#that was world war two but i thought it would be such a fitting job for mina

[cuntressgoingdigital]

needed a break from writing serious things, so here's more mma! abby x model! reader shenanigans - pt 1 if you care

cw: alcohol ment., minor nsfw

srry this is pushing 1k i got a lil too excited

☆ being one of the hottest celebrity couples, you get invited to the met gala. this is by no means your first time in attendance. not by a long shot. you were expecting the call from your agent about the guest list, but this time she tells you abby is invited to come along. abby is hesitant about the whole ordeal, but ultimately concedes after weeks of begging. 

what you (purposely) failed to mention is that there are a million and a half fittings that she had to suffer through before the day came. she was a fighter, not a model. she didn’t even take fashion seriously until you started dressing her. this was her personal hell. 

when the day finally came she was antsy sitting through the hours long hair and makeup process. if you hadn’t been there to take her mind off of everything, she definitely would’ve left in a huff. 

“how the fuck do you do this all the time?”

you shrugged. “i love hair and makeup! are you not having fun?”

“absolutely not.”

her attitude changed the moment you two stepped on the red carpet. abby was dressed in a deep cut off white suit jacket embellished with silver flower detailing along the sleeves and hem. the pants were made of white satin, matching the train that sat beneath her jacket. somehow, the hairstylist had tamed her long blonde hair into a slicked back bun with the hair atop her head falling in ringlet curls. this was one of her first times wearing makeup to an event, the both of you wearing marie antoinette inspired looks, dramatic eyes, heavy blush, and lipstick in the shape of a heart. 

you’d trained her on how to pose, when to pivot her head for different cameras, and how to answer interview questions. like a lost child, she didn’t let go of your hand the entire time. your matching emerald jewelry caught the camera flashes with every snap of the shutter. 

as you moved along the carpet you gave her reassuring whispers with every step. 

“you’re doing perfect. i love you so much.” 

she was trying so hard not to stare at you the whole time. she couldn’t give less of a fuck about everything going on around her, she was in constant awe of your beauty. you two had been strictly instructed not to kiss each other or touch your makeup in any way, but if you’d been allowed she would have in that moment. 

one of the interviewers approaches the both of you. you had seen her in years past, so you had already established a rapport. 

“abby, how does it feel to be at your very first met gala?”

she awkwardly chuckles. “you know, i never expected to be at an event like this. i’m just happy to be here with my beautiful girlfriend.” 

there were many screencaps of that interview of abby looking at you longingly. the pictures circulated with different variations of ‘how i look at my girl when she–’ captions.

that night, once the professional photos went live on social media, you reposted one of them on your story with the caption

she looks so good i should get her pregnant

☆ you’re invited to a couple’s interview with a popular media journalism group. you’re answering questions about each other to see if the answers match up and it starts to get unprecedentedly competitive. both of you are sore losers and contest each answer. 

“what do you mean you spend most of your free time reading?” you were absolutely not having it. “all you do is workout! we had to put a little chair in our gym so i can sit with you while you’re in there.”

abby huffs. “i don’t count that as free time. that’s my job.”

you wanted to argue back, but unfortunately she had a point. 

when the interviewer asked “who does more chores around the house?” god you would’ve thought she was trying to instigate world war three. for the next five minutes (all of which were cut out of the video) you went back and forth about who was right. the argument wasn’t out of malice, but neither of you wanted to be wrong. 

☆ in a recently posted photo from one of your friends while on vacation, fans point out that your middle and ring fingers are lacking the acrylic set on the rest of your fingers. 

one fan tweeted : oh so they’re GAY gay

you quote retweeted with: hell yeah we take this gay shit serious…some of us like to go acoustic every now and again

☆ the closest thing to a controversy you had gotten into was at a celebrity after party. you admittedly had gotten a little too drunk and a man referred to you as “that drunk bitch”. so of course you rip into him. abby is near the bar, but was able to filter out the music to hear your voice from across the room. she rushed to your side and asked what happened. you’re still screaming and incorrigible. once abby gathers the summation of the argument, she steps in between you and the man. everyone is expecting her to try and defuse the situation, but she joins in. 

“what the fuck did you call my girlfriend? are you fucking serious?” 

unbeknownst to either of you, the whole ordeal is being recorded. 

