaced and crumpled the tweet up into a ball. Tom did not look happy and you were starting to see why.

“I think she’s been shown how a real man does it.” Tom said, trying to sound like he was kidding for the camera but not succeeding. You could tell he was throughly pissed off now and hoped the fans wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Yes I have.” You slammed your fist down like you were in court. “Real men hit you with golf balls and then laugh instead of getting you ice.”

Tom laughed at your joke so you kept going to pull him out of his sour mood. “Also, who are they calling toothpick?” You asked as you squeezed Toms bicep. “This thing feels like a ripe avocado.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” Tom said in his sassy voice. You pinched his cheek before taking out another tweet.

“The sun shines for Y/n L/n. It only shines on the rest of us out of pity. It belongs to her and only her.” You read. “Aw. That was really cute.” You said. “Thank you, @fistmetonystark.”

The username caught you off guard. Tom let out a loud laugh as your face went red in embarrassment.

“Okay.” You dragged out the word. “Moving on.”

“I’m just trying to take a bubble bath and watch Home Alone with Tom Holland. Is that to much to ask?” Tom read off a paper.

“In my opinion, that is a lot to ask.” You kidded.

“I think the bath would get cold by the time the movie ended.” Tom said in an attempt to apply logic to the absurd tweet.

“But in my experience, bubble baths with Tom Holland are fun.” You saluted the camera and Tom smiled at you. Your attempt to calm him down wasn’t going unnoticed by him.

“They’re fun until Y/n gets soap in your eyes.” He said to the camera.

“Let the record show that I got soap in his eye once.” You emphasized. “And it was only because I happened to sneeze.”

Tom grabbed the leg of your stool and pulled your chair closer to his. You rested your head on his shoulder as he read the next one.

“@thatswhatmakesyoubootyful says, who said Tom Holland was allowed to have such a juicy dumper? I want answers.” Tom read and you bent over in a fit of laughter. “I can’t believe I had to read that with my own two eyes.”

“JUICY DUMPER.” You screamed. The crew laughed in the background. Tom just shook his head, stifling a laugh.

“@YOURNAMELASTNAME, I just want to put a ring on your pretty little finger. Lord knows Holland won’t do it.” You read once you caught your breath. You wiped a tear from your eye, still to fully recovering from the last tweet. Tom, who was fully recovered, took offense to this one.

“Holland will do it.” He snapped, almost sounding angry. “Holland will most definitely do it, and you can quote me on that, @chokemeharry2011.”

You giggled at the username and picked a paper out of the bucket.

“I want Tom Holland to chop me up and feed me to Tessa.” You raised your eyebrows. “Please don’t. She’s fat enough.”

“Hey!” Tom took the bucket from your hands. “Don’t make fun of my baby.”

“Your fat baby.” You said under your breath.

“Petition for Y/n L/n to win an Oscar for acting like she’s actually in love with Tom Holland.” Tom read, looking completely unamused.

“It’s not acting, but I would like an Oscar.” You poked Toms side but he was busy looking up at the ceiling with an annoyed expression. You gulped you picked up a tweet.

“I want Tom Holland to beat me with a sack of wet mice.” This got Tom laughing again, which made you relived. There were only a few left and you prayed they were tame.

“You know what Tom Holland has that I don’t have? Y/n L/n.” You began to read. “You know what I have that Tom Holland doesn’t have? Lips.”

You crumpled that one up too and gave a fake laugh.

“That one wasn’t even funny.” You said, mostly to Tom. His scowl was back on his face.

“I want to be baptized in Tom Holland’s sweat.” You tried to lighten the mood by reading one for him. He let a little air out and gave a small smile. You moved one of your legs to go over his and left it there. He wasn’t blind to what you were doing and rested his hand on your leg while taking a tweet.

“*pulls up to McDonalds window* can I get uhhhhhhh…Y/n L/n’s hand in marriage?” He read. He had to laugh at that one.

“Aw.” You looked up at the camera with a happy smile. “That’s actually wholesome. Thanks @babydollY/N.” You blew a kiss.

“That was the last one.” Tom looked inside the bucket and to his relief, didn’t see any more.

“Well that was us reading thirst tweets.” You said into the camera. “I feel like I need a shower. Or 12.”

“I feel like you need to block half the people who sent those in.” Tom half joked.

“Well, thank you so much Buzzfeed for having us.”

“And go see our movie, Spider-Man Far From Home.” Tom opened his arms out to the camera before wrapping a protective arm around your shoulders.

The camera man gave you the thumbs up, meaning he’d stopped filming. You and Tom went through the rest of your interviews for that day and didn’t get home until late. Luckily, you were doing press in London so you could stay at home and not a hotel. Tom was still acting a little off during the interviews. He kept his hand on your leg for all of them, and was a little more affectionate than usual. You were pretty sure he had kissed your cheek or lips in every single video you shot that day. Sure, that was the kind of stuff fans and shippers lived for, but Tom had never been one for PDA. When you finally got home, you asked him about his behavior.

“What’s up with you today? Is everything alright?” You asked him when you came out of the bathroom to find him lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling. You took a seat next to him as he sat up.

“I’m not gonna lie, those tweets made me kind of jealous.” Tom confessed. He insecurely toyed with your fingers and didn’t make eye contact.

“Why?” You asked him. You pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles, making him look at you.

“Because I feel like the whole world wants my girl.” He said sadly.

“But to your girl, you’re the whole world.” You assured him, cupping his face in your hands. He gave you a small smile at your corny words.

“You have a way with words, don’t you L/n?” He said, cheering up a little. “And thank you for what you did in the interview. I could tell you were trying to calm me down. I was just overwhelmed by all the people pinning for you. It made me afraid I was going to lose you.” Tom admitted. You shook you head and kissed him gently.

“Don’t worry, lover. You’re not gonna lose me to @fistmesteverogers or @babydollY/N. My heart is all yours.” You told him.

“It was @fistmetonystark.” Tom corrected, looking glum again. You couldn’t help but giggle at the stupid username.

“Whoever it was, it doesn’t matter. People can tweet me whatever they want. You’re the only one I have notifications on for, baby.” You said, trying to keep the conversation light to show Tom how he had nothing to worry about.

“Don’t you have notifications on for John Mulaney?” Tom asked, a smile finally poking through.

“Shhh.” You held a delicate finger to his lips and he laughed. “That’s not important. What’s important is I’m yours and you’re mine and no thirsty tweet could ever change that.”

“It’s not the tweets that are thirsty, it’s the people.” Tom reiterated.

“Well, let them be thirsty.” You declared, still in a joking manner. “The only thirst I’m ever gonna quench is yours.”

“Y/nnnn.” Tom whined and buried his face in your neck. You felt his hot breath on your collar bones. “I’m being serious. I don’t like people thinking about you that way. There are million of boys and girls out there who want to be run over with trucks or hit with a shovel just to be in the same room as you. How can I compete?” Tom asked, the bad feelings sinking in again.

“You can’t.” You shrugged, causing Tom to look at you quizzically. “Because there’s no competition.” You finished. Tom smiled a little as you used your pinky to tilt his face towards yours. “ Tommy, I love you. I’m never gonna love anybody else. So you can be jealous over those tweets but, it’s a waste of your time. Time that could be spent giving me love and affection.”

“You know I can’t resist love and affection.” Tom said with a happy smile. You’d finally pulled him out of his slump.

“Then stop thinking about those dumb tweets and kiss me.” You ordered.

Tom obeyed and pulled you in for a long and deep kiss. He held you close to him, even when you pulled away.

“Y/n?” Tom asked softly, sounding serious all of the sudden. You wonder if all the marriage talk in the video prompted him to ask you a certain question. You didn’t let your smile poke through and kept a calm look on your face.

“Yes?” You answered sweetly. Tom took your face in his hands and stared you deeply in your eyes. You peered back at his gentle brown eyes with all the love in the world. Tom took a deep breath, looked at the floor, and then at you.

“I want you to use my face as a trampoline.” He said finally, quoting the tweet from earlier. You smacked his hands off your face and punched him (with love) in the arm.

“You’re impossible.” You grumbled, feeling like an idiot for getting your hopes up. He, on the other hand, was dying with laughter.

“I am not impossible. I was in a movie called The Impossible, so that may be where you’re getting confused.” He teased. You’d had enough of his humor and got off the bed to walk away. “Come back! I need you to foreclose on my house.”

“Leave me alone, pervert.” You laughed, pushing him away as he tried to pull you back.

“Please? I just want you to flood my basement.” Tom continued to quote the tweets and pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on top of your head. Normally it’d be a sweet gesture, but he was pushing your buttons.

“No thanks.” You answered, giving in to the hug.

“Is it because I don’t have lips?” Tom asked. You groaned loudly and pulled yourself out of his embrace before he could see you smiling.

“I think I just heard a ribbit coming from your mouth.” You called as you walked away.

“Don’t go.” He grabbed your hands and pulled you back towards him. “I just want to know how your lips feel.”

“Two can play this game,” you lowered your voice to a grave tone, “daddy thiccums.”

“Okay.” Tom held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll stop. Just please, never say those words again.”

“I won’t.” You promised. You crossed your heart with your fingers. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a baddie with a fatty.”

“If you keep that up, Holland won’t put a ring on it.” Tom wagged his finger at you, giving in to the joke that made him upset earlier in the day.

“Well I simply can’t have that.” You said in a much calmer tone as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Tom rested his thick arms around your waist and held you flushed against him, pulling a little gasp from your throat.

“I can’t have that either.” Tom said lowly, a gleam of adoration in his tired brown eyes. “Can we just put today behind us and go to sleep?”

Tom picked you up bridal style before you could give him and answer. He placed you gently on the bed, both of you already having brushed your teeth, and climbed in next to you.

“Goodnight, lover of mine.” Tom yawned. He pressed a kiss to your lips before flopping onto his pillow.

“Goodnight...” You said mischievously.

“Don’t say it.” Tom warned in a tired voice.

“Da-“

You were instantly hit with a pillow.

“I told you not to say it.” Tom said, unable to hide his laughter.

“You’re right.” You said sincerely. “I’m sorry.”

You cuddled into Toms side and laid your head on his heartbeat. He rubbed lazy circles into your back and leaned his chin into your hair.

“But @chokemeharry2011 would never treat me this way.” You said quickly.

And thus, you were hit with another pillow.

[mister-supernova]

Please Don’t Go

Part 1 

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson x Reader

Just when you felt like you were on top of the world, you slowly started to feel yourself sinking towards the ground. Your knees gave out beneath you seconds after Hope and MG left the basement. Thankfully Lizzie was there to slow your fall and she guided you back to your original sitting spot from earlier. 

With the infection worsening, you thought to yourself that you’d give anything to have Hope back here by your side. That way your mind wouldn’t be completely focused on the pain.

The poison from the bullet began to travel all over your back, across your arms, around your neck, and it was quickly starting to blur your vision as well. You didn’t need a mirror to know that you probably looked as grey and sickly as Josie did.

From your spot against the wall, you could see that the witches must’ve gotten their powers back given that Lizzie could siphon now. You watched her desperately try to pull the magic out of the bullets that were poisoning you and her sister, but there wasn’t any progress made. Josie still looked like death and you were catching up.

Nothing they were saying could reach you from across the cell. Just like your vision, your hearing was feeling fuzzy, making anything the twins were saying to each other sound like a muffled mess of words. 

A little later on, you saw the two of them stand and leave the cell for a few minutes. You figured it was because they wanted to help the school. 

As much as you wanted to join them, you couldn’t move any of your limbs without them feeling like they were on fire and your head was pounding, making it more difficult to even focus on trying to move. 

Now it was getting harder to catch your breath. You were struggling to keep your eyelids open because it felt like they were being weighed down by a ton of bricks. 95% of the saliva in your mouth had dried up, making your lips more chapped than you were used to and your throat drier than the Sahara Desert, and you were sweating worse than you do on full moons. 

The bullets couldn’t be siphoned out of you, the poison couldn’t be removed, and you were quickly coming to the realization that neither you or Josie had any chances of surviving through the night. 

“I’m sorry, Hope,” you manage to sputter out, “I don’t think I can win this one.” You squeeze your hand into a fist, wishing that Hope’s was there to squeeze it back and give you her assurance that you were going to be okay.

“Now I know that the Y/n L/n isn’t giving up just like that.” A familiar voice echoes through your head. 

You didn’t have to think twice to know that it was Hope’s voice you were hearing. Even though your perception of time has been feeling off, you knew that there was no way she was back at the school already. 

You open your eyes just to be sure, but to your surprise a blurry figure of what looked to be Hope was sitting right by your side just as she was before leaving to save Landon.

“Well, I doubt hearing voices and seeing people who aren’t really here is a good sign for me.” 

“Says who?” She shrugs at you exactly as you would to her.

“Says every movie where a person is on the brink of death. They always see delusions before they...” you didn’t want to say it, “you know.” 

“So you’re finally admitting that you’re delusional? It’s about time.” 

You let out a weak chuckle, “They’re usually just figures of their subconscious as well, so the unusual sense of humor makes sense.” 

She scoffs, “See, now that’s just rude. How do you know your sense of humor didn’t just rub off on me, huh?” 

“No offense, but Hope wouldn’t normally be so comedic before my time of death.” 

“So you’d prefer me to be a little more emotional then?”

You shake your head, “No, this Hope is fine actually. It’s comforting considering you’re just a figment of my imagination.”

She gives you a soft smile and though you know she isn’t really here, it sets your mind at ease, “Good because I wasn’t going to be able to burst into tears anyways.” 

You smile back and avert your gaze to the stone floor, seeing her hand placed so close to yours. You were wanting more than anything to reach over and really feel her here with you. 

“I’m tired, Hope,” you say softly, feeling your eyes burn the longer you kept them open. 

“Just fight for a little while longer,” she moves her face to where it’s inches away from yours, “You know I’ll be back any minute.”

You scan the blurred features on her face, taking them all in like it would be the last time you’d ever get to see them, “I’ll just close my eyes for a little while. Wake me up when you get here.” 

“Y/n...” you could hear her voice drifting away as you began to nod off. 

You weren’t sure how much time passed before Kaleb and MG came running back down to help you up. It felt like you had dozed off for five minutes, but who knows how long you were really knocked out for. You were surprised to open your eyes and find that you were still breathing.  

“Come on, we need to move you to your room.” MG took you by one arm while Kaleb grabbed another. 

“Where’s Hope?” You muttered weakly, letting your head roll forward since it felt like a bowling ball to keep up, “Is everyone okay?”

“She’s not back yet, but the school is safe now. We also have something that will make you feel better. Just a little farther.” 

The boys carefully and urgently used their vampire speed to guide you into your dorm before setting you down on your bed. When the air conditioner began hitting you directly, you felt even colder than you did in the basement where there was little to no AC. Chills ran throughout your whole body and you tried your best to keep yourself from shivering, but failed to do so. 

“Here, Y/n. Drink this. Slowly.” MG uncaps a vial of blood and before you could question it, you felt the metallic liquid coax the inside of your mouth. You let small drops of it fall down your throat so that you wouldn’t choke and within seconds you felt yourself start to feel better. 

“Why did I just drink blood?” You ask, feeling your energy slowly begin to return, “And whose was it?” You knew that vampire blood could heal those who are injured, but from what the Triad agents said, the bullet would tear you up from the inside out. Nothing should’ve healed you or Josie.

“It’s Hope’s. She told Dr. Saltzman that it would help heal you and Jo,” MG explains, “He gave her a vial not too long ago and she’s almost fully healed already.”

Though you still had many questions as to how that was possible, your only concern now was Hope coming back home. 

You wished that you had the strength to go with her when she left, but doubted that she would’ve let you because of A; the unstable condition you were in, and B; there was no way she was going to let you get hurt again by taking you to the Malivore pit. 

After another thirty minutes passed you were back to your normal and healthy self. Then later that evening, Dr. Saltzman called a meeting and confessed that the artifact that drained the witches’ powers was brought in by him. 

The parents were the only other people who were made aware of it. That was how MG’s mom knew about it and used it against the students. He explained that it was only supposed to be used if things at the school were bad, but instead it put all the students in danger and nearly killed two of you.  

The honor council would now be deciding what your headmaster’s fate was going to be and if you were honest, you hoped they weren’t going to let him stay. Yeah, Josie represents the witches and that’s her father, but what happened was caused by him and you believed that deserved some sort of consequence. 

You weren’t in the honor council and there wasn’t much to do at the school except wait for Hope to get back to cast her vote. You imagined that she got to the Malivore pit a little while after the school assembly and that she just finished kicking whatever monster’s ass that was in her way and destroyed the pit for good. 

Her and Landon would be driving back to Mystic Falls any minute now and you could see her beautiful tribrid face again. You couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she sees that you’re okay or for the tight and possibly bone crushing hug that would follow. 

A smile crept across your face at the thought of your first kiss and the fact that you’d be alive to do it again. Out of all the crazy beautiful and handsome students at this school, the tribrid liked you. Something about that felt so unbelievably bizarre but also super incredible. 

As you lay with your back against your bed, thinking about how chaotic this day has been, you were about to realize that things were going to get even worse. 

Your phone began to ring on the nightstand, causing you to sit up and crawl over to see that the caller ID was Hope’s. 

She must be calling to let me know they’re on their way back, you thought. 

“Let me guess, you had to fight off a horde of gremlins, you ‘incendiad’ the hell out of them and saved the day once again.” You smile confidently as you answer the phone.

“Not exactly,” Hope laughs nervously and you could hear a hint of pain in her voice, “I take it by your upbeat wittiness that you’re feeling better?”

“Yeah, your blood worked absolute wonders, Mikaelson. How did you know it would heal us?” 

“I didn’t realize it at first, but I was shot by one of the Malivore bullets, too. Only, I healed when you two didn’t.”

Your smile begins to fade, “How is that possible?”

“Because Malivore was created by the blood of a werewolf, a witch, and a vampire. Which means one more thing… and I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

The other end of the call was silent, but you could hear Hope’s breathing begin to shake. “Hope, is everything okay?” You felt your heart slowly making its way up your throat.

“Y/n, Clarke found the final artifact and threw it into the pit. Malivore is going to rise at any minute unless I stop him.” 

“And how do you plan on doing that, Hope? Where’s Landon? Is he there to help you?” You stood up, preparing yourself to ask MG to run you all the way to Fort Valley right now. 

“I kind of snapped his neck, but he’ll be back. I couldn’t let him stop me from doing what I’m about to do.” You slowly felt yourself begin to panic. 

“What are you about to do?” Her silence was the only answer you needed. 

If Malivore was created by a witch, a vampire, and a werewolf, that could only mean one thing. 

You let out a shaky sigh, “Hope, you’re not jumping into that pit.” 

“Don’t you get it, Y/n? This is what I was meant to do. This is the whole reason why I was born, why my father sacrificed himself for me. I’m not some cosmic mistake without a purpose. I know that now and I know what I have to do.” Your throat knotted up tightly and an ugly feeling filled your stomach. 

“No, Hope. Your father sacrificed himself so that he could live your life, so that you could be happy, not for you to jump into a mudpit where your family and friends will forget who you are forever.” You wished that she wasn’t so damn far away. You wanted to go help her, but you felt so useless. 

“I have to do this. We don’t have time to come up with another solution.” 

“Just come back!” you say desperately, “We’ll rally up the students, we can help fight Malivore or something. We can think of something, anything, just please don’t leave.” 

You hardly ever begged for anything in your life, but you did not want to lose Hope. 

“You… you said you’d be back, Hope. So just please, please come back.” Your voice softened as your throat tightened even more and tears built up in your eyes.

“In a few minutes you won’t even remember who I am.” That’s what broke you. 

You didn’t want to forget Hope. You didn’t want to forget the sound of her laugh after one of your jokes, or her victorious smile after beating you in a spar session, or the way her eyes rolled when you’d say something sarcastic, or the proud look on her face after finishing another amazing painting. 

“I already told Dr. Saltzman to get rid of all of my things. I’m sorry, Y/n,” you could tell that Hope was holding herself back from crying by the wavering tone in her voice, “I wish things were different and that we had more time. I have to go.”

“Hope,” you try calling out to her, but you were only met with a dial tone. You throw your phone onto your bed, frustrated and broken-hearted.

In mere moments from now, you would have no memories of the tribrid you had fallen in love with. She would cease to exist in your mind and there was nothing you could do to stop it... or was there?

~

sorry this took me longer to post than i expected to... i’ve been caught up with school and kept forgetting to add part 2, but thank you all for the love on part 1 and i’ll see ya again for part 3! <3

taglist: @chicken-wang09​ 

[wing-ed-thing]

Cliché (shy!Reader x Might Guy, Part II)

Hi everyone! It makes me so happy to see that others enjoy my dumb little stories. Ngl I’m fairly self-conscious about my writing style, but I like writing it and people enjoy it so I’m happy! Anyway, Tumblr isn’t letting my post show up in the tags if I have a link, so part I is on my Masterlist pinned on my blog. Apologies for the inconvenience!

“No, no… no, no, no, no… ” you muttered, head in your hands and grasping at your scalp. Your knees pulled to your chest as you sat in the hospital cot. You folded your body into a ball. You were mortified, horrified. Not only did you pass out, but your crush of a decade-long-plus carried you to the hospital. You could die. You kept repeating the words louder to yourself, “No, oh my god, oh my god...”

“It’s not so bad, (Y/N)-chan.” Kurenai reassured you in an attempt to sound nonchalant. She looked upon you in your overreacted state and moved an arm around your shoulder. She tried her best to give a reassuring smile. “You passed out from getting within a foot of Maito-Kun, so what?” Her wording only served to make you groan.

Kurenai was the only one you had ever told about your crush on Guy (not that most everyone else didn’t know already). She thought that you just should have talked to him in the academy days, but considering it took you this much time to work up the nerve, she supported your “casual walk” plan with resignation. But when she saw Guy carrying you to the hospital after “morning training”, she knew what must have happened. She sighed, luckily the training grounds were close to the hospital. She could only imagine what would have happened if you actually tried asking Might out of a date.

Now as you sit up in your hospital cot, she couldn’t help but hold back a snicker. She was of course going to be a supportive friend, even if this whole situation was ridiculous. You were passed out over Might Guy for Jashin’s sake! And to make matters worse, now you were stuck at the notoriously busy Konoha general all morning waiting for Shizune to come discharge you. You definitely reminded her of a certain student…

You raised your head, resting your chin on your knees. You sighed.

“I knew I couldn’t hold an actual conversation, but I didn’t think I’d actually pass out!” Kurenai couldn’t hold back a chuckle this time.

“It just means that you’ll do better next time for sure!” You give Kurenai a look of gratitude for her positivity, even if she was laughing a bit. The pit in your chest and burn on your cheeks wouldn’t clear up anytime soon, but the support of your friend was reassuring.

“I don’t know how the bar could be any lower,” you muttered. Kurenai looked sympathetically at you. Before she could comment, Shizune came through the door.

“I heard you overdid it training again?” she inquired in a slightly exasperated tone. You had a flashback to Guy. The hand on his chest. The toned muscle under his jumpsuit.

“Yep!” you blurted, “Just training! Nothing else!” Yeah, she didn’t believe that for a second.

“You have to take it easier,” she humored you, coming closer to check you for injury, “We can’t have you blacking out on the battlefield.”

“Yeah, I know,” you tell her, scratching your head sheepishly. You were relieved that people just thought you overworked yourself training. Unbeknownst to you, Shizune knew better. “One-time thing I promise!”

Shizune rolled her eyes before formally discharging you from Konoha General. Kurenai walked you out. The two of you chatted happily. It’s not all the time that busy shinobi like you have downtime to just shoot the breeze. However, that smile soon faded as you spotted Might Guy standing by the entrance. Great, Kurenai will have to catch you this time. You froze. He looked as if he just ran there as he stood by the gate stretching his quads. You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked in the golden evening glow.

You shook the thought out of your head and tried to move behind Kurenai. Quickly sensing your nervousness, Kurenai tugged you forward by the shirt. You flinched as you walked out of the hospital.

“Ah! Kurenai-san!” Guy exclaims, running up to the pair of you, “(Y/N)-san, I came to check on you after I finished my morning training!” He came back to check on you. You were touched, but your gratitude came off only as an awkward laugh.

“Which round, the third or fourth?” you inquired, too tense for it to come off as a full joke. Guy didn’t notice though.

“Ha! You got me there, (Y/N)-san!” His laugh was jolly. You always liked his laugh, it made you smile. You always liked that about his nature. You didn’t talk to Might Guy a lot, but when you did, no matter how awkward you were he always seemed happy to see you. A small blush formed on your cheeks.

Kurenai looked at you, then at Guy. Yep, definitely reminded her of a certain two students.

“Guy, you’re right on time! Perhaps you can walk (Y/N) home because I have to-” she paused- “Check up on my team, I promised! You’ll take care of her, won’t you Guy?”

You looked at Kurenai in acute terror.

“Of course I will!” Guy proclaimed, unaware of the exchange between yourself and your friend. Kurenai patted you on the shoulder as she walked out of the gates.

“Judas!” you hissed under your breath as she left. Kurenai smiled at you innocently. You’ll thank her later. You turned back to face Guy.

“Really Guy, I don’t want to put you out more than I already have.” You gestured towards him. “I was going to go to the market for dinner anyway! You probably have more training to do.”

Guy stood by your side, chest puffed and grin on his face. You smiled at his smile.

“Nonsense! Let me help you, (Y/N)-san!” He looks off to the side, looking a little dejected. “I also want to make sure you’re okay, ” he admits. His shoulders slump a bit, his confidence replaced with sheepishness and a slight pout. An adorable pout. “I can’t help but feel responsible… overwhelming you with the power of youth and all...” Yeah, youth… that was it.

“No, not at all, Guy-san!” you squeaked.

“So you’ll let me accompany you?” It was less of a question and more of an eager statement, but how could you say no? Guy pepped up right away as he dragged you out of the gates of Konoha General in the direction of the market.

You walked down the street together. You were content to listen as Guy spoke passionately about his training today and his students. His eyes lit up the more he spoke. There’s that passion you admired. There’s someone who loves what he does. Your shoulders relaxed as you two walked along. You laughed loudly at his exaggerated gestures. People were staring as the two of you walked passed. That was something you would have normally, self consciously noticed, but not this time. What you also didn’t notice, was the pure look of happiness that swept through Guy when you smiled.

“I hope I’m not boring you. Most people don’t let me go on about training for this long!” Guy confessed. You both stood at a stall in the market as you looked over vegetables.

“I-” you paused and met his gaze. Like hearing you speak? Like your passion? Enjoy being with you? Don’t understand how someone couldn’t enjoy being with you?- “I don’t mind.” You resumed picking your vegetables. Guy insisted on holding your bag for you. He chuckled.

“Well, I’m relieved.” He gave you a wink as you placed a vine of tomatoes in the bag. You quickly looked away, expecting him to continue talking about his team, but he didn’t. It wasn’t like him to be so silent. You glanced and saw his face was pensive. The both of you continued moving along. The paper throw-away bag he carried getting more and more full. He spoke your name.

“I hope you know that you can speak your mind.” You wavered. He continued, “You seem like you have something to say or you’re thinking about something. I just want you to know that you’re welcome to share that with me.”

Shocked, you hesitated. You couldn’t recall a time when anyone invited you to openly speak your mind. He wasn’t demanding of you impatiently, but encouraging. That was definitely a new one for you.

“You make everything sound so simple. I wish I was like you. I couldn’t do what you do,” you admitted. Everything was telling you to hold back and to stop speaking, but his words rolled around in your head. “I enjoy hearing about your team and your training, please tell me more.”

You never thought you would see the day that you had a full one-on-one conversation with Guy (especially at a relatively close proximity!), but today was that day. He indulged you as you walked back to your apartment, talking about whatever it was that you asked about. After all, you were content in your listening. Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all. You could definitely get used to this. It was new, but you liked it: the peace of mind his presence brought, how he never steamrolled you when you chimed in, laughing when the leaves of the celery stalks flew into his face. However, your conversation soon came to a close as you soon found yourselves in front of your front door. You thanked him for walking you home as he handed you your groceries. You felt like you should say something, but nervousness delayed you.

“Um… thank you, Guy-San,” you stammered.

“Of course! Anytime, (Y/N)-san.” he gave his signature thumbs up. You gulped, thinking about his words from the market. Was it that easy to tell how often you held back? You knew that at some point you would like to be a more open person, but fear often got in the way. You observed Guy and wanted to grow and he gave you the room. For someone so loud, not once did he interrupt you when you spoke. He was telling the truth; you’re welcome to share with him. He inspired you to be better, to reach your goals, and he didn’t even know it. So, at the risk of fainting again, you went for it.

“I enjoyed talking to you, perhaps we could do it again!” you anxiously exclaimed at a higher volume than you probably should have. Guy liked the energy, even if it was wrapped in nervousness.

“That’s a wonderful idea! Indeed we should!” he agreed.

You blanked the rest of the conversation. You didn’t even remember waving him off or stumbling into your apartment. The only thing you could think of was that you have to tell Kurenai.

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without context

Miscellaneous Edition, for those quotable lines from between sessions

"All I wanna do, is fork a giant woman! A giant woman!" "Jonni, I'm pretty sure she is some type of undead, probably a vampire. Are you sure that is a good idea?" "If I don’t get turned into a blueberry it won’t be my worst date." "Okay, but if you have to defend yourself just don't burn the place down for once." "Oh, Nyx. Sweet summer child. I never make promises we both know I won’t even try to keep." "Jonni, if I wake up to my bed surrounded in flames again I'm short-sheeting your next bed every night for at least a month." "I know you're trying to score here, but Lady Dimitrescu's daughters are literally vampires AND bugs. I can overlook one, but as a Paladin, it is my sacred duty to burn this place to the ground and stir the ashes."

"We don't let Marshall make breakfast anymore." "Those waffles are well-fortified." "I'm going to be charitable and call it hardtack." "We can use these waffles as melee weapons." "Well if we need to deflect siege engines they'll be good to have." "This is still carbon based and digestible by human systems without any poisons." "I can't serve this. It'll cause ... death." "Marshal we've been over this. This Pizza has 10% less of a lethal amount of grease." "Plus they signed the waivers when they bought a ticket. It's fine." "And don't forget to push the Cakeon." "Cakeon being slices of cake wrapped in bacon." "The special sauce is a mixture of mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, ranch, horseradish, cheddar cheese, sour cream, and anything unfortunate enough to fall into the mixing vat."

"You do have a copy of the legal code I requested in my letter? As landed gentry you should actually have legal avenues to... I'm sorry did you say Burning child?"

"First I'm going to nail a crossbow bolt through your heart. Then I'm going to mount your balls to walls on opposite sides of this chamber." "I need Three Barrels of Butter" "Are you serious? Those Claws could crush an elephant in full plate!" "You're Right!" *Turns to first person* "We might need more than three barrels of butter."

"So Ioun is the patron of poor college kids. that scans "

"its hardtack or a mug of molten cheese-fried... something in a woven mug of bacon. your choice."

"Welp, all this coke ain't gonna snort itself..."

"Right hand me that dress and the bail money. I'll get Jonni." OOC: Well I mean they allow men in the city. Its just no men live in the city. "I stand by my statement. I'm allowed to look pretty every now and then." OOC: And dragons are the most unprejudiced lovers of anyone after bards.

OOC: Well I mean come on, its Ravenloft: saying a place is of death and madness is like making the observation the day ends in y. "Going out. Getting laid." "Jonni, she’s a werewolf." "Going out, forking a werewolf." OOC: Well Lycanthropy isn't usually sexually transmitted. Its just that Mercedes is a biter. OOC: ...I don't have an appropriate response to that.

"You seriously think I’d turn on my friends for a pile of gold?!?" "sigh I’ll show you my tits. "Hot damn, let’s get these murders done!" "No, Jonni, stay good. Besides, there are plenty of other girls who will do that without asking you to murder us." "Hmmmm… this is the moral quandary of my life…" "I’ll give you five bucks." "Scales tipped!" "Phew, I thought I was going to have to cover her next trip to the topless bar." "No, no, I have the bail money right here."

Nyx: So what’s the inside of Jonni’s head like? Edmund (with thousand yard stare): Imagine every ladies only smut magazine you’ve ever heard of going on forever into infinity while everything is on fire. Food was good though.

"It’s cool. They stole it." "And you know this how?" "Magic." “90% of Ravenloft deaths are mysterious vanishings.” "Why does everything come out covered in glitter and … is that …" "Lube. I’ve got a few theories." "Please don’t share them."

OOC: This is a plan that ends with Strahd having fewer brides, his castle is in flames, and he’s lost his cape.

OOC: Our team consists of a horny pyromancer, a gnome who can fillete you in five seconds, an HP lovecraft protagonist with actual magic backing them up, a literal slab of iron with a face, and a guy with a "I went to the eternal city of Ryleth and all I got was PTSD and this lousy T shirt". Gorbash smashing his shield into their face: "Have! You! Considered! Therapy!" OOC: Good news is you guys will no longer be the most conspicuous guys at the masquerade now. Jonni: Challenge accepted! "Nyx, the bounty on stealing his fake mustache is still on."

"Vanilla is the king of flavors. What does it say about society where vanilla is considered just 'regular'?" "That they have a lot of vanilla." Lash: "Don’t you want wishes?" Jonni: "Do I need wishes to get to see you naked?" Lash: "No?" Jonni: "Fuck ‘em." Vesh: "Oh dammit its my arranged fiance." Pit Fiend: "Milady." Vesh: "An extra wish to whoever punches this douchecanoe in the nards." Jonni: "I wish…for Bigby’s clenched fist of nard punching."

Soth: "Oh, gods, why am I on fire and why is Immigrant Song playing?" Jonni: "Take a guess." Hazlik: "Okay, so its a partridge, stuffed inside a chicken, stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey, and the whole thing is fried on a stick. Congratulations, that's the most horrible thing I have ever seen, and I once crossbred an elephant and an owl." "I give him the 'itis, and we run like we stole something." OOC: ...weirdly Curse of Strahd has stats for Strahd zombies but not Strahd Skeletons. Or Strahd's skeletal Steed. Strahd once went to a branding seminar hosted by Bane and it changed his life.

"Are we on a high enough floor that if I throw him through the window he'll be killed by the fall?" "Oh, but when I say stuff like that it’s all 'Jonni, murder is wrong.'" "When they say pick your battles they don't mean to pick all of them. That's too many battles Jonni. Put some back." OOC: He's technically already got a symbiote. OOC: They can get married. Gorbash: "I'm increasing the rent." Venom: "Can I keep the pool table?" Gorbash: "I'm not a monster." Giant Brain: "Jonni… I have summoned you here for… WHY AM I ALREADY ON FIRE! PUT ME OUT! PUT ME OUT!"

"Hello We're the party-crashers. This is Jonni, she's here to steal your women and burn your shit down. That's Nyx, she's going to repatriate certain items from the premise. Marshal over there, is here to studiously ignore our shenanigans. This is the New Guy. He seems pretty chill. I'm Gorbash... and I have been distracting you."