“dude, get the fuck away from her or i will embarrass you in front of everyone.”

the man seemingly catches the hint. no sane person would risk being in a physical altercation with one of the best ufc fighters on the scene right now. 

you leave pretty soon after that and you’re immediately all over her in the car. between kisses you tell her “that was pretty hot.”

you have some of the best sex of your life that night.

i refuse to ever write descriptions of reader's outfits bc like.....what if you don't like the outfit i picked? use your imagination

tags: @modedelagauze

[snootlestheangel]

Here's one of the better ideas I've had in a hot minute that I forgot about for a couple of days (it appeared when I was trying to fall asleep and I thought about it so good I slept really hard and it disappeared until this morning)

Combining fantasy and modern day

Price, Soap, and Gaz are still the 141 and are still SAS and still highly skilled soldiers. It's still a modern military for them, and everything is just about the same.

The fantasy element comes with assassins.

There's a worldwide understanding basically that any country, place, person, what have you, can hire an assassin for whatever purpose. They're kind of an independent, neutral organization that regulates how much an individual should be making based on the task they're being asked to do (assassins but if they unionized)

But they're not called an assassin

They're Reapers.

Unnamed ghouls of darkness that leave behind a trail of bodies everywhere they go.

Its a dangerous job, one that's short lived and where one dies unknown and uncared for. It's why seniority ranks so high for Reapers, and usually the senior a Reaper, the more notorious they've become. The most notorious Reapers get named, not only by other Reapers, but by the world. But these are few and far between.

The most notorious was named Grimm. It's presumed he was the first Reaper and the most successful. He had a whopping thirty year long career, and an impressive number of confirmed kills.

Then there's Plague, War, Shadow, and Oni. *yall see the vision?*

All Reapers wear dark, more form fitting clothes. Perfect to blend in and move around undetected. The named ones get ornate masks, still made of dark colors to blend in, but an image that imprints on people that are lucky to survive.

But then there's Ghost. The only Reaper to wear white. The saying there is "when you're so good at your job, what's the point in following the dress code?"

He has a decent career now of ten years. In his early two years, he was the laughingstock of Reapers. A Reaper who wears white? Surely I'll see him coming!

But it's how he earned his name faster than any other named Reaper. After just two years, people quickly realized the white mask didn't make a difference. He was lethality personified. He was there and then he wasn't, like a ghost. There's definitely some play about ghosts always being portrayed as white sheets with holes in them.

But Reapers have a bit of power in their own to choose who they worked for, what they do, and for how much.

Reapers could place bids on anyone/thing asking for assistance from one of them. The actual bidding process is unknown to any organization that isn't a Reaper, and being bid on isn't always a good thing. Sometimes it means Reapers want to take YOU out, and they're competing to see who gets the honors. Seniority and notoriety gave bonus "points" to the bids, and named Reapers usually won everything they bid on because of those extra points gained: and usually just because of those extra points *wink wink*

Task Force 141 is stuck dealing with a massive terrorist network and they're having trouble taking out many of their targets.

So against what is considered ethical, they make the announcement they're looking for a Reaper.

And the bids started off high. Most Reapers only bid to be the one so they could see how high the numbers got.

Laswell is the one fortunate enough to inform the boys when the bid closes and they get their Reaper. It's an official message from an unknown origin, impossible to trace. It details how big of a deal this particular bid was for the Reapers, and Laswell shares it with the team.

Their Reaper won by a landslide, Laswell informs. She tells them how even just base bid points, excluding any seniority and notoriety points, the Reaper had outbid the next one by over a thousand points. The bonus points accumulated another 10,000.

And they're all sitting there in shock, cause holy shit, who would bid that high in the first place and who has that much in bonus points????

The message Laswell got?

"Congrats. Your bid broke records, with the winner's base bid being over a thousand points higher than the next. This excludes the ten thousand in points earned from seniority and notoriety. Ghost will dictate the price at his arrival. Best of luck."

A rather shocking way to learn that The Ghost had bid so high on their little team's efforts.

The reason he bid so high, you may be wondering?

Well he wasn't about to let any other Reaper work for his husband, now was he?

Of course, poor Soap MacTavish is in for a world of surprise when he learns his quiet husband Simon Riley is the most notorious Reaper to date.

I have a couple little sneak peek ideas brewing for anyone that wants to ask. I'm just gonna let this settle first 😁

[classicanalyzer]

LEGO Star Wars Rebuild The Galaxy Thoughts

"Nothing makes sense, and everything's mixed up, and that's okay. Things fall apart, but maybe they can come back together better than before." Sig Greebling

Rebuild The Galaxy is my favorite out of all the D+ LEGO SW specials. I really love the connections to LEGO and SW, including the previous LEGO SW shows, especially Freemaker Adventures. Michael Kramer did an amazing job with the soundtrack, Sig's and Yesi's themes were well-composed.

Part I

"For someone who spends all his time telling stories about heroes, you have no idea how to be one. Maybe that's why you like history so much. It's over and done, but your life isn't. There's so much ahead of you if you'd just try, but you're afraid." Dev Greebling

Sig Greebling is such a cool name. I really love how he's a literal in-universe SW fan, yet someone who actually wants to be normal despite his Force sensitivity. I find it funny he's a literal Nerf herder. I do emphasize of how he wanted to avoid all the expectations if people know he's Force-sensitive.

I love the reference to Wookiees originally being a part of RotJ before being replaced with Ewoks.

Fennesa is a cool-looking world. Yesi Scala is another cool name (I get reminded of Scala Ad Caleum from KH haha). It's too bad Sig's indecisiveness and inability to step out of his comfort zone translates to his social life, even his crush. The background painting showing the sunset is so beautiful.

I really like how the Ackbar Troopers are the Clones in this universe. They must have chosen Ackbar as the main host due to his skills since he was a skilled warrior and leader, but definitely also for the memes out of universe. I also love how Phase I was used because the Kaminionans designed the Phase I suit based on aquatic species like themselves and would fit the Mon Calamari Clones.

The fighting animation and choreography for Yesi's fight against the Ackbar Troopers are so well animated. I laughed seeing that one Ackbar Trooper shooting with two blasters. I can see why Sig likes Yesi. Also ooff, Yesi lost her father in this timeline to the Empire. You can feel the bleak state of this galaxy under this Empire. At least, Yesi's desire to fly among the stars and not live in a backwater world is still there. I like how Sig also mentioned how Rancors are actually misunderstood intelligent creatures.

Double ooff, Sig's brother is now Darth Devastator "Dev". At least we finally get our first on-screen appearance of Jedi Bob!

Part II

"Being a hero is easier when you don't know the cost...Sig, the Force doesn't work that way. The dark side is loud and obvious like a big, mean Gamorrean kicking you in the head over and over. But the light side, the light side of the Force is just a whisper in the back of your mind." Bobolian Afol "Jedi Bob"

Darth Rey as Dev's apprentice feels so wrong about the intentional nature of aspects of this new universe. Jedi Bob!...or rather Bobolian Afol lmao (I also love how the markings seem a bit faded which signals his age). I love this cynical Jedi who sucks at fighting but is amazing at the Force...which is what a true Jedi should specialize in.

FREEMAKER LORE! THE FORCE BUILDERS ARE BACK! I love seeing them once again and hearing Bob recap them feels cathartic.

Ewok Bounty Hunters is one thing but bounty hunter C-3PO channeling his Triple 0 and HK-47 vibes in a Naboo Royal Cruiser with gold plating feels so right yet so wrong in the best ways possible. Yesi really has a lot of baggage with her wanting to prove herself and redeem herself for accidentally getting a rebel base captured.

Mos Eisley Marina made me die on the inside lmao. Tatooine isn't boring anymore lmao. I do love how this is a nod to how the BoBF and Legends mention Tatooine being once covered with oceans before becoming a desert world.

Like father like son indeed, however, even Anakin wouldn't go that far to cheat. I do love how Luke and Anakin use the same Podracer. Poor Max Rebo.

I love how Maul in this galaxy is much more relaxed and happy. At least, in this galaxy, Maul gets to live his life without the tragedies in his main galaxy life.

I love the implication that Nubs is well-known in the main galaxy that Sig knows about him. I'm incredibly confident that Darth Hammerhead is Rusty. Even in another universe, nobody remembers his name lmao.

That brief Duel of the Fates theme playing when Darth Jar Jar appeared was so hype and chilling. His line goes unironically hard.

Part III

"I know you can't restore a galaxy once it's gone because I tried to restore my own, and I failed. In the galaxy I'm from, things were simpler. I was a Padawan on Alistan Nor, learning the secrets of Force Building. I'd heard rumors about the Cornerstone. The more I read, the more obsessed I became. Was it possible to remake an entire galaxy? I needed to know the truth. My Masters forbid me from searching for the Cornerstone, but I wasn't exactly good at following orders. There were so many rules. I just wanted to do things my own way. I thought I could control the Cornerstone. I never thought -- When I left that temple, everything was different. My galaxy was gone, Sig. And yours had just been born." Bobolian Afol "Jedi Bob"

We truly reached the pinnacle of miniaturized Death Star tech with the Dark Falcon lmao.