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly. Jonni: "Hold up. Trying to sex a spider." Nyx: (throws her hands up) And then Jonni wakes up with a spider venom hangover webbed to a wall waiting to be eaten. Jonni: "Eh, I’ve had worse one night stands. I’m not a fucking blueberry." OOC 1: Hey, where does your weed elf grow [her] crops? OOC 2: She probably just grows them in the room she hasn’t paid rent on. OOC 3: Because I was also considering a circle of spores druid tortle. OOC 2: We could be partners! We could turn this into road to el dorado staring Cheech and Chong. OOC: Wait, I just realized five people are hanging out in a pirate bar, and none of us are rogues. We are gonna need someone to get thieves tools. OOC: We have a barbarian with a big stick.

"Are we Foxhound now? Blunderbuss Octopus." OOC1: You want to put the stoner in charge of food. OOC2: Eyup. OOC1: I see no way this can go wrong! OOC3: We need the four basic food groups. Beans, Bacon, Whisky, and Lard. “We pray to Almighty Darkseid! Give us a sign! Thumbs up, for the triumph of the human spirit! Thumbs down to begin the everlasting reign of darkness!” “Where did you find this guy?” “Me? I thought you hired him.” OOC: Yup, nature, arcana, history, investigation and religon at +6. MJ got baked and watched the Discovery Orb a lot. Tordek: "But we have a cleric, Jozan, over there." Strahd: *sigh* Snaps fingers, and suddenly one of Strahd's brides sucks Jozan out the window, cue screaming. "Oh look, you suddenly have an opening, how fortunate." Tordek: "We also have a druid...." Vadania: "SHUT UP, TORDEK!" Edmund: "I think the first order of business may be to discuss your Human Resources strategy..." Strahd: "I have a guy for that too."

"When someone as smart as him talks with himself, it's not crazy...They call it monologing." "I thought it was soliloquy?" "No, soliloquy is when you're talk at someone else when your talking to yourself." "Most people would run from a demon, you run towards it to study it." Professor: "THIS IS ABSOLUTELY FASCINATING! A FROGHEMOTH, AND RIGHT UP CLOSE, IT WILL BE AMAZING TO SEE THIS PERFECT KILLING MACHINE IN ACTION." OOC: Also note the Professor is Lawful Good, Archie is Chaotic Good, so collectively they balance out to Neutral good. OOC: That's good. "The incinerations will continue until morale improves!" “You never incinerate the women!” “Because I’m fucking them!” “I… was not expecting you to be so honest about that…”

"You got what you wanted....but you lost what you had...." "Yes, I'm familiar with how capitalism works."

OOC: Dragons are like, “That’s Krandor the shiney. He only fucks other dragons. Weirdo.”

Gorbash: "D'awww, so tiny... perfect size... FOR PUNTING!" *boots tiny mind-flayer into the horizon*

"Dracula hasn't been spotted in almost recently. Whats he gonna do, destroy all we know and love like he definitely can?" "... my god you people are too stupid to live." "What are you doing in my house?" Gorbash: "...well Edmund has been reading your books, I've been sorting through your armory, Nyx and Irost has been going through your other shinies, Marshal has been cleaving anything monstrous that gets too close, and Jonni has been lighting things on fire to stave off boredom." Gorbash: "Okay Marshal, Jonni. Rock, paper, scissors over who gets [to kill] the bishop."

Jonni: "Did you really think this would make up for what you did?" Nima: "I… killed everyone you grew up with." Jonni: "Yeah, and I’m still not forgiving you for what you did to Eddie." Nima: "I am missing some key context here…" Nima: "Also I committed identity theft on you by having my new undead army tell everyone you are running the show." Jonni: "Oh, no. You’ve fooled the boar tribe. Who still haven’t figured out shitting in a hole." Nima: "Yeah I noticed that. I ruined two pairs of shoes attacking their camps."

[violetnotez]

⤷ Genre: Fluff

⤷ Word Count: 3161+

⤷ Warnings: cursing(?), mentions of panic attack

⤷ Synopsis: Welcome to Hannah simps for Shoto constantly and can’t decide on a fic so she writes EVERY IDEA SHE HAD

Buy Me a Ko-fi! | Requests Open| Matchups Closed

Also @shoutogepi is the reason why I’m a Shoto simp now so say thank u to her, cause without her this probably would’ve been a Bakugo fic lmao 😂💀

You groaned into the pillow, your icy hands trying to find refuge under the soft covering of the pillow.

Your body was shaking, every bone screaming in aches, your forehead thumping against your skull..this cold was kicking your ass.

“How are you feeling love? Do you need anything?”

Shoto asked sweetly, coming over to the bed you were currently laying on. He crouched down, his bicolored eyes watching your every move carefully. He placed his hand against your forehead, feeling your temperature as you closed your eyes wistfully at the sensation.

“I-Im good…,” you mumbled groggily, “I just want to sleep…”

Shoto smiled lightly-even while sick you were so incredibly adorable, probably even more so. You had come down with a cold a few days prior, nothing too serious, but he still wanted to take care of you while you were more weak.

“That's probably best for you,” he agreed. “Sleeping off the sickness will help you recover sooner.”

He stood up, his slender hands taking the covers of the bed and wrapping them around you more snuggly.

“Just close your eyes, Ill still be here when you wake up,”

He placed a small kiss on your forehead, his lips soft against your skin and his bicolored locks tickling your face.

You snuggle even deeper in the blankets, cuddling yourself up into them as a flustred smile grew on your face. Shoto’s lips felt so deliciously warm, and you wished you could envelope your whole body in that heat. No matter how many blankets you wrapped around you or how high you put the heat up, you still felt cold. It was a strange feeling, since you knew your temperature was actually higher than normal, but you couldn’t shake the unbearable freeze that was icing your bones.

“Can you turn up the heater tho, S-Shoto? I still feel really c-cold…” you stuttered, hating how cliche your shivers sounded.

Shoto turned to look at you, a worried look washing over his face.

“Its as high as it can go y/n, I cant make it any warmer,”

“-Oh”

That’s all you said, a pit of anxiety filling your stomach.

Well that was just great-now you couldn't get any warmer and have to suffer until this stuipd sickness went away.

Shoto knew you were unnaturally cold at the moment and needed special care because of it. He reassured himself that it was just a side effect of the sickness, and it wasn’t something he should worry about too much.

It didn’t bother him how hot it was either-the ice side of his quirk allowed him to regulate his temperature, keeping him nice and cool even as the heat in the room steadily rises as you kept asking him to raise it.

It broke his heart though to see you so cold and shivering, your body curled into a little ball to gain some type of sensation of warmth. Shoto looked down at his hands in defeat, wishing he could do something, anything, to relieve you of that discomfort.

Suddenly an idea popped in his head, lighting up his mind and making him feel quite dumb for not thinking of it earlier.

Your throat began to feel scratchy, but you felt too cold to actually crawl out of bed to go get some water. You rolled over, your body beginning to prop itself shakily on your elbows.

“Actually, Shoto, is it alright if you could get me a glass of-WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR SHIRT?!”

You screeched, your eyes blown out of your sockets.

There was your boyfriend….of barely 2 months….strolling around with his shirt off like some sexy god. His collared shirt was balled neatly in his hands, his taut muscles rippling with each movement as he stood in his full glory.

You gulped, your eyes drinking in the scene in front of you. God, you knew he was ripped...but not this ripped.

You could wash clothes on his damn abs, they were that pronounced!

“I thought that since my quirk has heat qualities to it, you could use it to your benefit.” He said nonchalantly, as if the sight of him just flaunting his body wasn’t enough to make you want to pounce on him. “Am I- making you uncomfortable?”

“I-uh-np-no it doesn't, its just…” you were stuttering, your hands fidgeting in your lap. It felt like your tongue was made out of cotton, your eyes only able to focus on how adorably messy his hair looked from taking off his shirt. “I'm not used to..to seeing you-”

You had been dating Shoto for a month or so now, and you couldn’t be happier. But the boy was shy with physical touch, and you were honestly a little bit of the same way. You hadn’t seen him show more skin than right now, only getting glances when he trained and accidentally burned his training uniform. You had always wished to see more of his perfectly built body-but you always imagined you would have some warning.

Shoto fidgeted in front of the bed, his cheeks a soft shade of red.

“I can put my shirt back on y/n, it's no trouble-”

“Please don't do that!” You yelled hastily, your eyes screaming with desperation. “Honestly, that's the last thing I want you to do,”

Crap, you sounded so perverted! You basically yelled at him “Please stay half naked I love your body and I’m thirsty for you.”

You never wanted to kick yourself harder.

Shoto didn’t seem to notice your dilemma, only nodding his head. He began to walk over to the opposite side of the bed, your body feeling a dip in the bed as he sat on the mattress.

Your heart began to quicken, staring at those bi colored eyes...god, he was so damn close.

“Very well then...skin to skin contact would be best. It’ll ensure the heat transfers directly to you.”

You gulped, propping yourself up more so you were now sitting up. HIs tone was so warm, so inviting, you could completely just melt into it like honey. But nervousness began to floss your stomach, making your whole body feel heavy-how he worded his sentence, he almost made it seem like he wanted you to undress to. God-the thought made your ears tinge pink, your eyes quinting to helplessly close that flustering thought away. It was tempting….but-Shoto was too modest to suggest something like that, especially when you were sick.

He leaned in close to you, each muscle in his arms rippling in a chain reaction as he took your hand in his own.

You were amazed at how warm his skin felt, the iciness in your veins scorched away by his touch. A sigh escaped your lips, relishing in that wonderful feeling. You were already craving more of that delicious warmth, your aching body crawling towards your shirtless boyfriend.

All worry and nervousness seemed to fade ever so slightly, your icy hands tentatively touching the boy's body. Your fingers trailed lightly against his ribcage, the sensation shooting electricity throughout Shoto’s body.

Shoto stiffened at the initial contact-he still felt extremely flustered with physical touches, but he began to melt into it and relish the feeling of your skin on his. Your arms wrapped gently around his broad shoulders, a small grin enveloping on s\Shoto’s face as he felt you snuggle your cheek into the crook of his neck.

“Are you sure this isnt a sneaky way for you to see me shirtless?” you joked, your voice muffled from your lips pressed against his skin.

Oh god-his instantly felt his quirk intensify, his flusterness taking over. His skin immediately began to heat up, his cheeks blushing starkly from your words.

“Oh no-I-I didnt mean it like that-my intent t was for you to stay clothed, I just-”

He was a stammering mess, and you couldn't find it any cuter. You giggled at his obvious nervousness, your lips pressing a kiss to his cheeks to quiet his stammering.

“Its fine, Shoto, I know you're a gentleman-,” you giggled, your hold on the boy becoming tighter as you soaked in his wonderful heat

“And Besides-your warmer when your flustered”

You snuggle yourself deeper into his shoulder, Shoto’s cheks tinged with a more intense red. You were so sweet and adorable in his eyes, his body loving every second of you touching his bare skin. Every caress felt like pure electricity was coursing through his veins, sending shivers down his back and head.

“Are you sure that wasn't a sneaky way to intensify my quirk y/n?” he asked cheekily, his voice having a hint of playfulness in it

Now it was your turn to blush, a small nervous giggle slipping out of your mouth

“Maybe…” you said, almost like a child who was caught doing something they weren't supposed to.

Shoto chuckled, his head turning to plant a quick kiss along your scalp.

God- you were too cute for your own good.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

(⚠️Mentions of panic attack!⚠️)

It was the dead of the night, an intense feeling of panic flooding the room.

You had just had a nightmare, the scene so real and intense that even when you woke up, you were sweating with uncontrollable fear.

Everything felt so small-the walls of the room were crushing your lungs, the sheets were tangling your legs together in a vise, the shadows felt like demons crawling to swallow you whole.

Shoto had thankfully woken up when you did, the sound of your muffled screams making him shoot up out of dead sleep.

But even with your protective boyfriend so close to you, reassuring you that you were okay and safe, you still felt like you were full of panic.

“Shoto-pls-I cant-cant-” you panted out, your voice cracking with anxiety. You couldn't get a breath of air it seemed like, as if your body was getting suffocated by your own mind.

Shoto was worried-he had never seen you so worked up, so terrified as if something was going to happen to you at any moment. He tried to comfort you, his hands gripping your shoulders in order to ground you, but it wasn't working- you were having an attack of some sort, your mind unable to bring you down from your panic.

“Y/n, you're fine, everythings fine-” he tried to reassure you soothingly, but it didn't work, your eyes still wide with terror.

“It doesn't feel fine!” you cried in panic, “ Everything is crazy, and heavy, I cant think straight Shoto I cant-”

Shoto felt his heart break hearing your voice- you almost sounded desperate, as if you were begging him to help you.

He cupped your face in his hands, his intense bi-colored eyes staring into you. Even in the dark, Shoto could see how shaken you were by your dream-your eyes were big and doe-like, shining as tears threaten to spill out. It made his heart ache, his mind determined to bring you down from your attack.

“-Give me your hands.” he commanded softly, his voice deep and silky. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, your breath still irregular and intense as you slowly gripped his wrists. Your digits were shaking as they wrapped around his skin, his hand quickly detaching from your face to entangle with your fingers.

“Just focus on my voice. Can you do that for me my love? Just focus on me-nothing else.”

You quickly close your eyes, trying to do exactly what your boyfriend instructed you to do.

“What does that feel like?”

A strong sensation of cold filled your hands, the icyiness nipping at your skin. It shocked you at first,the sting an unwelcome sensation. But then your skin slowly got used to the foreign touch, the dull pain bringing a starker clarity to your mind.

“It-its cold,” your words felt thick as they stumbled out of your mouth, each one a labor to process out of your cluttered mind. But it was slowly getting less foggy, the sensation gently swiping the panic away.

“What else?”

“Its smooth, like-like silk. And slippery,” your eyes were scrunched shut, desperately trying to form your words. It was still a struggle, but getting slightly easier to just focus on his touch.

“Good, you're doing wonderful-” Shoto congratulated, his tone having a hint of relief. He could already notice how you were affected by his ice, happy that it was helping you in some way. “how does it feel against your palms,”

“It kinda stings but...it's nice,”you smiled, the panic already ebbing out of you. Your breath was finally normal, your mind felt clear, and the panic inside you had deceased. “ It hurt at first but then its numbs so I can feel it.”

“Do you feel better? More grounded?” Shoto asked, his tone worried, but a part of him already knew the answer. The small, tired smile on your lips and your soft expression told him loud and clear you had finally calmed yourself from your panic.

You opened your eyes tentatively, a hum of acknowledgement ringing from your lips.

Shoto smiled at you, relief washing over his face. But he wanted you to completely rid yourself of the panic, worried that if you weren't calm enough, you’d fall asleep and wake again to another nightmare.

“Take a few deep breaths-it will reconnect you alot better.” he stated softly, watching you close your eyes again and slowly breath.

Inhale...exhale-repeat.

You did this three times, each one grounding you more and more. The room felt cool and spacious again, the sheets werent suffocating anymore, and you finally felt at peace with yourself once again.

A small blush of embarrassment began to creep on your cheeks, as the realization struck you that you had had a full blown panic in the middle of the night.

“Thank you… Im so sorry I freaked out so much-” you apologized, your face flustered from your actions.

Shoto only smiled, his other hand busy at work to slowly melt the ice on your palms.

“Y/n, dont apologize. That was your body’s reaction to stress, something you cant control. Just-if you ever feel like that again, please don't hesitate to get me.”

The ice was now a pool of water on the bed, the sheets sucking up the silky droplets .Shoto gave you a loving smile, his hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and leaning in to plant a gentle kiss against your forehead

“ I can help you,love-I just don't want you going through that alone,”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

You twisted on the sofa, your face smashed against a pillow as you tried to forget about the excruciating pain in your core.

“DAMN MY UTEREUS,” you yelled into the pillow in frustration, your words muffled against the fabric.

“Is everything alright y/n-san?” Shoto asked, his eyebrows cocked up in worry.

Shoto was fully aware that this week was your “period” week, the intense cravings and sudden moodiness days prior signalling the dreaded time. Shoto was pretty, well, clueless to the female system, only knowing the basics from school health classes. He had felt slightly nervous around you all week, tending to you as if you were sick and in need of his care.

Of course you had told him that all the attention wasn't necessary, you could survive on your own, but that didn't stop him from doing little things like buying you the food you were craving or a fresh set of feminine products. He wanted to prove to you and himself he could take care of you.

You groaned again, a wave of intense pain making you curl into yourself.

“No…” you grimaced, “ I feel like there’s a butcher hacking at my insides and this damn water bottle is doing nothing-”

Shoto cocked his head, looking up from the book he was reading.

“Water bottle?What is that used for?”

Sure enough, there you were, your hands placing a water bottle wrapped in a thin layer of paper towels against your lower back. Your hands were pushing against it, almost to get it as close to your skin as your face contorted with pain.

“Well...I kind lost my heat pad,” you explained,” so this is my next best solution to just heat this thing up-but its not doing anything-”

Shoto looked at you, his heart breaking at the look of utter discomfort on your face. You looked as though you couldn't take it anymore, your lips quivering and your eyes threatening to spill tears. It was absolutely painful for Shoto, and he felt like it was his duty to at least help alleviate the havoc going on inside your body.

He scooted his body next to yours, his eyes soft with concern. You noticed a dip in the couch as Shoto sat closer to you, the sensation of his hands wrapping around your waist making your eyes shoot open.