Darth Jar Jar definitely isn't dead and I love what little time we had with him.

I love the lights looking like the Binary Sun and the music playing as Luke looks towards them.

I love how Palpatine in this universe is a cynic who gave up on fighting. I like that fascinating take on this alternate Palpatine. The new Jedi Council (I like the faded and scratched markings similar to Jedi Bob signals their age and tiredness of a seemingly hopeless war) is insane with Jedi Vader (I love that this is a SW Infinities comic reference, it felt cathartic to see it realized in visual media), Dooku, Cad Bane, Jannah, Lobot, IG-88(?), and even Jabba. I really love that Jannah has more to do here including her actress returning to voice her.

Greedo being the Han of this universe was so funny. He even has the Rodian ears for his Slave I Firespray ship lmao.

I love how Yesi recreates the energy in TFA when she does smth incredibly insane with Greedo's ship. Sig saying I do feels like his and Yesi's "I know" moment. And a Star Trous mention. I also feel like Yesi's point of how you fix the mistake got to Jedi Bob and got to him into revealing the truth. I love how Grevious is one of the rebels in this universe.

Alistan Nor!!! THAT'S THE FORCE BUILDER WORLD AND IT WAS MENTIONED IN FREEMAKER ADVENTURES.

Damn, this Han really became just like his mentor in the old universe. A true scoundrel.

God that twist of the old universe never coming back is gut-wrenching...especially since Jedi Bob is the only survivor of his old universe. The story of Jedi Bob is beyond tragic. One simple curiosity into the cornerstone left him the only survivor. Spending all that time alone in the Temple to make sure it doesn't happen again...only for it to happen again. I also really love how the simple galaxy is represented by 4:3 aspect ratio and all LEGO figures are the classic yellow designs.

WHEN SERVO WAS DESTROYED, I FELT MY HEART BREAKING APART. God that was heartbreaking to see, just like many heroes before him in his stories, to save his friends Sig gave himself up.

Part IV

"The tales of my galaxy. The tales of people like Dev. My Dev. I don't wanna forget them. They matter." Sig Greebling

God the intro with the sad music and Servo shutting down just hurts me in ways I cannot comprehend. The collapsing logo really showcases we're in the endgame.

I love how Yoda is voiced by his Young Jedi Adventure VA in this show. It is heartbreaking to see Ian Han hate Yoda given the very first major LEGO SW special (The Padawan Menace was one of my first non-SW movie experiences in my childhood).

Even if Dev is mentally messed up, I really like how he came around to having a brother and want to be brothers. I like how Sig realizes this is all a fantasy of a galaxy he can never restore. He fights to save this galaxy now.

I'm happy Tico got to a substantial role in this show alongside Rey. Reusing the Nobody line toward Darth Rey was pretty cruel.

The space battle was shot very well and I love the designs of the Calamari Destroyers.

Dev's breakdown was pretty disturbing to see and how he took the rage and lack of happiness in his life to put his idea of "order" and to take control of his life. Especially how he sees himself as beyond redemption and the point of no return.

The quote I used for the introduction quote is beautifully anti-nihilist.

The fight is so well choreographed and so peak, especially when the brief moment the windows were destroyed and the energy shield was activated. The fact the Nerf herder stick came back to be a major turning point in the fight against Dev is great. It was heartbreaking and I got a bit misty-eyed to see Dev ultimately decide to remain evil.

My heart repaired itself as Servo was reconstructed. The old galaxy is gone but the stories will live on. And leave it for Servo to interrupt Sig and Yesi's tender moment haha.

The ending shot with the new crew really felt like the passing of the torch between the Freemaker Adventures to Rebuild the Galaxy. I hope we get to see the Freemaker cast, especially the Freemaker family on Alistan Nor.

Also, The Landolorian and Evil Grogu has been so hyped as the sequel hook alongside Darth Rey and Tico being in charge of the Empire.

This is such a great show and I can't wait to see more LEGO SW stories set in this universe.

I love the score by Kramer who is also responsible for Ninjago’s score (alongside Jay Vincent):

[nausikaaa]

i love all of this so much and might end up writing a fic after all, because now this concept is living rent free in my head! once my schedule clears up, i hope you won't mind if i utilise some of your wonderful ideas, will full credit of course!

i really wish i had the motivation to write rn, because i have an idea for a post-canon Dracula fic where the characters have to deal with world war one. like, how do you even cope with thinking you saved all those lives, only for the entire western world to go to absolute shit just 20-ish years later? if only Bram Stoker had known what was coming.

anyway, i find it so interesting to consider what certain characters would do in that situation.

depending on when he was born, Quincey Jr could be just old enough to enlist or get drafted. or honestly, he might just want to be a hero like his parents, and lie about his age. and let's be real, that boy has some latent vampire powers that would give him an edge.

Jonathan has good survival instincts, an ear for languages, and the ability and willingness to scale sheer walls with a knife between his teeth if necessary. Mina has a really impressive memory for conversations and schedules, a love of technology, experience resisting what is essentially supernatural interrogation, and probably some vampire side effects of her own. both of them know shorthand and have plenty of experience with life or death situations. they would kick ass as spies and wireless operators.

Jack and Van Helsing would have to cease the medical malpractice to be actual army doctors. maybe learn about shell shock and call up Jonathan about that old "brain fever" diagnosis of his.

and what would Arthur even do? what did lords do during WW1? try to keep his friends out of harm's way? use his seat in government to try and end the war? grapple with the fact that lordships are falling out of favour and the world is moving on into a modern era without him?

i just find it fun to ponder.

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 7

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

A new day a new chapter! Today we get into the Water Prison. The real question: will Shen Qingqiu actually make it out?

No Charlie pics today, I have been abandoned at my reading/writing station, but I do have tea! Tea today is a blueberry jasmine.

Let's get into it!!!!

What the fuck?! Is this an acid lake? p89

Dang it really is crazy how after two accusations with zero evidence or proof that Shen Qingqiu actually did anything, he get's locked up in maximum security prison. p89

Right now I'm having war flashbacks from MDZS -> another protagonist out here doing their best with the rest of the world just making shit up about them for fun. RE: Little Palace mistress and her delusions of what SQQ did. She literally even says- he didnt say you did anything but I have a vibe. Like what? p91

We are gathered here today to all witness how Shen Qingqiu is once again refusing to acknowledge that he is indeed the Love Interest. Honestly, does anyone ever tell him? I live for the day the system changes his classification from villain to Love interest and actually tells him this. Idk if it happens, but now I need it to happen. Re: "what fit even less was the fact, in the original work, the Little Palace Mistress's refined iron whip had only been used for attacking love rivals" p93

Luo Binghe to the rescue!! p94 just catching that whip

Okay but when SQQ states that something is wrong with the script- is he actually on the path to understanding? or still clueless? I hope he sort of realizes what's happening, because dang this guy has 0 idea Luo Binghe would kill for him p95

OOP. "There is no need for Shizun to be so wary. If I wished to do something to you, I wouldn't need to touch you at all" p96

Re: point above about "is he understanding?" *deep sigh * SQQ has not learned at all and refuses to actively listen. He is still trying to follow the old script p.97. Okay but I do love how this guy is accidentally getting himself (in a weird way) romanced.

I honestly am pretty sure this is a dating sim XD "*to the system* Do you think we're playing a dating sim?!" p99

omg torture via demon blood is horrible. Like this is a worst nightmare, having little bugs in your organs NO THANKS. p101

I'm crying LOOOOOL two options; 1. the fake jade guanyin. 2. [Activate Small Scene Pusher] and gets his CLOTHES ripped off. Bro is now the lead in a period bodice ripper XD p102

*face palm* "Does it just take advantage of Luo Binghe's physiological disgust upon seeing a man's half-naked body?" p104. no my man, it is not disgust

oh no, giving him his outer robe made it more scandalous p104

RIP confirmed that that is the previous canon's sex robe p106

literally everyone has a feeling about what's up. Gongyi Xiao is eyeing SQQ, see's the robe and does indeed assume things about SQQ and Luo Binghe. How stupid is SQQ??? p107

Re: the note from Shang Qinghua to SQQ. Shang Qinghua is also an idiot, this guy had 1 job and that was to not fuck up the mushrooms. he goofed this exponentially. RIP those mushrooms. p109