Before you could register what was going on, Shoto had expertly pulled your body into his lap, your breath knocked out of your chest and your heart thumping. The water bottle was long forgotten on the floor, your knees cradling Shoto’s sides as he looked at you with those intense, bi-colored eyes

“Can I see if I can be of any help?” he asked, his voice low

“Sure,” you gulped out, “ but I dont know if-uhuh-”

Shoto’s hands wrapped fury against your lower back, his palms radiating an intense heat you had been craving for . The heat was so soothing, something you had desperately needed, and you couldn't help but slump against the man in relief.

“Does that feel a little better, love?”

“God, so much better,” you exhaled out

This is what it felt like to be painless? You seriously loved you boyfriend… you reached around your back to place your hand on his own, guiding his delicious heat to the most critical areas

“Ah...can you do a little lower,,that's it, right there-”

You smiled in relief as you found the perfect spot, your arms wrapping around Shoto’s neck lovingly.

“Who knew you had so many talents Shoto? I have to keep a list of all the amazing uses for that quirk of yours-” you joked, your cheeks nuzzling itself into his neck.

“Also-Im just telling you right now that I wont be leaving your lap for the next few hours-”

Shoto smiled, his cheeks a warm shade of red. DId you always have to be this cute, nuzzling your head into him like a little kitten? He lifted his left hand up to your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Oh thats alright, love, that doesnt bother me one bit-”

You lifted your head up in shock, a surprised grin enveloping on your face.

“THE Shoto Todoroki? Being flirty? Never thought Id see the day-”

Shoto smiled at you, his bi-colored eye twinkling with adoration. You felt your heart skip a beat, that warm hand on your lower back intensifying as he planted a warm kiss to your cheek

“Only for you dear,”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

[cher-writes]

Aphrodisiac | Vladek Klimov X Reader (18+)

Read part 1

Word count: 4.5k

CW: NSFW, Drugs, Blood, Self inflicted wound, Choking, Ritualistic sex

A/N: This one is a wild one, people. Read the warnings carefully and skip this one if you don't feel like it. Reader discretion is advised. 

When you woke up, he was gone. The emptiness beside you sank into your skin and turned into a bottomless pit in your stomach. You slowly sat up and looked at the lonely clock ticking on your wall, 12pm. Orgasm induced sleep was always one of your greatest sedatives, but straight six hours after a night full of sleep? That was a bit too long. But after last evening and this morning, you couldn’t blame your body either. You wondered if you dreamt it all but the blood stains on your sheets told you otherwise. You lowered your nose and inhaled deeply, it smelt like him.

Ever since that day melancholy stained your whole existence. You had Vladek out of nowhere, in all that he is, but just as quickly he might as well have vanished from existence. The memory of him smiling softly and stroking your cheeks with his thumb before leaving you, came back to you afterwards. You were confused about whether or not you were imagining it to make yourself feel better. You wanted to be angry at him for leaving you without saying anything, but all you could feel was sad and empty. It was undeniable that you wanted him, more than you’ve ever wanted anyone or anything. Night after night you laid awake in your tub or the couch, thinking of him. There was a void in your heart, as if you’ve lost someone you’ve known for centuries. The pain was so intense that the ridiculousness of the situation didn’t quite register in your mind. He left you a mess in his wake. It felt at times, he took half of your heart with him. Everywhere you went, your eyes looked for him and before long, they found him.

You were sitting at the local restaurant that day, having breakfast as you didn’t feel like cooking. Well, more like fiddling with the food as your appetite was more or less dead ever since then. You were looking out of the window distractedly but your reverie broke when the waiter came by to offer you more coffee. After declining him,you were getting ready to jump right back into your woolgathering but something caught your eyes. It had become a second nature for you at that point to look for him, and at first you didn’t believe your eyes, after all you had been more or less delirious ever since he left you. But sitting a few tables in front of you, it was unmistakably that coat which you helped him out of that fateful evening. Those curls, you’d recognise them anywhere, you could almost feel those at your fingertips. Without a doubt it was him, you were taken aback by how quickly you recognised his back since all of this happened in the matter of a few milliseconds. He was talking to a town cop. You felt blood rush to the back of your neck as he soon got up, all the fervid memories from that morning flooding your mind. He turned around to leave and as he was walking by, he caught you in his gaze. He halted and smiled at you softly. By that point your brain had stopped working but for some reason your body decided to stand up abruptly, so quick that you almost knocked over the plate of food on the table. You walked up to him and stood inches away from his chest, your face completely blank. “Hey” he said with that heavy accent and ever so calm voice. “Hey um why did you leave without telling me?” you practically blurted out, voice shaking and breathless. He raised his brows slightly and said “Can we talk outside? In private?”. Your brain was a puddle at this point but you nodded quickly, somehow. Vladek flashed you another gentle smile and gestured to follow him.

You had been walking in silence for a while when he took a sharp turn into a dark desolate alley.

Being obsessed over a man you've known for less than 24 hours in total, was one thing but following him into dark alleys was a whole 'nother ball game! Even in your passionate malady you understood that fact but you just couldn’t stop yourself. His magnetic field pulled you in and like a lemming, followed his trail. When he stopped, you almost bumped into him but saved yourself from the embarrassment at the last moment. “Sorry i left that day without telling you” Vladek spoke up as he looked into your eyes, “I needed to be somewhere, it was urgent and i didn’t wanna wake you up. You look so pretty when you’re asleep”. It infuriated you how vague he always was. What did he mean exactly by ‘needed to be somewhere’? But you didn’t have it in you to ask him anything further. It was just like if God appeared in front of you out of nowhere in all his splendor, you wouldn’t be able to ask why he made things the way that he did. Besides him calling you pretty, basically killed every ounce of objection you had against him. “Oh. I see. I’m sorry i, um, i shouldn’t have lashed out like that” you meekly said in return. “It’s okay, (Y/N). It’s not your fault” he said and indeed it wasn’t your fault. He had this strange effect on you that made you do things you had no control over. He was staring at your eyes, breaking the eye contact once to look down at your lips and back to staring again. It was chilling cold outside and the tension between the two of you was agonizing. You could feel his warm breath on your face. You were inching closer, wanting to seize the opportunity and bask your lips in the heat of his lips. But he spoke up and jolted you back to your senses again, “Will you, em, help me with something?”. And at that moment if he asked you to jump off a cliff, you would.

You were walking in circles around the mattress which laid in the middle of your living room. You did as you were told. You were taking deep breaths, trying to control your breathing but you could practically hear your heart, beat out of your chest. You didn’t quite remember what exactly he explained, you couldn’t pay attention. All you heard was “ritual” and “sex”.

But like a diligent student you mentally noted down the few instructions that he gave- put a mattress on an empty floor, do not ingest any substance and wait. He said he’d arrive as soon as the sun went down on the new moon evening. It was quite cold inside due to your damn heater malfunctioning but you were on the brink of sweating as you stared at your front door in anticipation and before long, you could hear knocks.

When you opened the door, cold wind washed over your body but you didn’t feel a thing. Vladek was standing there in his mask and glasses and for a split second all the murder and the rumors flashed through your mind. Yet you weren’t afraid, cause you believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was there to save you and the town. You stepped to the side to let him in. As soon as he was inside you closed the door and awkwardly stood leaning against the door frame.

He promptly took off this mask and his coat. One look at that face and your heart was racing at a thousand miles per hour again. “Hey (Y/N)” he said, his face unreadable. You greeted him in return. 

-“Do you mind if we start right now?”

- “No, no. Not at all”

He nodded and then crouched over the bag that he brought with him. There was a silent rush in his movements. After a little bit of rifling through, he pulled out a small bottle. 

He walked up to you with the bottle in his hand, you could feel the air getting heavier. The bottle was clear and you could make out some sort of an oil inside. “I need you to anoint yourself with this before you cleanse yourself”, his voice was quite raspy. His fingers brushed against yours as you took the bottle from his hands and your skin burned at thiat slight contact. “What type of water?” you almost whispered. He raised his brows slightly at your question, the corner of his mouth curled up a bit as he said “huh?”. “Do i use cold water or warm water? Do I take a bath or a shower? Also do i-” you were rambling on when he chuckled and said “okay okay (Y/N), calm down. Just wash your body in any water, however you want. If anything specific is to be done i’ll tell you, yeah?”. You nodded meekly. You were beyond nervous and you felt detached from your body. But when you looked at him, all you wanted to do was to touch his face and then maybe throw him against the wall. But you couldn’t do that, not yet. So you collected all your thoughts and yourself then made your way to the bathroom.      

When you were done taking a shower, your body felt more relaxed. All the tension built in your muscles for the past couple hours, no- past couple of days, washed away with the warm water. Although was that because of the warm water or the fact that he was waiting for you in the living room, was debatable. Your body smelt of strange wild flowers from the oil. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you were on your way.

You were deliberately walking slow. With every step that you took, your heartbeat started going up again. The reality of the situation was just setting in, you were about to participate in some sort of a sex ritual with vladek. The thought in itself sent shivers down your core. You were contemplating turning around and running out the back door when your feet finally arrived at the entrance of your living room. Your breath hitched and you stopped in your tracks when you saw him standing there in white pajama pants. The room was dark, there were candles circling the mattress. A skull decorated with blood red fathears sat facing the mattress. A knife rested by the side of the mattress. The warm yellow glow of the candles reflected off his smooth body as he turned around, a chalice in his hands. He looked ethereal and adrenaline rushed your body. Whether out of fear or lust, you didn’t know.

Vladek walked up to you, took a sip from the chalice and then handed it to you, “here, drink this”. And you did without much hesitation. It tasted quite bitter and you wondered how easily he could poison you. And as if he could read your mind he said, “Don’t worry, i’m not poisoning you. It’s an aphrodisiac mixed with mild relaxants”. His presence in itself was anesthetic for you and his voice more of an aphrodisiac than any substance will ever be. He took the chalice from your hands and put it on the floor. As you watched him you thought to yourself how cruel he was for using you like this even if it was for saving the town. At this point you didn't worry about the town or your own life, he could stab you with that knife for all you cared. He was cruel for using your infatuation and you'd be damned for eternity if you said you didn't relish every moment of it. “Is there anything you want to ask me (Y/N)?” he said in a mellow voice.

-“Why do this ritual?”

-“To save fortitude”

-“But how does this help?”

-“You see, only a woman is the most wise and powerful, feared by all. Loved by all the shamans.The knowledge of good and evil is tied at its root to sexuality and it is only through the height of orgasm that Gnosis can be achieved. And when the woman orgasms the veil between the worlds collapses and communicating with them is possible. I need to talk to them and ask for strength for what i need to do next”    

You wanted to ask him what it all meant. What was gnosis, who are “they” and how the fuck could you possibly collapse the veil but again, you didn’t have it in you to ask him more than two things at a time. “Are you sure you want to do this? (Y?N), I want you to know that this is only for spiritual purposes and you can say no now or at any time during the ritual if you want to. I need you to be fully willing”, the softness in Vladek’s voice was hurting you this point. You nodded a yes quickly. You two then stood in silence staring at each other for what seemed like a lifetime to you until he extended his right hand to you. You figured he was asking you to disrobe. You unraveled the towel and handed it to him which he swiftly discarded. You were completely naked under his stare yet you didn’t feel a hint of embarrassment, there was something so sacramental in the ambience or maybe it was just the drugs. “Okay step in the circle carefully” he said and you complied. “Now get down on your knees over the mattress”, you obeyed like your life depended on it and sat facing him. He picked up sage from his bag and lit it. Soon the room was filled with smoke, you could barely see anything. He was going around you in circles, occasionally bringing the sage so close that you could feel its heat on your skin, all while chanting something. His movements were ceremonial. Then he stopped, laid the still burning sage on the chalice and stepped in the circle, murmuring through out. You were unnaturally calm for your nature, your heart was beating in a soothing rhythm. When you looked up, he was standing, towering over you. In the heavy fragrant smoke and dull candle lights his frame looked celestial, you couldn’t quite make out his eyes. He then slowly lowered himself until he was on his knees too, eye to eye with you. The close proximity to him kicked something in you and adrenaline flooded you once again. He reached to your side and grabbed the knife. Vladek was looking directly into your eyes, his stare supernatural, as he slashed a bit over his collarbone. Blood oozed out and then started dripping down his chest, soaking his white pants. Your jaw dropped at this sight, yet he didn’t move a muscle. He closed his eyes and uttered something then proceeded to draw symbols in some ancient language on his chest with the blood. When he was done he opened his eyes and said “trace these glyphs with your tongue”, his voice was commanding yet tender. It was getting hard for you to keep your thoughts together so you did as you were told.

You started at the top, he hissed slightly when you licked the wound. The coppery taste of the blood and his warm skin were creating a sensation in your tongue you had never felt before. His silky smooth chest rose up and down slowly while you were tracing all the strange symbols. When you were done you sat back waiting for the next instruction. Instead he cupped your face and wiped the blood from your lips with his thumbs. At that exact moment you understood what was wrong with you since the day you met him; He put a spell on you by his beauty then cursed you by his touch. Your head was rattling like crazy. He pushed you back gently until you were lying half down, supported by your elbows. Vladek climbed on top of you like a serpent. You were feeling dizzy, your eyes felt too heavy to blink. What snapped you out of it was his voice against your ears, your own flavor of aphrodisiac. He was chanting something, you didn't understand what he was saying whether it was because of the language or the drugs you couldn't possibly comprehend at that point. He started going down; ghosting his lips over your neck, nape, collarbones, chest, stomach, chanting some crude ancient hymn. You would kill at that point to have his lips on your skin but he carefully kept just enough of a distance that you could feel his sultry breath burning holes on your skin but not the touch of his delicate lips

You were wanting and waiting for even the slightest bit of contact when whatever “they” he talked about, answered your prayers. Vladek slipped his left hand under you and started laying you down further as he caressed your stomach with his right hand, kindly pushing until you were lying completely flat against his hand on your lower back. Your breath jerked when you felt his warm hands spreading your thighs. Even the drugs this time couldn’t stop the white hot rush that rose from embarrassment and submerged your whole existence. You were trying to take deep breaths and calm yourself down, reminding yourself that what was happening was purely spiritual yet the intrinsic responses of your body held other beliefs. As you were trying to hobble your heart, you felt his fervid lips on your cunt and electricity shot through your spine straight into your brain. For a moment you felt like your brain would melt into a liquid.

Vladek’s warm tongue glided up and down, making your body quiver at every small movement. You weren’t sure if your heart even existed at this point, either it stopped beating or was beating so fast it didn’t register in your brain. You felt your core tightening, almost on the brink of a collapse. Your breathing was becoming shallow and irregular, you were waiting for the bliss when he suddenly stopped. You’d whine and ask him why if your body didn’t feel like it was under a thousand miles of water. He slowly sat up and said “Get up”. Not a bone in your body felt like they were solid enough to support you. He probably sensed something and helped you get up. You were swaying mildly from the lightheadedness, rubbing your thighs together coyly to relief yourself from the edge and the aching that consumed you. He grabbed your arms firmly and gave you a quick shake to steady you, and it worked, as much as it was possible for a high, aroused woman on the edge of an orgasm, to sit still. Vladek reached for that knife again, and you wondered if he’d slash your throat this time as a sacrifice or something, not that you would be able to run right then even if you wanted to and you didn’t either. You’d happily die by the hands of a man like him. As your questionable morbid thoughts ran, he held the knife right in front of your face. “Cut your right index finger on this”, his honey like accent made that sound much more appealing than it actually was. You’d raise your brows if you could feel them. You were sure it wasn’t you who lifted that finger and slid it across the knife, your brain wasn’t controlling your body anymore. Blood started dipping down your hand, yet you didn’t feel any pain, again probably the drugs. He grabbed your hand with his right hand, you tried but couldn’t anticipate where it was going until he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. He put your finger on his tongue and drew some symbols again. His warm tongue was fluttering ever so slightly under your touch and you wanted to grab his face and slam him against the floor, crashing your mouth into his, but, not yet. 

After drawing the symbols, Vladek licked your wound to stop the bleeding and when he let your finger go you very quickly started missing the warmth of his mouth. His lips were glimmering from your fluids in the flickering yellow lights and you decided to keep this memory in the depth of your, probably not beating anymore, heart. You were pretty sure you were thinking in slow motion because when you were done thinking that, you were lying on your back again somehow. And just as soon, his soft tongue was back on your cunt again, only this time it was circling your clit in languid motions. It was almost as if he picked up where he left cause your body was just as quickly on the ledge again. It was getting difficult to breathe with every passing moment. You tried really hard but you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, it took you a bit of an effort but you slid your fingers in his lush curls, holding onto them for dear life. His mouth worked skillfully on you, licking, sucking, driving you to the point of madness. You were almost there and as if afraid that he’ll stop again, you thrust your hips upwards which resulted in his nose pressing at just the right angle, resulting in your orgasm to push you down a cliff into a valley of pure bliss. You moaned out and shuddered vehemently as you rode through it. It was unlike any other orgasm you ever had. The room felt like it was crumbling down, the atmosphere falling apart. You couldn’t even feel his presence anymore. The candles burnt brightly and It was just you, violent euphoria within you and euphoric violence outside of you. Your back arched up, your head on the brink of snapping from your neck. You opened your eyes and it met with the hollow caters of the skull. A bright light flashed before you and you passed out.