Welp. Gongyi Xiao is realizing that Luo BInghe may not be as pure of heart as he thought p112

it's so much worse though- he really thinks that Luo Binghe assaulted SQQ and is now helping SQQ escape. p113

meanwhile SQQ is living in his own universe LOL no idea these are the assumptions. Also, IDK what's going to happen when Luo Binghe inevitably see's SQQ in Gongyi Xiao's robe. RIP GYX p115

Okay but SQQ I too would freak the fuck out if I had a walking/wake dream. Meng Mo's realm is no joke. p120-121

Dang Luo Binghe has become so strong. This dreamscape is insane. pp 124-126

again with the clothes ripping. I hope one day they enjoy this consensually. p127 (blessed be this canon for the fanfics)

in which SQQ does not realize that the fight in the dreamscape is indeed not a fight- it is most definitely foreplay. p128

I fucking KNEW IT Luo Binghe was NOT pleased with SQQ wearing Gongyi Xiao's robe. LOOOL. p130

but also I don't know what became of GYX but let's take a moment to remember him, I am sure he did not make it.

oh gosh more tragic SQQ backstory :( p132

I am glad I clocked it in the last chapter. Something was so fishy about the family that took him in and his "betrothal" my heart for SQQ :( :( :( p134

Okay get it Ning YinYing!!!! Re: her talking shit to and about Little Palace Mistress to her face! p138

yes she got slapped but still she did a pretty good job! and her sect siblings have her back.

That is it for today!!

Oh god. ofc we leave on a cliffhanger with a shady guy ready to super saiyan AND the next chapter is ominously titled "Death". I am not prepared for this!

[lavendertales]

SEÑORITA: Chapter 7**

pairing: Javier Peña x Murphy!f!reader

summary: following your fallout with Steve, you find yourself on Javier's doorstep.

word count: 6.4k (oops)

series warnings: reluctant friends to lovers, lots of playful banter, mutual pining, slow burn, secret relationship, filthy smut.

chapter warnings: face sitting, body worship, piv (safe).

A/N: here we are ya'll, the long awaited explosion of the slow burn hehehe. thank you so much for all the comments and the love, it means so much to me 💕I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well, and feedback is always much appreciated!

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

series masterlist | AO3

You would’ve preferred to sit down inside your apartment in order to have this conversation rather than wander aimlessly on the hot streets of New York at almost midnight with your brother, but the surroundings are less important than the issue at hand.

Steve offered to buy frozen yogurt for the two of you, and fight as you might, you were persuaded to eat a little bowl of strawberry cold goodness. The two of you sat down at this little place on the corner, both clearly too uptight to initiate the conversation. So you clear your throat, exhaling slowly and steadily, and braced yourself.

“Steven—“

“I’m sorry.”

He blurts out the words as he stares at you, his eyes big and regretful.

“I’m so sorry for not supporting you more,” he continues, putting down the spoon. “And for not taking more of an interest in your hobby. It clearly means so much to you and I… I know I was a dickhead.”

“If you’re waiting for me to disagree it’s not going to happen.”

Steve chuckles, huffing.

“It’s more than a hobby, Steve,” you tell him. “In an ideal world where money wouldn’t be a thing, this would be my dream job. I’d do nothing else but write, travel and eat food all over the world. It’s why I took a job at the library. It’s the closest I’ll ever be to achieving that dream.”

“That makes me sad.”

“Made me sad too. But this is reality, and denying it won’t do me any favors.”

“You were always so much more mature and rational than me.”

Surprised, you make a face at him, unable to contain yourself. You’ve never heard such words from your brother.

“Me?” you say with a light chuckle escaping from your lips. “The eternal dreamer?”

“Yeah. Sure, you like to picture fictional worlds and get lost in them but you never lose sense of reality. You’re neither optimistic nor pessimistic. You just… live in the now.”

“You know… I’m actually really close to getting my own book published.”

Steve’s eyes widen further, his face revealing nothing but sheer excitement at this point, and the sight softens you; so much so that you smile involuntarily, rather flustered to finally share this news with him.

“That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you!” he nearly shouts.

“Thanks, thanks. You’re the third person I tell this to.”

“Third?”

“Javier and Sylvie know.”

“Oh. I see. Is it based on Star Wars? Or inspired by it?”

You frown. “No, you doofus, it’s my own story. If I were to publish a fanfiction for Star Wars, I’d definitely get sued by George Lucas.”