When you came back, you were lying perfectly still. Your head was clear as a summer sky, your body felt like you had just come out of an ice cold bath. Which was weird considering the experience you just had was only comparable to a volcanic rapture. You felt vitalized, as if you’ve been sleeping for a few decades. You sat up quickly to find Vladek sitting crossed legged facing you, eyes closed and praying. You tried to cover yourself with your hands, feeling awfully naked. The candles were burnt almost to the ground, the air now mostly clear of smoke. He opened his eyes slowly and smiled at you softly. “How are you feeling?” he said in his gentle voice. “Good, feeling good, great um are we done?” you said abruptly. “Yes, yes we are” he replied and then got up. He quickly mumbled something and went out of the circle. He picked up the towel and handed it over to you which you promptly wrapped around yourself. You got out of the circle, standing awkwardly besides him. “Did it, um, work?” you said, trying to cut the uncomfortable silence.

-“Yes it did, thank you”

-“No problem”

-“I’ll clean all of this, don't worry, you can go to sleep if you want to. It’s a bit late”

-“I’m not tired”

-“I see”

-“I’m sorry by the way, for um, grabbing your hair back then impromptu”

-“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it”

-“Are you gonna leave afterwards?”

-“I do have things i need to tend to”

-“Oh. Okay”

You two nodded at each other like workplace colleagues who barely know each other. Which was unnerving for you, considering what just went down. The idea of him leaving made your heart ache, which was surprisingly still beating. If it was up to you, you’d chain him to your bed and never let him go but you were too young to be known as the town’s freak criminal. You wanted to say something, ask him to stay but could barely think about the concept of words. You awkwardly grabbed his wrist, surprisingly slow in your action. He looked down at his wrist then back at you again with amused but questioning eyes. 

You were trying to gather all your thoughts, trying to say something, anything when Vladek spoke up, “Do you want me to stay?”. “Yes”, you answered a bit too avidly. Suddenly there was razor sharp tension in the air you both shared. You blinked and the next moment you were on your toes, cupping his face and forcing your tongue down his mouth. His hands lingered on the small of you back as he lowered himself to kiss you back. You were trying to devour him as you bit his lips, drawing a groan from him. Soon you were up against the wall as he was leaving marks all over your body. The ceremonial energy was nowhere to be seen in his being anymore and at that point he was indistinguishable from a wild animal. Your eyes met with his, both panting, bare chest to chest, there was instinctual longing in the way he looked at you. You reached down to feel his hard cock over his pants, stroking roughly making him grunt in response. “I want you, inside of me, like right now” you managed to blurt out and with that you were pinned on the couch. His tongue colliding with yours, your hands tugging at his silky curls. You were lost in the kiss when you felt him inside of you, stretching you out. You gasped in his mouth and he chuckled softly. But soon he was in rhythm, rough yet kind in his thrusts. Your nails were digging deep in his back. You could feel your orgasm building up again so you flipped him and got on top. Riding him to your heart’s content as he watched you in awe, your right hand wrapping his neck and the left one clutching his shoulder for support. You could feel his muffled groan under your palm. When you came you were looking directly into his eyes, moaning his name, your hands clenching a bit too intensely that you intended. As your high slowly calmed down you loosened your grip. Still thrusting sloppily trying to make it last as long as you could, when you felt him come inside of you. His chest rose as he kissed you through it. Soon after you were lying by his side. You wanted to rest your head on his chest, tell him that you liked him. But it was ridiculous to say that to someone you’ve known for such a little time. It was him who reached out and intertwined his fingers with yours, which took you by surprise. He was smiling softly at you. Vladek was shining like a god in the afterglow, he smelt divine and it pained you to fathom him not being with you for eternity. “Will you wake me up before you leave tomorrow morning?”, you almost choked while saying that.

“I wouldn’t dare to do otherwise.”

But you didn’t really want to wake up the next day. This was as close to heaven as you’d get and you wanted it to last forever. As you were falling asleep you decided to chain him to your bed if you woke up, pandemonium could swallow the town for all you cared.       

[amylillian22]

My Best Friend - Part 2 - Chris Evans Imagine

Word Count: 1,967

Warnings: Talks of nude photos

Author's Note: Y'all wanted and asked for a part 2. Please be gentle with me. I must have came up with something and deleted every draft at least 4 times before I settled with this draft. I'm still iffy about it, but let me know what you think!

Chris push his key in Y/N apartment in the lock and unlocked it. Normally he would let her know when he was coming over, but he hadn't heard from her all day. She wasn't answering his phone calls or text messages. Naturally, he was worried and wanted to see if she was okay.

"Okay! I'm here! What's wrong?" Chris shouted as he closed the front door with his foot. He had a case of Y/N favorite's alcoholic drink and her favorite pint of ice cream in the other. He wasn't sure how bad whatever she was going through was, but he made sure to bring two of her favorites to choose from.

"Chris?" Y/N shouted back. She was in the living room. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, you didn't answer me all day," he said as he walked down the hallway and when he turned to go into the living room, he saw a guy he had never seen before on the couch with Y/N. "I figured something was wrong..." he trailed.

"Whoa!" The guy shot up from the sofa. "You're Captain America, bro!"

"Alright, Kenny, it's time to go," Y/N started guiding him towards the door.

"But, he just got here and I wanna hang out with him," Kenny protested. "Why didn't you tell me you were friends with him?! I could have been friends with him this whole time!"

"That's exactly why I didn't tell you," Y/N said. "Goodbye, Kenny."

"Wait!" He shouted, but Y/N had already closed the door on him. She let out a frustrated groan.

Chris stood at the end of the hallway and saw Y/N leaning against the door with her eyes closed. He cleared his throat, causing her to open her eyes. For a split second, she forgot he was there. She walked towards him and noticed the items in his hands. She grabbed the pint of ice cream and made her way to the small kitchen to grab two spoons. Chris put the drinks in the refrigerator. She grabbed his hand and led him to her bedroom. They made themselves comfortable and leaned against the headboard. She opened the pint of ice cream and gave him a spoon.

"So, who was that?" Chris asked. He had an inkling feeling of who it could have been. Since she admitted to it, Chris hadn't let go of the idea that she had been sending out nudes to some guy. Truth is he didn't know all the facts. He didn't know if there was just one guy or a couple. However, this guy admitted he had known Y/N for a while, and he couldn't help but wonder exactly how long.

She swallowed her spoonful and gave him the pint, letting him get his turn with the ice cream. "Kenny and he came here because I dumped him."

Chris paused before putting his spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. He bit his lip, trying to take in this new information she had given him. He didn't want to say anything just yet. Not until he got the full details.

"Elaborate," was all he said.

Y/N moved her spoon around the pint of ice cream, stalling. She blew her lips, letting out a raspberry sound. "Kenny is someone I matched with on Tinder..."

"Oh," Chris mumbled. He stole another spoonful of ice cream, knowing he needed all the extra comfort he could get.

"About two years ago," she finished.

"Two years?!" Chris yelped, causing him to cough as he swallowed the ice cream wrong. He cleared his throat several times after he stopped. He hadn't even noticed Y/N had left and came back with a water bottle for him. He gladly took it, feeling a relief as the cool water went down his throat.

She crossed her legs as she sat in front of him. "I'm sorry." He didn't say anything. He was hurt about all of this. Not only was he jealous of Kenny, but she hid a relationship from him. She knew she hurt him looking into his hurt blue eyes. "Truthfully, he wasn't worth talking about. He and I literally had a friends with benefits thing going on, except we focused more on the benefits and weren't exactly friends."

"Okay, I think I'm done hearing about this," he began to move, ready to leave her bed, but she stopped him. He looked down at the hand on his forearm before he looked up and saw the tears welling in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I lied and kept him for you. He honestly doesn't mean anything to me. He never has and he never will. I broke up with him because I couldn't do it anymore," she sniffles. "I told myself I would never tell you, but I have to you."

Y/N wasn't talking about Kenny anymore and Chris knew it. He just didn't know exactly what else she had been hiding from him.

"I broke up with him because I can't kept lying to myself. I've been in love with someone else for as long as I can remember. I only used Kenny as a distraction, even though it never really worked. In the end, I only ended up hurting myself more. And, I hope I wasn't hurting this other guy either."

"No," Chris shook his head and got out her bed. "I don't want to hear anymore. I thought I wanted to know, but knowing now, I didn't need to know about Kenny. And, I certainly don't want to know about this other guy you've been in love with all these years!" He started pacing back and forth. "How could you keep something like this from me? I never hid anything from you! But now you're telling me you've been in love with someone else ... for years?!" It was no doubt the neighbors heard Chris raising his voice after each sentence. He was furious. He stood there, panting in rage, and his hands balled up in tight fists.

"Why didn't you tell me?" This time his voice wasn't angry. He sounded so betrayed and hurt.

"Because I was afraid it would ruin our friendship! I'm more scared to lose you as my best friend, Chris." Tears slowly made their way down her cheeks. Her hand shook as she wiped away her own tears, completely terrified how he would respond.

His jaw dropped realizing she was talking about him.

"Also, I never said anything because I knew you never felt that way about me." Chris just stood there in complete shock. "Now, I'm definitely wishing I hadn't told you. I should have never said anything. Just forget it."

She turned on her heel, ready to escape her own room and leave the apartment. She felt completely embarrassed. Chris grabbed her elbow and spun her around before she could reach her bedroom door.

"I- You-," he was at a loss of words, but he knew he couldn't let her walk out after confessing her feelings. "Give me a minute."

She shook her head. "It's okay, Chris. I know you don't feel that way about me. Just don't let this ruin our friendship, okay? Please."

"No, no, no," he repeated. "I feel the same way about you."

"No, you don't," she said.

His eyes narrowed at her. "You don't know how I feel."

"Chris, I'm not stupid. You've been seeing someone-"

"So, have you!" He snapped.

"Not in the same way as you have been!" She snapped back.

Chris sighed. "Look, I'll admit, I never had feelings for you-" her eyes welled up at his words. "But," he emphasized, "ever since you told me about your nudes, I haven't stopped thinking about you, in a non-best friend way."

She furrowed her eyebrows, completely confused. She didn't know exactly what he meant. Did he only think about what she looked like naked? Or was he thinking about what it would be like to date her and kiss her, have a relationship with?

He grabbed her hand and led her to her bed. They sat on the edge of her bed, still holding on to her hand. She looked down at their hands as Chris slowly intertwined his fingers with hers. Her heart skipped a beat at the small action.

"When I found out you had been sending out your own nudes, I felt jealous. Not that someone was seeing you naked, but jealous at the fact that you had some other guy in your life besides me. Although it was just sex, you still had some form of a relationship with someone else for two years and that really bugs because I'm jealous," he confessed.

"Chris, as much as I'm in love with you, I wish you hadn't said that," she spoke softly and carefully.

"What? I thought you'd be happy," he said, removing his hand from hers. His heart sank and he had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looked into her sad, and broken eyes.

"Because I don't want to you lose you , especially as my best friend," she repeated.

"You-"

"I'm going to be brutally honest with you. You're scared of commitment. It's no secret that you are. What if we give this a try and you freak out? Or what if it doesn't actually work out for whatever reason? As much as I know I would love to have you as something more, I know I would grieve more of the loss of having you as my best friend," she admitted.

Chris stared at her as she spoke. He completely knew where she was coming from and he didn't blame her. He has always been scared of commitment, which is why the women he had been involved with the past never worked out. However, none of those ladies were Y/N. Other than his family, she's the only person Chris has known for so many years and made sure she was always in it. Now, he was damn sure he would never live his life without her.

"Chris," she whispered. "Say something."

He decided to say something bold, very bold. He cupped her cheeks and pulled her in, his lips immediately capturing hers. Y/N was taken back, completely caught off guard, but she eventually moved her lips along with his.

His lips were so soft and gentle against hers. He had to be careful. It was obvious as much as she loved him, she didn't want something more out of fear. That's what stopped her from admitting her feelings to him in the past. But, he couldn't get enough of her soft strawberry lips. He kissed her deeply, with so much passion. His lips had released butterflies in her stomach, making her toes curl at the wonderful sensation.

As much as he wanted to continue kissing her, he pulled back a little bit. His lips brushed against hers, their warm breaths fanning against their lips. Y/N licked her lips before she bit her bottom lip. Chris' forehead was pressed against hers. He cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing against her cheekbone.

"You still haven't said anything," she whispered.

Chris chuckled, his lips forming a wide smile. "Y/N, I'm in love with my best friend and I have never been more sure of anything in life. You have always been a part of my life and I wouldn't want it any other way."

Y/N's eyes welled up with tears of joy. She leaned and kissed him. "I love you, too, Chris."

[justimagineitblog]

“You Used To Love Me” Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 8

A/N: OKAY YOU GUYS.... NEW CHARACTER ALERT..... 

INTRODUCING: Charlie Hunnam - he fit the idea for this character perfectly so I decided to use his face and name for this new character x

Also lotsss of jealous Michael !!!!!!!!! I loved writing this chapter, it was so entertaining to bring in a new character and throw a spanner in the works. I hope you enjoy it xxx

“We’re going to a benefit event this weekend, for networking. They haven’t seen us show our faces for a long time, and I think it’s about time we do”

That’s what Tommy had announced yesterday at the meeting. Gina had clapped excitedly, exclaiming to Michael how she’d never been to an English ball before.

I, however, could not have been less enthusiastic. Up until now I have not had to deal much with Gina and Michael as a pair. Michael alone is already way to much for me to handle emotionally. Moments I’m around him are spent with a racing mind and heart as I try and figure out what he is thinking. And even in moments where we’re not around each other, my every thought is consumed by him. It has been two days since Michael and I shared that moment in the office, and I’m still recovering. I can still physically feel the pit in my stomach, and the way my stomach dropped when I saw the tears on Michael’s face. I replay it on a continuous loop. And the last thing he said to me has had me completely torn up in an internal battle. He had said he wanted this. And I can’t stop obsessing over whether the use of past tense means that this is not what Michael wants anymore. That he wanted Gina. He wanted to marry her. He wanted me to keep away from him. But maybe he isn’t so sure anymore?

But hey, it’s not like I’m ever going to ask him what the hell he is thinking. What he is doing. What happened. Does he regret it? I could never ask him. Because maybe Michael will never wake up to himself. And there is no way in hell I’m letting my heart get broken twice.  As for Michael, he has barely even looked at me since. Talk about whose avoiding who now. Michael is pretty much doing my job for me. Dipping out of every room quickly when I walk in. Looking at the floor or practically anywhere but at me when we have to be around each other.

Right now I’m stood here trying on 6 different dresses to wear to the races today, growing even more frustrated at how none of them are just right.

I haven’t dressed up in a long time. I was even slightly excited at the idea. But now I just feel defeated. I used to love putting on my best dress and watching Michael melt. The look on his face when he would see me. The way he would whisper to me, letting me know I wouldn’t have the dress on for much longer once we got home.

But no one is looking now.

Sighing, I settle on a floor length, yellow gown. I haven’t worn it yet. I slip into it, feeling out of place and worthless. Funny how everything looked better when it was under Michael’s gaze.

Now I’m just a girl in a yellow dress.

I rush through the rest of my makeup and hair, hurrying out of my apartment just in time for the car that the Shelby’s organised for me. The whole car ride I clutch my purse nervously. I can only imagine Gina will look stunning. And I will have to watch Michael look at her the way he used to look at me. As I see the event grow closer in the horizon, I want to hijack the vehicle and go home. Desperately. But at least Polly, Tommy and Arthur will be there. I can’t let them down. This is important for my job. I need to make moves and network with people.

That’s all I have to do. Just keep my head down and do my job.

I feel completely out of my body as I slide out of the car, expecting my legs to give way underneath me. I head up the steps to the entrance where they will ask for my name and who I’m with. Normally I would show up with Michael and no questions would be asked. We would get a respectful nod from the doorman and be let in without questions asked. I almost wish that I might just fall down the steps and straight into a black hole where I don’t have to go ahead with this. But now it’s too late. I’m greeted at the door by tall men who could do a lot of damage and a woman with a clipboard.

“Isabelle. I’m on the Shelby Limited table” I say abruptly, completely ignoring her warm welcome. I don’t mean to, but my mind is completely in a foggy haze. As she runs her finger down the paper to check I’m on list, I search the room full of people behind the security guards. No signs of Michael or Gina. Yet.

“Not a problem, go ahead ma’am” she nods as the security guards separate for me to walk through. I stare at the busy room ahead like a deer in headlights, composing myself before I set foot inside. Wearing my best fake smile I begin weaving my way through the crowd. I search desperately for the Shelby’s in every face I see with no luck. Knowing my fortune, I’ll probably run straight into Michael and Gina.

But maybe tonight the lucky stars are on my side. As I reach the top of the stair well that will lead into the heart of the party, I scan the room once more. This time, my eyes land on Tommy, Polly and Arthur. With a sigh of relief, I practically fly down the stairs. Not even caring if I trip and fall. I just need to get to my people. Where I feel safe. Tommy spots me, and soon after Polly and Arthur do too.

As I finally reach them I pull her into my arms for a much needed hug. I’m already on edge and I’ve only just arrived. Tonight is going to be fun… When we let go, she holds me out in front of her, looking me up and down.

“Good god girl” she exclaims, shaking her head.

“Do I look okay?”

“Are you fucking joking, you look stunning”

Her compliment steady’s my nerves a little, and before I know it Tommy is reaching out to me. I take his hand and he pulls me in, placing a gentle kiss on my cheek.

“You look beautiful Izzy” he coos, his eyes are warm and genuine “And don’t forget to breathe, eh” He chuckles as he notices my energy. I’m nervous wreck and just about anyone could tell. Right now I feel like a slight breeze could knock me off my feet.

I exhale slowly, nodding at him. No one calms me like Tommy can. He is always so strong. Calm. Steady. Sure of himself. And that rubs of on me every time.

He gives me a quick reassuring wink like he always does, as Arthur butts into the conversation.

“Fucking hell eh,” his rough voice booms as pulls me in for a hug like Arthur always does “Wait till Michael gets a load of this-“

Polly swats at him immediately, hitting his arm with her hang bag.

“Well we won’t have to wait long for that now will we-“ Tommy retorts in a hushed voice as his eyes lock on someone in the distance.

Simultaneously, we all look over our shoulders to see Michael and Gina headed our way. A giant pit begins to hollow out in my stomach immediately at the sight of them. They haven’t noticed us yet as they walk with their arms linked, laughing and talking with each other.

Almost as if it was perfect timing, a waiter greets us, offering glasses of wine. Without thinking I reaching for one, throwing it back faster than I probably should. I can feel Polly’s look of concern as she watches me skull the drink.

“Hello everyone” I hear Gina’s obnoxious accent greet us as her and Michael finally meet up with us.

Mustering up whatever small amount of liquid courage the wine gave me, I place my empty glass down on the table and turn to face them with tight lipped smile.

The second Gina’s eyes fall over me, she transforms from a smiling trophy wife to a stone cold statue. They lock onto me like lasers before raking up and down my body, the same way they did on the first day we met. When her eyes finally meet mine again, she looks absolutely livid. Fuming. I’ve seen that same look on her before.

Possessively, she tightens her grip on Michael’s arm. Michael. I hadn’t even dared to look at him yet. But just like always it doesn’t take long for our darting eyes to meet. When they do, I find that he looks speechless. Frozen. His lips are parted in what I can only assume is shock. As he stares at me, at my body, he looks… breathless. Which is probably exactly how I look right now. I feel wildly uncomfortable, my heart rate picking up it’s pace as he gazes at me without blinking.

Tommy, Arthur and Polly quickly begin talking to ease the tension. They begin complimenting Gina on how lovely she looks. She’s dressed in a tight, silver gown, with her signature fur shawl drapes over her shoulders.

“It’s vintage” Gina smiles proudly, before turning her attention back to Michael. But the smile from her ego being stroked is quickly slapped of her face when she she’s how Michael is staring at me. Her head snaps towards him, looking completely offended that he’s even looking at me. She stares at her husband in bewilderment, but then her head rotates towards me. She clears her throat, which startles Michael. His eyes quickly dart away from my body, his neck growing red under his collar.

“Yellow…” Gina begins raising her eyebrows at me “How sweet, you look… bright”

She knows exactly what she’s doing. Her voice is so condescending its basically dripping with it. And her sweet smile is anything but sweet. It’s vicious. Forced. Tight lipped.

I want to bite back. I want to tell her how much that fur shawl she thinks makes her look expensive actually just looks like something she killed and skinned herself.

But I don’t. This woman has taken everything from me. I won’t let her take my pride. My dignity.

I take slow, calming deep breath before responding to her attempt at offending me with a cool smile. Underneath my skin she might have me boiling with rage. But I would never show her that.

“You look stunning Gina”

Her brows furrow ever so slightly as she fights to control the shock on her face. I caught her off guard. She expected me to strike back. To make a fool of myself. But I won’t let her have that satisfaction.

Then without quite knowing why, I turn to Michael, who looks like he’s about to have a heart attack when I lock my eyes onto his. I can see his stomach doing back flips as he waits in anticipation for what I’m about to say.

“And you have a beautiful wife, you must be so lucky”

And with one last smile, I excuse myself from the group and walk away. I try to walk with a strong stride, as if I’m sure of where I’m going. But I’m not. I’m just walking in any direction that will take me away from them, weaving through strangers as the adrenaline leaves my body. I’m not trying to leave, but I need to catch my breath for a second.

I need fresh air… and another drink.

Somehow, I manage to find my way to a back court yard, full off people smoking to relieve their stress. I’m not a smoker, but it’s still fresh air. And hell, at least I’m not the only one trying to escape the party. I don’t know why they bother coming out here, people are lighting up cigarettes inside anyway.

I find an empty chair to sit in, and I’m relieved to be able to stop for a second and gather myself. I can’t believe Gina. That woman is vile. Vicious. Poisonous. A snake dressed up in vintage dresses. Michael staring at me like he’s just seen a ghost.

My thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a mans voice, asking if he can take a seat. I look up in the direction of the voice and find myself stunned. He is tall, much taller than me even though I’m sitting I can still see that he towers over me. He greets my shock with a warm smile. He seem’s nice enough.

“Uh, yes, of course” I quickly reply, realising I’m just staring like a someone who doesn’t know how to act in social situations.

“Sorry, for frightening you” he smiles sheepishly as he takes a seat. God, am I that easy to read.

“No, it’s fine, honestly, I was just thinking” I shake my head

“Thinking is good” he smirks, then extends a slender hand towards me “I’m Charlie”

“Isabelle” I introduce myself, feeling oddly comfortable around this man. I take his hand in mine and shake it gently.

“I’ll let you continue thinking?” He asks, suddenly looking guilty for interrupting my solitude.

“No please,” I shake my head, urging him to continue talking “That’s the last thing I want to be doing”

“Noted” he grins back “What brings you here, Isabelle”

“To this court yard or to this ball?” I tease, surprised at my own playfulness.

“Let’s start with the ball first then”

“To the ball… Work”

“And to this luxurious court yard?” He jokes, gesturing to our slightly run down surroundings.

I pause for a moment. What do I say? That I just ran away from my ex partner and his new wife? That I’m hiding from them to avoid the suffocating tension between us? Because I think he still loves me but he won’t just admit it?

“The fresh air” I retort sarcastically.

He watches me closely, the glint of a smile in his eyes as the corners of his mouth curl up. He nods, accepting that he’s not going to get anymore out of me than that. But I feel bad. Normally I’m an open book. I love people. But my situation with Michael is far to complex even me to understand, let alone explain to a stranger. Feeling guilty for not giving him much of a decent conversation, I turn to face him directly.

“What about you, Charlie?”

He hums, looking up as he thinks “To the court yard or the ball?”

I can’t help but grin at his quick wit, as he gives me a dose of my own medicine. But clearly only jokingly teasing me, he continues to answer my question.

“Here to support my brother, he runs one of the charities being honoured tonight”

I smile. This man. Charlie. He is sweet.

“To the court yard, however, I have also come to get fresh air. These kinds of events aren’t really my thing”

“You and me both” I nod “Not that we’re getting much fresh air anyway”

He laughs softly, nodding along with me in agreement.

“Do you drink, Isabelle?” He questions

“Only on days that end with Y” I smirk, answering his question.

He beams back at me, seeming almost like he’s not used to this.

“You know I’m thinking a drink at the bar might do us better than this lovely fresh air”

I cock my head to the side, watching him closely. I don’t know this man. Not well, anyway. This isn’t the type of networking I was planning on doing. But when was the last time I did something for me? Michael does. Michael puts his needs first every day. And the longer I look at this man, the longer I realise how absolutely stunning he is. And yeah, maybe I want to have a goddamn drink with him. I stand up from my chair and he quickly follows my lead with a grin. Without a word, he extends his arm to me and I take it, defying every part of me that feels weird hiding any mans arm that isn’t Michael’s. I’m doing this for me.

What ensues is a half hour of drinking at the bar, where we learn more about each other. Every time he opens his mouth I’m taken aback by how funny, intelligent and sweet this man is. He meets every joke of mine with an even better one. His quick wit keeping up with mine like it’s nothing. He says the right thing. The nice thing. The funny thing. His laugh is divine, and I begin to notice his deeply set smile lines and subtle dimples. Everything about Charlie is new. Exciting. I’ve been so fixated, so used to Michael for so long that I find myself in awe of the man in front of me.

I almost forget we are even at an event until a voice booms into the air over a loud and screeching microphone. The voice asks us all to returns to our seats for dinner, before the event properly begins.

“What table are you at?”

“I’m not sure, actually” I reply as I quickly realise I’m not sure where the Shelby’s are seated. Suddenly I see Polly’s face appear in the crowd. She hasn’t spotted me yet, but I can tell she is looking for me. Shit. Panic sets in. I know Polly wouldn’t be mad at me for having drinks with another man. In fact I’m sure she’d encourage it. But I’m not ready. I’m not ready to have her see me with another man. Very quickly, I begin to feel horrible about this. Maybe I shouldn’t be getting drinks with another man. God what am I doing?

“You alright?” I hear Charlie ask and I look back at him nervously.

“Uh, yeah I, I just think I need to-“ my sentence is interrupted by panic as Polly is getting closer and closer.

“It’s alright, you should get back” He reassures me. I look up at him with furrowed brows and nods in understanding, but his smile looks sad. God I feel terrible. But I can’t stay.

“I’m sorry” I apologise in a rush as I hurry away from him, desperate to get back to the table without being seen by Polly.

To my relief, I manage to stalk my way around the crowd and avoid Polly. But once I feel like I breathe a sigh of relief, I’m smacked in the face with another wave of panic. Now I have to sit with Gina and Michael at dinner. I hurry up to our table once I spot it, and slide into my seat so quickly only Tommy notices me sit down. Noticing I’m out of breath he furrows his brows at me.

“Did you run here or something?” he laughs nudging me playfully with his shoulder. I scoff. I practically did, yeah.

“Oh, there you are!” Polly’s voice exclaims suddenly, drawing attention to me. Gina and Michael’s heads both shoot over my way, and it doesn’t take long to get served a disgusted look from Gina. But right now Gina and her bitch face is on the bottom of my worry list. I’m just relieved that I made it back to the table without Polly seeing me with Charlie. Oh god. I cringe remembering how I left him in the lurch at the bar. I all but ran away from the guy while he was half way through a sentence.

Suddenly waiters start appearing from the kitchen doors, serving the dinner to all the guests. Desperate to have something to distract me, I busy myself with the food and try to centre myself again. I let the chatter of the party fall into the background as I zone out, my mind travelling back to Charlie. I made a complete fool of myself. He was perfectly nice. More than nice. He was completely charming. Why did I just run away from him like that. At one point, I happen to catch eyes with Michael, who seems to already be looking at me. His eyes dart away from me quickly trying to pretend like I didn’t catch him looking. But I don’t even bother entertaining him for that right now. This awkward staring game he is playing is getting very old, very fast.

Does he expect me to read his goddamn mind?

Before I know it, dinner is over, and the afternoons festivities begin. The host drones on for many long, painful minutes, most of the time bragging about their generosity towards the charities here tonight. I try not to laugh. Doesn’t the boasting kind of defeat the purpose of the philanthropy? As he finally wraps up his self centred speech I assumed that might all just go back to mingling and forcing small talk with all these strangers, but no. As the band begins to play music once more, the host announces that the ball room floor has opened.

Gina exclaims excitedly at Michael as couples all over the room begin to stand and make their way to the dance floor in the middle of the room.

You’ve got to be kidding me. I look up at the ceiling and to the heavens above. Someone up there really has it out for me.

I watch as Michael forces a smile at Gina as she tugs on his coat, begging him to dance.

“Dance with me baby?” She pouts, sounding like a whining child. I bite the inside of my lip, trying not to scoff out loud. Michael hates being called baby. When we were together, he used to love the way I called him ‘my love’. He had insisted that he could never imagine being called by any other name. Joking that he would change his name legally so I couldn’t call him anything but ‘my love’.

Reluctantly, he places his napkin on the table and helps Gina up out of her chair.

“Excuse us, I have to dance with my husband” she says to the table as she hangs of Michael’s arm, but I know she’s directing that comment directly at me. Everyone nods, excusing them from the table. I try to wipe the look of hurt, jealousy and anger of my face as I watch them join the rest of the dancing couples.

“Thought you might need this” Arthur’s voice says in my ear as he sits down next to me, sliding a glass of wine in my direction.

“What would make you think that?” I reply sarcastically, but give him a grateful smile. For the next few songs I watch them pensively over the top of the rim of my glass. Gina is beaming up at Michael. Clutching onto him possessively every time another woman gets to close. Michael doesn’t look totally miserable either. He even looks like he’s enjoying himself for a few fleeting moments. Of course he is. He’s married. His wife is beautiful. She adores him. What more could he want, right?

After the 3rd song finishes they leave the dance floor and begin to return to the table. I force my eyes down to the ground, to make out like I haven’t just been staring at them for the past 15 minutes.

They only just reach the table, taking their seats, when a males voice says my name from beside us.

In shock at hearing my name, I look up in its direction. My eyes meet with a pair of familiar blue eyes and a gentle smile.

Charlie.

“Would you like to dance with me?” He proposes, extending his arm to me. When he see’s my hesitance he gives me a deep, knowing look. Like he’s been watching this all unfold and he has come to whisk me away. To save me. I should feel embarrassed. Awkward. Another man offering to dance with me when Michael is right there should feel weird. But instead I just feel… butterflies. The good kind. I want to let myself do this. Why not. I don’t have anyone to be loyal to. I have been loyal to Michael since day one. He hasn’t returned that. I don’t owe him a goddamn thing.

Without a word I take his hand, rising from my seat. His face lights up, and he gives me a smile that looks… proud. He squeezes my hand once, before linking my arm with his.

“Thank you” he nods at the Shelby’s respectfully with a small bow “I’ll have her back soon”

I glance over at all their faces as we walk away. Tommy and Arthur watch on like protective brothers, and Polly has a proud smile on her face. She loves her son, but I know she’s thinking how much he deserves to have this rubbed in his face. Speaking of Michael, the look on his face is priceless. He looks hot and angry, his face distorted and twisted half between fury and… hurt.

But I don’t have much time to look at Michael, not while Charlie is leading me through the dance floor until we find a clear spot to stand. He smirks as we face each other. He places one large, slender hand on my waist while the other interlocks with mine. I take a deep breath to steady myself. Another mans touch is so unfamiliar to me. He watches me carefully, reading me like a book. Sensing my nerves, he very slowly and gently pulls me closer to him. Not to fast. But not to slow. How the hell does he know how to do the right thing every time?

Feeling how calm and steady he is has the same effect on me, and I feel my rushing mind and racing heart begin to slow.

“Hi again” he coos softly, smiling down at me.

“Hi” I reply, unable to help the grin that is growing wider and wider on my own face. I follow his lead as we begin to sway along to the slow jazz music that is playing in the background. I frown slightly, still feeling guilty about leaving him.

“I’m so sorry about before” I apologise looking up at him sheepishly.

“Don’t be” He shakes his head, dismissing my concern “Just don’t run off from me while we’re in the middle of the dance floor yea, might not recover from that one” he teases. We both chuckle.

“I’m not going anywhere” I assure him

“That’s fine by me” he bites his lip as we find ourselves getting even closer to one another until we’re pressed right up against one another. As we share a moment just gazing at one another, I can’t help but wonder he came just at the right time. Who the hell sent this man?

Suddenly turns us around in a circle, holding me tight as we spin. Catching me off guard, he lowers me down into a dip. His strong hand supports my back, and my head falls back as I laugh gleefully. When he brings me back up, our faces are so close that our noses are touching. I half expect him to kiss me, to take advantage of this moment. But he doesn’t. He remains a perfect gentleman. I’m completely caught up in him, caught up in our own little bubble when it is burst by the sight of Michael over Charlie’s shoulder.

He is standing with the Shelby’s and Gina, as they’re mingling and chatting with another family. But he’s not paying attention to them. He is glaring at Charlie and I over the top of his drink. He throws it back angrily, before all but slamming it down on the table. I can see his chest rising and falling heavily from here. Michael isn’t even trying to hide his jealously. I can’t believe the audacity of Michael. It’s almost laughable.

“You good?” Charlie asks with concern, noticing that I’m distracted. He also notices Michael as he looks between us. I think for a moment, and funnily enough, I am good. I’m good. Right now, with Charlie, I feel untouchable.

“I’m wonderful” I nod and he smiles with relief.

“Yeah,” he breathes “You are”

As the next song picks up in pace, he dances me around the floor. He spins me, twirling me around, but catches me again every time. We laugh with each other, enjoying getting completely wrapped up in the moment. I completely forget about Michael. In fact, I completely forget anyone else is even in the room until the final song comes to an end.

We linger for a moment, still enamoured with each other while most people begin to leave the dance floor. I feel almost high of the chemistry between us. The host announces that the final song also marks the ending of the evening. He is the first to break our bubble as he begins to let go of me slowly, his hand lingering on my waist before he finally lets go.

“Alright, I think I’ve stolen you for long enough” he chuckles, breaking the tension between us “You can run now if you like”

“I might be to out of breath for that” I retort with a laugh “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

“I was just saving my best moves for you”

“Thank you, for…” I begin, but I can’t finish my sentence. Thank you for the dance, yes. But how do I thank him for saving my from a night of torture at the table with Michael and Gina.

“Trust me, the pleasure has been all mine”

“I haven’t had that much fun in a long time”

“Well that makes two of us”

Theres a long, long moment between us. I may not have done this in a while but I still know what happens next. That’s when my nerves begin to return slowly but surely. Can I do this? He is wonderful. Everything about him is wonderful. And the chemistry is palpable. But am I ready for this?

Sensing that I’m uncomfortable, he bows slightly. “I’ll let you get back. It’s been lovely meeting you, Isabelle” he smiles down at me.

I watch as he turns, almost about to walk away when something comes over me. I quickly reach for his coat pulling him back to me.

“Wait,” I say desperately as he steps closer to me “Come home with me”

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS 

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

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[enderbird]

Anniversary Special

Summary:  The 65th Anniversary Special for the Warner Siblings happens. Yakko learns some things that, in the end, don't matter.

Words: 1808

Warnings: talk of the canonical neglect of the warners : i am staring at the water tower :, mention of attempted murder? that is. kinda it. 