“Kind of defeats the point of writing it, doesn’t it?”

As happy as you felt a minute ago, you feel just as dumbfounded now.

“The point, again, is creativity,” you reply. “You start from there and you build towards your own independent stories.”

“Isn’t it a waste of time? I mean why not start right at—“

“Oh my God! You’ve been this way since we were kids. You always thought you’re superior, whether you realized it or not.”

“I didn’t. And I didn’t mean to insult—“

“You never mean to and yet you still do.”

Steve watches you stand up, hands on your hips and munching on your lower lip in what can only be described as anger finally bubbling up at the surface.

“Mom and dad always sung your praises because you chose to do things logically and fit into society while I was a bitter disappointment for spending time alone in my room, reading and writing,” you say. “You finished high school and went straight to the Academy and mom and dad couldn’t have been prouder. Me? I finished high school and went to study literature in college and it still wasn’t good enough.”

“Nobody ever said that, you know it’s not true.”

“They didn’t have to say it. I could see it in their eyes, the way they spoke. I was the weirdo who needed a social life while you were their beloved Steven, making his way into the real world at such a young age, being so brave. Mom and dad never stopped thinking there’s something wrong with me and they didn’t hesitate in telling me that with every chance they got. Passive aggressively but still.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know. I know that now. It took years of therapy to realize that.”

Steve watches you closely, filled with unrelenting guilt. He’s never seen you this decisive and mad, but he knows deep down he’s had it coming. All of the things he wished for your relationship are slowly going down the drain and he begins to fear that if he doesn’t say the right thing now and try his hardest to be here for you, he will lose you forever.

“I never meant to treat you any way other than with respect,” he says, his voice oddly hoarse. “I know I’m pushing things a lot of the time and I exaggerate and I have no right to intervene in your personal life, but it only comes from a place of needing to protect you.”

“I can protect myself, Steven.”

He huffs, grabbing your wrist and thus urging you to sit back down. “Do you remember in seventh grade when that group of idiots picked on you while you were reading on the playground? It rained heavily the day before and they snatched the book from your hands and threw it into a puddle, ruining it.”

“Yeah, I—I remember.”

“And then you told me that one of them, the bigger one, came onto you that same afternoon and forcefully kissed you. I had him suspended.”

“What—how?”

“I may have… broke his nose and threatened him to worse if he didn’t go to the principal’s office to confess to both forcing himself onto you and to bullying you.”

“Oh my—you never told me that.”

Steve shrugs. “Pretty sure that was the moment I started to be mindful of the guys that were around you. And when you got annoyed and purposely started dating the worst guys you could find, things have gotten wild.”

“You can say that again.”

You both chuckle.

“You know, the fact that you confided in Javi about your book before me or Connie is a bit hurtful,” Steve admits.

“Do you know why I told Javier first? Even before Sylvie? Because he asked me. It’s that simple. He took an interest in my passion and he actually cared about it. Hell, he turned my Star Wars story into a real book. He made it into a book just for me because he knows how much it means to me, and how much writing means to me.”

“He what?”

You nod. “Yeah. He didn’t mock me, he didn’t assume he knows better than me. He even encouraged me to keep going, which is how I’m close to finishing the editing part of my book faster than I anticipated. And this from a guy who was a complete stranger to me three months ago. You keep saying that Javier is your best friend but you don’t seem to treat him that way. You treat him like he’s bad news, like you didn’t go through all that shit together in Colombia. You need to get your shit together. Javier is a really good man. A good friend, and an overall good person.”

“I know he is, I’m just worried about him too like I’m worried about you. He hasn’t been the same since we came back from Colombia. It changed him in ways that I… I don’t know. I have Connie and Olivia and I feel so lucky but… he keeps to himself. He barely allows anyone in so I don’t know what it’s like inside his head. I was just so worried that you’d both rush into something you might not be ready for and end up hurting each other.”

You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath for quite some time, but you certainly hadn’t felt the need to breathe, not in this moment when years of anger and misunderstandings culminate in the most honest sentences either of you have ever spoken to each other.

“Even if we did rush into a relationship or casual dating or whatever, it still wouldn’t be your call to make,” you remind him. “It’s not your decision, it’s mine and his. We’re both adults, tip-toeing around each other and around you because you have this weird protection fetish.”

“It’s not—“

“You know what I meant.”