Notes: I watched the 65th Anniversary Special of the original Animaniacs yesterday. I had some feelings and shoved them on through Yakko tgyhu  They’re probably OOC as I have never written the Warners before. I threw in the beginning of the story from Wakko’s Wish in here because I thought it’d be cute. and I also have no idea when they actually started working on the movie. we out here.

AO3

This wasn’t beta-ed... or like. yeah. It’s probably got a few mistakes in it because I did start this at 1am today. but yeah.

He shouldn't have been surprised as he was, not that it was clear he was surprised about anything. Yakko was drawn an actor and, even though he can't die, he likes to say he'll die one too. It's just... everyone knew they were in the water tower. Everybody. Other toons, the staff, the big man upstairs too.. probably. Everyone except the public seemed to know they were locked up in a water tower for sixty years of their toony lives. 

 He can't express his anger, of course, it's their 65th Anniversary Special! He should be celebrating sixty-five years of wonderful time with everyone, not wishing he hadn't spent most of them locked away with his siblings. 

 Yet here he is. About to explode he's so upset. 

 Yakko always thought maybe the other toons were working on trying to free them and such other things. They were fellow toons! Trapping children in a space with nothing but their half-formed hammerspaces and imaginations in a fucking water tower isn't how toons should be treated. He'd hoped someone, maybe Bugs, the very face of the company, had tried to get them free or something, you know? But no.

 In the end, it seemed  everyone  at Warner Bros was happy to have been rid of them for sixty glorious, glorious years. Not a full sixty, though, they still got to be free one day every few years so the tower could be checked for termites and whatever. He never bothered to listen to what they were let out for because it honestly never mattered. For one day, even if it be only every few years, he got to be somewhere else. 

 That was something they all had always looked forward to. Running around in search of new things. Everything was always changing and it was so hard to keep track of it all when you only get to see snippets of it every few years. But it was okay! Even if they always got caught at the end of the day after the company was done doing god knows what, they still at least got to see something new. Something exciting.

 Yakko grabbed his siblings' hands in an attempt to pull himself away from his thoughts as if they wouldn't just return later in the night when they got back home. Back to the tower.. back in his ball pit. For now, though? He might as well enjoy what was left of the show, as much as his revelation hurt him. He really did hold onto the hope the other toons would try and free them. 

 Honestly, when they were first locked away, he'd thought it was a joke. He sat there for almost two months just waiting for the punchline to kick off. He'd only actually thought that because everyone just seemed so excited and happy when they were put in the tower.. he wanted to hold onto that, not that he was able to for long.

  When he'd looked back up at the screen he saw Daffy, talking about their original nonsensical cartoon. The one about the flypaper or whatever it was. Complaining about how it went on for eight hours. This was kinda rude to show at an event that was supposed to celebrate them, right? It felt rude at least. Whatever. 

 He just squeezed his siblings' hands and ignored the show, seeing as nothing good had come from actually watching it so far.

 --------------------

 Hours later, he couldn't sleep. The night had gotten better after they got back home. After Buddy tried to kill them out of jealousy for his old, ruined reputation, and after he'd found that no one cares about them stuck in the tower. You'd think Yakko would be a little more shaken up about the dying thing, but no. 

 It seems he was the only one not able to sleep so far, as he could hear Dot moving around in her sleep above him, and Wakko making noises in their sleep on the top bunk. He'd probably wake them up so they could all sleep together if that didn't just make him feel a little iffier. He was the oldest, right? The oldest doesn't need to ask his younger siblings if they could all sleep together because he couldn't just sleep alone. That's stupid.

 He just gave up and got up. Wakko would probably be up soon, as the middle child always got up for something at some point in the night. Dot would follow after Wakko accidentally wakes her up, etc etc. Yakko probably knew his siblings better than anything, more than any song he's had to memorize the lyrics for or the very backs of his paws. 

 He placed any balls that had fallen out when he got up back in his ball pit bed, rubbing his eyes and wandering off in the dark towards their little kitchen. He might as well wait there... it's where everyone ended up at some point in the night. 

 --------------------

 A few hours later, give or take, Yakko heard the unmistakable sound of Wakko climbing down the bunk bed ladder and making their way around the water tower. They sometimes sleep-ate or talked.. or walked.. so if that ended up being the case tonight then he'd wake up Wakko, but only then. 

 He'd pulled a light out of hammerspace to read with, but ended up messing around with and breaking it. How he broke the light didn't exactly matter as he saw, heard more than anything, his sibling finally stumble into the kitchen. 

 What really sucked about the dark was, even if they were supposed to be animals and such, they had terrible night vision. It didn't help with gags, and they weren't any specific animal, so they didn't have the luxury of most other toons when it came to the dark. That was what really got him about being stuck in the dark for so long. 

 He squinted at the other toon from his spot at the kitchen table, only to find he was being squinted at back. 

 "What're you doin' up?" Was the only thing he found Wakko saying, who now standing in the doorway and waiting for an answer.

 Now obviously he can't just answer with "Oh I was thinking about all our time stuck in here with no clear way of being able to ever leave" because that's upsetting. This was one of the last people he could ever find himself trying to upset, not that'd he'd want to go and just do that anyway. It's against his very purpose as a toon, isn't it? 

 "Just couldn't sleep. Thought I'd come in here and run into you sooner or later, you know? Did you wake up Dottie?"

 Both brothers knew never to call their sister Dottie, it was Dot or Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the Third, and she made sure it stayed that way.. but it didn't seem she'd wake up yet tonight. Maybe later. It should, at least, be safe to joke about until then. 

 Wakko seemed to accept that answer as they continued their journey to the fridge, blinding a very tired Yakko when they opened it. They pulled out a giant cake from god knows where before going over to sitting across from their brother.

 "I didn't hear her getting up this time. Just her normal movin' around. Did you wanna talk to her or somethin'?" Is what Yakko finally got in response, but only after Wakko had taken a huge bite out of the cake.. as well at their plate. 

He just shook his head, laying it down on his arms. "Thought maybe we could spend the day after our 65th Anniversary Special doing something together. Only if you guys want to, of course."

 It took longer to get a response, as Wakko had just swallowed the cake and plate whole, which wasn't anything new. "Maybe you could tell Dot the story from that script we got a few days ago. She'd like getting to practice.." 

 "I'd like to get to tell you both the story, even if it's mostly about Dot. You're not there for it in the movie, are you?"

 Wakko just shook their head, laying it on their arms as their brother had done a bit before.

 "Well, that just can't do. How about.. we all sleep in my ball pit tonight. You could go grab Dot after you're finished snacking, and I'll see about finding those scripts to look back over, yeah?" 

 Wakko nodding along, seeming pretty happy with the idea before running off to get their sister. 

 While Wakko did that and about got their fingers bitten off for it, Yakko just continued to sit there, looking happier than he had earlier. Not that anyone could see his face. Wakko probably knew he didn't have to look over his lines but agreed so he could be alone a little longer, or maybe they were just that tired. He didn't care which.

 Yakko probably needed Wakko and Dot more than they needed him. He was okay with that, but it's not something he'd tell them. All that mattered right now was getting to his siblings before Dot or Wakko got impatient and came looking for him, which he was completely fine with doing. 

 He stepped into the little spot they'd sectioned off from the rest of the water tower and called a room before clearing his throat, which he mostly did just to let them know he'd finally gotten back. 

 "Dot, if you didn't murder Wakko over your 'cutie sleep', I'm gonna go ahead and say sorry for waking you up. If Wakko did perish by your hand I'm taking it back." 

 That was mostly a joke. They'd never kill over sleep, not usually at least. Dot did just get annoyed if woken up for almost any reason. 

 He slid into the ball pit he, for some reason unknown to him, called a bed. The last time they were out he found some kind of time-traveling dohickey Brain had made for one of his failed schemes and decided to go and mess around for a bit. See what the future was like. Just found some ball pit laying in the middle of some convention hall.

 He can't remember what it was called now (Mashcon? Stashcon? Dashcon??) and it didn't matter. What mattered now is he could feel both of his siblings with him that he needed to start on a story for. 

 "Alright, you two. Here we go," he cleared his throat again, with no real need to... again. "Once upon a time, a brave knight married a beautiful princess-" 

 Yeah. This would turn out okay, even if he wasn't too happy with the other toons right now. He'd always be just fine with these two. That's all that was important.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

PORNSTAR!HARRY WITH THE NEW BEARD (me? wet)

“What d’you think, then?”

Harry scratches absentmindedly at the thick stubble covering the lower half of his face, the coarse, light brown hairs heavily dusting his upper lip and haloing around his mouth and chin.

His eyebrows perk up at Y/N expectantly, awaiting her response as he sits across from her in the break room, laid out on the sofa with his head mounted against the elbowrest. His arms tighten around the maroon velvet cushion he’s hugging to his chest, a certain anxiousness jittering in his veins. He doesn’t know why her opinion matters to him or why the suspense is tearing his stomach to shreds, but it does and he can’t stop it and it’s fucking annoying, to say the least.

In his line of work, Harry had learned not to make severe emotional attachments to his partners. A platonic relationship is fine— he tended to naturally attract people without much effort and he thrives in social settings; friendships were bound to form— and a casual “friends with benefits” type of arrangement isn’t off the table, either. However, the industry had hardened him into being the kind of person who doesn’t care what others think of him. He never put much thought into people’s mundane concerns towards him (like whether his new beard was attractive or not) unless he had started to develop deeper connections, which then leads to him harvesting feelings, which in turn causes him to act like a complete lovesick moron and usually topples him into an actual solid dating situation. And if there’s anything Harry has painstakingly learned through multiple trials and errors is that being an adult entertainer while simultaneously engaging in a serious relationship never mixes well.

Yet here he is, waiting for their assigned filming room to be ready so they can go in and shoot a scene for a new video. Here he is, playing with a loose seam thread on the couch pillow, tugging at it nervously to give himself something to focus on other than the silence suffocating the room— a silence he himself had instilled by asking such a random, pointed question. Here he is, with sparks firing off in the pit of his tummy as the leg hanging off the side of the sofa bounces restlessly on his heel, toes curling in his pastel yellow Vans. He hasn’t felt this like this in so long he thinks he might vomit right onto the coffee table.

Y/N is extended across the loveseat opposite his, her legs draped over the armrest, knees bent and feet swaying back and forth distractedly. Her hands are cradled against her stomach, fingers sifted together as she taps at her knuckles, head snuggled into a throw pillow identical to his.

She had snapped her head to the side at his sudden question, surprised by the low thrum of his voice reaching across the still air since she thought he had fallen into a nap.

She’d run into him earlier as he had hurried inside the building, Nike gym bag slung over his shoulder and thudding against his hip as he made a beeline for his dressing room, itching for a shower. She figured that after exerting himself with a heavy workout and washing away the tension in his muscles with warm water, he’d probably want to get some sleep in before their shoot in order he to be at the top of his game. But evidently, Harry is wide awake, staring at her over the glass table between their makeshift beds, eyebrows raised in curiosity at her thoughts on the facial hair he’s sporting.

Y/N stares at him thoughtfully for a few seconds, eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in this never before seen appearance.

She’d been working for this company for just over two months now and she had never seen Harry with more than just a light bit of stubble. One can imagine her shock when he had waltzed in with a decently thick bushel covering half his face. She almost didn’t recognize him, being so used to his clean, boyish face rather than a hairy, full-fledged man. She hadn’t quite processed the change since their fleeting interaction prior to his bath, but apparently her take on it interested him and for some unknown reason, that notion makes her cheeks sizzle.

The response she blurts out makes her wish she could implode on command.

“You kinda look like Paul Bunyan.”

Harry blinks at her blankly exactly three times, shifting upwards higher against the armrest and cocking his head to the side in awed confusion. “Pardon?”

Y/N parts her lips to speak but her brain can’t seem to find a way to justify the idiotic, nerve-induced comment she’d just made. After a moment of charged silence, she splutters out a semi-acceptable explanation.

“Y’know, Paul Bunyan. The lumberjack guy? With the blue ox?”

Harry continues to stare at her, emerald irises twinkling with a mystified haze and eyebrows scrunched down in bewilderment.

She swallows quickly, feeling heat crawl up the sides of her neck. “He’s this folklore legend that they use to tell us about back in grade school. Disney even made a cute little short film about him.”

He blinks at her again, not sure how to react to her response since he has no fucking clue what she’s going on about. All he knows is that he wants to calm the ragging in his belly and possibly ebb some type of compliment out of her to tide over the craving for her approval.

He takes a wild stab and hopes for the best.

“So he’s a lumberjack, yeah? That must mean he was ripped. Was he hot?”

Y/N bursts into a round of easy laughter, feeling all the tension wash out of her in a huge wave of relief. Leave it to Harry to be a total dolt at the perfect time.

“Yeah, he was, actually. I used to have a crush on him, despite the fact that he was a literal cartoon.”

Harry’s lips break into a cheeky, satisfied grin, his dimples pinching into place. He sits forward, dropping the couch cushion into his lap and leaning back onto the palms of his hands, head lulling on his shoulder as one of his knees bends upwards to rest his heel at the edge of the sofa. He gives his brows a cocky shrug, well aware of how her gaze momentarily flickers to ogle at his widely parted thighs. He’d made the right call to wear his Adidas joggers, the thin polyester material obviously strained by what resides between his legs.

“Guess that means you have a crush on me now, too. By association.”

Y/N’s glazed eyes dart back up to his face and she tries to cover up her little escapade by snorting humorously, shaking her head lightly in amusement. “He was a bit taller than you, though. Makes him sexier.”

His voice comes out slathered with fake pained insult. “That’s no fair, I can’t even control that! How tall was he? Bet I could take him.”

She bites into her lower lip, a small playful grin peeking around her teeth at the ensuing banter. “Well, according to the myth, he’s seven feet tall.”

Harry scoffs dismissively, swinging an arm forward and settling his wrist over his bent knee, hand turning palm upwards for emphasis. “I can take him, no problem. A foot is nothing.”

Y/N props her chin onto her shoulder, maintaining her comfortable position stretched out across the couch, her back supported by the armrest. She sucks at her teeth in disagreement, pursing her lips with exaggerated contemplation. “I dunno, H. A foot is more than you think. What are you gonna do, jump on his back?”

He points at her warningly with his index finger, tone adamant. “I just fucking might!”

She releases another fit of bubbly giggles, cupping her tummy instinctively and for some reason that simple, unintentionally adorable action makes Harry’s pulse flutter in his temples.

He remains quiet for a bundle of heartbeats, just admiring the way her entire face glows when she smiles. He loves how bright she is— how lively and tender and easy-going. Her personality always shines through, no matter the instance. Whether it’s at a restaurant with their friend group, or at a get together at someone’s house, or when they’re sitting in the break room having a random, silly chat, or when he's balls-deep inside her with cameras trained on their every movement and there’s people watching every brush of their swollen lips, every caress of their heated skin, and every desperate plead whimpered onto eager tongues — no matter the tone and texture of the situation, she’s always the most blinding factor in the room. She’s just so golden.

“So you really think I can’t take this Bunyan bloke?” Harry inquires with a joking edge, his two front teeth chewing at the corner of his mouth to keep himself from grinning like an enamored fool.

“He’s a pretty big guy.” Y/N quips matter-of-factly, giving her shoulders a gentle shrug.

The edges of his lips twitch into a sly smirk. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty big, too...and you can attest to that.”

Even from across the room, he can see the way her whole body tightens at his lascivious dig. Her fingers halt the tapping on her knuckles and her eyes can’t seem to break free from his coy gaze, air struggling to expand her lungs.

Harry somehow always manages to make her speechless and she wishes he didn’t have that hold over her. They’re friends and coworkers; this influence on her could end in a real mess if she isn’t careful and the gig she has here at the company is too good to risk it. The porn industry is littered with producers that exploit their workers and women are more susceptible to this abuse than men, but somehow amidst the pile of shitty businesses, she had managed to book a permanent spot at a facility that treats their workers with the respect and dignity they deserve. Harry had been working here way longer than she had— he’d been here before she even knew the company existed. If things went downhill, she would have to be the one to leave.

Technicalities aside, Y/N’s worst fear is ruining her relationship with Harry. He had been the person that had comfortably eased her into the whole world of sexual entertainment and she would forever be thankful to him for making her experience smooth and seamless. They’d developed a decent friendship along the way, their personalities clicking together perfectly from the second they had been introduced, their chemistry practically palpable. Harry had been her partner in almost all of her videos— save a handful she had done with other stars as a way of testing the waters and branching out— and had introduced her to all of the friends she had made here. He’d shot with her for her first ever video in this profession and helped welcome her into something she had been extremely terrified to try. She cherishes him beyond words, which is why the idea of allowing some harmless flirting to grow into something with the potential to end in disaster outright ices her blood.

What she hates the most is that such a simple cocky comment had sent her into a midlife crisis.

She anchors herself back into reality, clearing her throat softly as her lashes flutter. “You’re a moron.”

Harry cracks a self-assured simper, messing with the chunky rings of the hand hanging off his knee. “You’re not denying it, though.”

Y/N huffs offhandedly, finally breaking the intense eye contact he’d pinned onto her, glossy eyes zoning in on tracing the checkered pattern of her worn sneakers. “Your dick is obviously big or else you wouldn’t have a job here.”

The deadpan bluntness behind her tone sends Harry into a round of boyish snickering. “I know, but I just love hearing you say it. Strokes my ego like nothing else.”

Y/N picks at one of the tears of her cosmetically tattered jeans, a strangely contented smile threatening to string across her lips at the idea of him enjoying the way she specifically praises him. “And we both know how much you love having things stroked, now don’t we?”

Harry bites into the inside of his cheek, humming in agreement deep in the back of his throat. He absolutely adores the way she can go toe to toe with his vulgarity. “Touché. Although, if I recall correctly, you never seem to have any complaints about being the one doing it.”

“S’part of the job.”

“I’m pretty sure your kitchen isn’t one of the designated filming rooms.”

“Practice makes perfect.”  

Y/N’s jaw clenches as she feels Harry’s delighted condescending stare boring into the side of her face. He swings his arms out from behind him, slumping into the backrest of the couch, flexing forearms settling across the light blue fabric of the vintage Mickey Mouse t-shirt stretching over his broad chest. The foot resting on the ground braces itself onto the edge of the coffee table, the one on the couch shifting some, his thighs parting open even wider. She has to resist the urge to look, having to make due with the blurry image registering from her peripheral vision. Even out of focus, he looks incredible.

“D’you know what we’re shooting today?”

The change in topic gifts her the chance to recuperate and regroup; work talk is a sanctuary she is more than happy to inhabit.

Y/N cranes her neck to look over at Harry, refusing the impulse to check him out in his new, much more revealing position, meeting his eyes with an indifferent attitude that hides how buzzed he truly has her. “It’s something for a series you’re doing on your channel, right?”

Harry bobs his head in an easy nod, thumbing over the inside of his right elbow— a mindless mannerism. His lips twitch into a goofy grin. “Wanna know what I named it?”

“Something dumb, probably.”

“How Many Licks Does It Take To Make a Cherry Pop?”

Y/N sighs heavily through her nose. “Expected no less. It’s a bit long, though, don’t you think?”

“Maybe a little but the Wow Factor outsells.”

“Whatever you say.” Y/N checks the time on her phone, slipping it back into her rear jean pocket. They’d been sitting here waiting for their call for almost fifteen minutes now. “So from the looks of it, it’s mainly based around eating girls out?”

Harry scratches at the back of his neck casually, playing with the ringlets that curl along the nape of his neck. “Mmhm. Just thirty minutes of me making you cum as many times as I can with my tongue.”

The shells of Y/N’s ears burn. “Sounds like a dream. I’m getting paid just to lay there and I won’t even have to take off all my clothes.”

“Good karma, I suppose.” Harry glances impatiently towards the door of the break room, eager to get started. He doesn’t really know why, but he’s just gained an abrupt hunger to be nose deep between her thighs right this second. “Although, do you think you can pull your shirt up? Y’know how much I love a good view and you just look so fucking good in lace.”

She kinks an eyebrow up in mild shock at his accurate statement, pushing down the way his admiration makes her pulse skip a beat. “How did you know I was wearing lace?”

His tongue sweeps over the front of his teeth teasingly, Cupid’s Bow curving with a hint of perceptive glee. “Because you know it makes my balls ache.”

Y/N’s thighs unintentionally clasp together at his crudeness and she decides to put his insight to the test. “What color am I wearing, then?”

Harry sits forward, interest elating his limbs, forearms flushing against his thighs as he twiddles his thumbs between his separated knees. He takes a second to think it through, tilting his chin up slightly with a confident air. “Pastel peach.”

Her hands slap down against her tummy, the action tainted with disbelieving outrage. “How’d you know?!”

He chews on his bottom lip pensively as if carefully sewing his words together. “Because I complimented you the last time you wore it.”

A rush of white hot energy surges through Y/N’s entire nervous system. “Didn’t think you’d remember since you always compliment everyone.”

Harry shakes his head gently, twisting a metal rose ring around his middle finger. “Always remember you.”

An electrified silence falls between them, zizzing every molecule in the chilled air.

Y/N is well aware of the large number of people Harry’s been with and she had always assumed she would melt into the masses without much of a second thought. But here he was, telling her that she stood out to him enough that he could vividly recall the little odds and ends of flattery he gave her. It probably wasn’t much of anything and he was just being his polite, courteous self, but it made her stomach somersault nonetheless.

Her lips part open as if to speak, but her vocal chords can’t seem to find the pitch of her voice. She just lays there with her mouth agape for a second or so, fishing for a response that her brain has yet to conjure. Harry waits in anticipation, wanting to know her thoughts on small but meaningful confession.

Y/N is saved by a collection of swift hard knocks to the door of the room.

The knob turns and the door cracks open, a familiar face peeking in, bare chest covered in a sheen of short, disheveled hair and a complimentary company robe. Niall— a mutual friend and fellow entertainer— throws up a relaxed wave, icy blue eyes lighting up with the effortless jolliness he’s so well known for.

His voice filters through the heavy atmosphere, his thick Irish accent cutting the tension like a knife. “Oi, Jeff told me to come get you. Room’s set up.”

Harry licks over his lips absently, keeping his muted olive irises glued to Y/N for an extra heartbeat before breaking away, forcing an easy smile for Niall’s sake and matching it with banter. “Couldn’t come get us himself? Lazy prick.”

The sky-eyed young man shrugs his shoulders sloppily, his exorbitant laughter bouncing off the walls. “Was headed for my dressing room to clean up and you guys happened to be a pit stop on the way so it wasn’t much trouble.”

Harry pushes himself onto his feet, stretching out his back and twisting his torso from side to side. “S’about time, too. Been sitting here so long I thought my bones were gonna cement.”

Niall whistles sympathetically. “That’d be real shit for business.”  

The British boy sputters into his next sentence with a flurry of giggles. “Fuck off.”

Y/N speaks up for the first time since before Niall burst in. “Jeff would basically lose all his income. Can you imagine the headlines? ‘World renowned adult entertainer Harry Styles hospitalized, leaving mother company in shambles!’”

“A right Shakespearean tragedy, that is.” Their blonde friend cackles, the suspicious bite marks on his lower lip tinting darker as his skin stretches.

“Lucky for me, I already have experience with Shakespearean tragedies.” Harry quips proudly, walking towards the exit and standing beside Niall with his arms crossed over his stomach nonchalantly.

The fellow pornstar scowls jestingly, reaching forward and tugging at the corner of Harry’s mustache. “Romeo and Juliets: The Four-Crossed Lovers doesn’t count, Obi-Wan.”

“Whatever.” Harry snaps in return, slapping Niall’s fingers out of his facial hair and smothering him with the palm of his hand, shoving the boy out the door. “Go clean the jizz off yourself.”

“Go clean the jizz off yourself.” The shorter man mimics mockingly, backing away from the door with both of his middle fingers prevalent.

Once Niall’s gone, Harry glimpses back at Y/N over his shoulder, coughing awkwardly. “So I guess I’ll see you in there, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She gives him a timid, watery smile, barely nodding her head.

“Alright. Show time, Peach Lace.”

The joking nickname eases the pressure of the situation to a bearable level. She repeats his phrase in agreement, shrugging her brows as cool and collected as her churning tummy will allow. “Show time.”

Harry’s messy quiff of curls disappears down the corridor that leads to their designated room and Y/N can properly gulp down air for the first time since he asked her what she thought about his beard.

It’s then that she realizes she never really answered his question directly, but she gets the feeling that he knows where her opinion lies.

[greytoiletpaper]

Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the same-ish street-siblings universe as First Contact by @cryptids-and-muses and @a-sketchy-character @streetsiblings (they’re still awesome). I present to you... Angst.

Drizzle | AO3 

Chapter 2: Deluge

Felipe Garzonas falls.

Jason cannot find it in himself to care. The man was human garbage at best-

A shriek of anguish rents the air, a woman's, while the stalking man pounces on her and bays with his manic glee.

-and they were just going to let him go? No dice. Jason did not push him off the edge, but it’s still satisfying enough for him to know the man is gone now.

It is here, on this rooftop, that Jason understands that the horrors of the world can never be contained, only controlled. In what ways, he isn’t sure yet, but when he thinks of killing, all he can imagine is a figure adorned in a red helmet, ruthless and proud.

When Bruce takes Jason away from the scene, long crimson snakes flow off Garzonas’ body with the deluge, painting the face of Gotham.

Cass believes Jay when he says he didn’t kill Garzonas. He can lie like the best of them, but he can never hide anything from her. Bruce still doesn’t believe him even when she says as much.

“You’re a danger to yourself and the people around you,” Bruce is saying. Cold is the only way that Cass can describe his body.

For as long as she has been with Bruce, Cass has not thought of David. But looking at him now, a small, insidious part of the man that projects the urge to control (something she had only seen from David) starts to slip through. She is so thrown about what to think that she almost misses him firing Jay as Robin.

“No.”

“But Cass-.”

“No.”

Jason resists the urge to groan at his sister. Above them, the three names of his potential mothers are displayed clearly and brightly.

“I get why you don’t want me to. But think of what will happen if we manage to bring one! We could- we could-.”

“My brother,” Cass says, with finality. She gestures to the names (although ‘Sandra Wu-san’ in particular catches both their eyes). “Not theirs.”

Cass makes that stance she always does when she wants him to stop, her back hunched and her eyes pleading. He hates it when she does that, which is why he bites back a sigh.

“Fine. I’ll leave it alone,” Cass has been trying harder to get her smile right. Her effort shows when she gives him a mega-watt grin when he relents.

“My family, love,” She says as she hugs him before leading him away to raid the freezer for Neapolitan.

Later that night, Jason leaves his copy of Huckleberry Finn on her nightstand. He has to make sure that she doesn't think he'd left her behind when he goes. As Jason leaves the window wide open, his sole companion is the rain for the first time in years.

Gotham feels it as it happens. As the madman clubs her boy over and over with his crowbar. She feels every bruise, every bone that fractures, every act of pure, unadulterated cruelty inflicted on Jason.

Her eldest cradles the body, surrounded by a field of debris and smoke left in the wake of the monster that is the Joker. She washes the blood away with her tears.

When Cassandra wakes to see her brother’s prized possession on her nightstand, she instantly knows and never lets it go, even as the sky opens up in time with her tears.

--

As the casket lowers into the earth, she absently notes no rain, not a cloud in sight. Somehow, in the void that is the Jason-shaped hole in her heart, she realises he would have hated it.

“I think… I want to have my burial when it rains. Gives a whole ‘nother meaning to bleary doesn’t it?” Jason had confessed that once, a slight chuckle drawing from his chest. It fades as fast as it came. He looked away, then. “I don’t think I’d rest in peace without it.”

Cassandra fills the silence with the hymns of her tears – droplets staining the well-loved pages of the last piece of her brother – and hopes that it will be enough.

In her mind, her efforts are for naught when they devolve into wails as the first shovelfuls of dirt encase the ebony coffin.

--

The first thing she sees when she enters the cave is- is the atrocious thing. All the noise in the cave seems to phase out. The squeaking of the bats. The banter between Dick and Babs. The low murmurs of Bruce and Alfred in the corner. All she can focus on is the caricature of her brother in full view of everyone in the Batcave. She looks at it, and the world becomes a sea of pink and brown and white. The uniform he died in still bloody and ragged; all her thoughts a cacophony of wailing; iron on her tongue; roaring in her ears; she feels nothing in her but pain.

Jason Peter Todd

A Good Soldier

She hates it. Hates it with a passion because Jason was so much more than a soldier. He was her Jay, her brother, everything; all she has left of him is a small paperback and this disgusting mockery of his memory.

But he’s Batman, and he grabs her by the arms and pins her, even as her legs kick out viciously. She headbutts him and manages to push him off, nailing him square in the jaw with her knee as she flips back.

“Cassandra-.” Batman starts.

“Mine,” She snarls, eyes blazing and her hand pushing Bruce away from her. Even with the pads of his armour, she knows it hurts. She turns to leave.

“Not Robin. My Jay. My Brother. My Jason.”

Standing in Jason’s room, Cassandra closes the window he left open. She notices a picture frame on his nightstand. It’s of them, Huckleberry Finn spread between their legs and their foreheads pressed together.

Cass curls into a ball and clutches his treasures to her chest, sobbing because there is no rain to fill the vacuum she’s found herself in.

--

Far, far away, a man between worlds shatters the dimensions. The ripple disturbs Gotham, but she cannot deny her love of the results.

Gotham watches as her prodigal son begins his dramatic return; rising from below to walk above once again.

--

“So, is it really true that you took down Troia when you were only thirteen? All on your own?” The new Robin, Tim, is okay. Really. Cassandra just can’t look him at and see someone else in the uniform. When she doesn’t answer, the boy seems to fidget nervously. She doesn’t even know what his eyes look like.

“I–I guess, since I’m here to be Batman’s new Robin, I was hoping I could be the Robin to –.”

Cassandra doesn’t even let the boy finish before she leaves.

--

Jason wakes up drowning. It’s not water that enters his lungs, but an unnatural, sickly green liquid that vexes and rots and makes his body feel like he’s on fire. Nandra Parbat is where he is when he’s calmed down from being dipped into the Lazarus Pit, trapped in a fortress of assassins that want to mould a Bat into one of them. It’s an entirely different League.

This time, Cass is not here to keep them away.

--

When she meets Steph, Cassandra is enamoured because the girl smiles and laughs (except she still isn’t the same, no one is), almost just like Jason. But there are slight differences between the girl and her brother. Her hugs are great, but they don’t feel right. She smells like lavender instead of the rain. Despite how much the girl likes to joke with her, not one of them manages to draw out her smile.

Cassandra holds onto the girl like a lifeline anyway.

What bone she can throw, Steph has an uncanny knack of finding things that others take ages to locate, which is helpful enough for right now since Tim is still missing. It doesn’t help when Steph reads that Tim is in a warehouse with none other than The Joker.

--

He’s practising his aim when she comes in, almost plucking the gun out of his hand. Jason grips the girl’s arm and flings her over his back. Rose Wilson, a wolfish grin plastered on her face and snowy hair fanning under them, doesn’t even look fazed.

“Wow Jace, if you wanted to pin me you could have just asked,” His only friend in this place is what keeps him sane; when the Joker of his nightmares haunts the edges of his mind, she is there to let him know it isn’t real. Despite how different they are, she’s a breath of fresh air in this hellhole they’re in. He should probably tell her how he feels.

“You’re such a fucking chicken-shit,” Is what comes out of his mouth instead. Rose only smirks at him, silver mane and eyes with almost the same mischief his sister had.

“Your aim still sucks balls by the way.”

He growls, raising his arm to let his gun do the barking.

--

Ranting and raving greet her as she sneaks in through a window, a litany of nonsense and stammers echoing around the warehouse. She drops from the catwalk as silently as she can, but the madman obviously still hears her as his head bends at an impossible angle to look right at her.

“Oh. Look who showed for quality time with Uncle Jay!” She doesn’t mean to, but Cassandra flinches, and the Joker’s twisted grin shifts. Big mistake. “Oh? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” It takes every inch of willpower in her not to rasp the words, but Joker sees through it regardless.

“What? Don’t like my name?” The Joker pouts, but it looks more like a sneer. “It’s just me yaknow? Your Uncle Jay.”

Another flinch, and the Joker steps closer, a snake in the reeds.

“Mister Jay,” He’s stalking closer now; her body won’t move. “JayJay.”

“Jaybird,”

“Jay,” She is so still as the Joker seems to tower over her, his sick grin crueller and sharper (David flashes in her mind) than any other time she has ever seen it. Poison flows from his mouth like saliva as he croons.

“That’s what you called him, isn’t it? When he was still here, your precious Robin. Not this -,” He gestures to Tim, who is wide-eyed and struggling. “-phoney replacement. Want me to-? Let me tell-.” The Joker stops, frowning at the ground before continuing, his voice aberrantly low. “When I beat him over and over with that crowbar – pink with blood and brown with dirt over the white of his skin –, do you want to know what he was saying?

“The only thing that came out of that pretty little mouth of his was how sorry he was that he was for leaving ‘Cass’ behind.” The madman leers at her. “Was that you? Cass? I gotta tell you, the whole apology shtick got really boring after a while, but…

“I’ll tell you one thing. Something you can keep between just you and your Uncle Jay,” He leans in close to her ear. “I think that our Jay is almost just like me now!”

The madman cackles, his eyes sick and twisted, and his body is nothing but mania. Something in Cassandra, strained and twisted for the past three years, finally snaps.

She strikes him, harsher than she’s struck anyone ever before. So severely, she can feel his ribcage snap. His flesh becomes mince under her fists. He stumbles and contorts as she overwhelms him with every piece of her fury. The gale-force that is Cassandra Todd blows through the Joker, who laughs and laughs and laughs.

The monster scrambles for his gun, suddenly slick and focused. Cassandra snaps off the comic ‘Pow!’ that sticks out of the muzzle when he fires it at her. She backhands his face with the full force of her knuckles, knocking him down, and all he does is chortle. The Joker’s body twists and squirms as he is pinned in place. She raises the broken end of the comic and skewers his leg into the ground.

The Joker’s mouth froths. His eyes are bloodshot as he becomes more depraved and maunders yet, he’s still fucking laughing. Laughing as his spittle flecks onto every surface around them when he thrashes. Laughing even as she clenches the sides of his head and pulls. Laughing even as they both feel his flesh strain and shear as she tries to tear it off. The part of her that has so vehemently denied killing now cries for bloodlust. For this is justice, this is vengeance, this is for her, Jay. Cassandra, with all her might, prepares to wrench off the monster’s head and-.

And Batman pushes her off him. Batman blocks her assault on his body when Cassandra rebalances herself. Batman protects the god damn fucking Joker. She roars with her rage, her grief, and doesn’t even feel the sedative that Tim plunges into her side until it’s too late.

Glaring at Bruce, at Batman, all she sees from his body is fear and concern and all the latter is directed at the death-worshipping monster he cradles in his arms. Absently, before it all goes to black, she thinks she should leave. Leave without Batgirl, without Jason, without everything she has ever cared for.

She does, and like her brother, the tears of Gotham are the only family she has left.

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