“I—I’m really sorry, sis. I just wanted us to be closer. I went the wrong way about it, I know that.”

“You did. Trying to intimidate your best friend and controlling whoever your baby sister is around is not the way to go about this. You pulled the same shit in high school and look how that turned out.”

“I was worried about you, about both of you.”

“And you had reasons to, I’ll give you that. But now there is none. I’m okay. And Javier can talk if he feels like it.”

“You don’t know him the way I do.”

“Maybe not. But you don’t know him like I do, either.”

Steve calls out your name once you get ready to leave.

“Whom I date is none of your business,” you retort. “Not even if that someone was your best friend. Which is not. So cut it out already and get your shit together. If you can’t accept this, then leave me the hell alone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate it. And I appreciate what you did for me that time in the seventh grade. I really do. But I need some time before I can truly forgive you.”

Javier hadn’t expected the erratic knock on the door at this hour, and he certainly hadn’t expected to be met with the sight in his doorway.

You look just as lovely as ever, though you do seem to be a little tense. He doesn’t ask; instead, he looks you over and welcomes you inside, waiting for you to offer some explanation for your late visit, already perilous enough as it is.

“I know it’s late, I’m sorry,” you coo. “I just—this was the first place I thought of. Didn’t wanna be alone in my apartment.”

“It’s okay. What happened?”

“Why do you assume something happened? Can’t a friend pay a visit to another friend?”

“They can, but not with that expression on their face.”

“What expression?”

“You look like you’ve been run over.”

You frown, distancing yourself from him even further.

“I’m your friend, I should be able to tell you this without a problem,” Javier adds.

“No, you sure can. Thank you for the fine observation.”

“Glad I could be of service. Do you want a drink?”

Say no, your mind screams at you, almost begs. You shouldn’t be drinking, not when you’re feeling vulnerable after the raw conversation you’ve had at long last with your brother, and certainly not around Javier.

It’s not that you don’t trust yourself. You know what you can and can’t handle.

You’re simply afraid the liquor might provide you with the courage to finally tell him exactly what’s on your mind, and that you might end up being rejected. Something tells you Javier might choose loyalty and rationality over his feelings.

He keeps to himself, Steve told you.

“Little bit of whiskey would be nice if you have it,” you eventually reply, catching both Javier and yourself off guard.

“Didn’t know you drink whiskey.”

“I don’t. Not really. Only when I need something really strong.”

“I take it the conversation with Steve didn’t go that well then.”

Fucking hell, how does he do this? How does he intuit things about you without you even saying or hinting them?

“It did. I think,” you smile as a glass of amber liquid is being handed to you. “We talked things through, I told him my piece… he apologized. And he meant it, I could tell.”

“He’s an honest guy, and he means well.”

“I know he does. He only ever wanted to be there for his baby sister and to be a good friend, but he’s taken things too far. Which he’s acknowledged.”

“Color me intrigued and shocked.”

You smile, hiding the gesture in the glass and stealing a glance at Javier. An unfamiliar warmth surrounds you, wraps you in a blanket of confusion and longing that you’re certain you haven’t felt up until now.

“So how come you ended up here then?”

“I don’t know. I just… stormed off, told him I appreciate his apology but I need some time before I can fully forgive him.”

“While we’re at it…” Javier clears his throat, lowering his now empty glass, “I’m sorry too.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

“You didn’t cause this.”

“I feel like I kind of did mess things up though. I’m quite good at it.”

“Javier…”

“What?”

You lower your glass too, reaching out to take his hand which he hesitantly accepts. “You’re not a bad guy. In no way, shape or form. Trust me on this. I know them pretty well. And you don’t fit in that category.”

When you smile at him, so sincere and bright, Javier pulls back his hand, chugging the rest of whiskey and focusing solely on the way it burns his throat.

And yet when he thinks of the way his body feels when you’re around you, that all-too-familiar burn is nothing compared to it.

“If I wouldn’t have taken this job, maybe things wouldn’t have been this way between you and Steve,” Javier mutters.

“Things between me and Steve have been rocky for years. They would’ve probably continued to be tense if you hadn’t pushed us to talk. Involuntarily, of course. And besides, if you wouldn’t have taken the job… I wouldn’t have met you.”

“I don’t know anyone whose life was better for having known me.”

“There is someone I can think of.”

Javier briefly gazes at you and quickly wishes he’d evaporate. It feels too much, far too consuming to even maintain eye contact with you on account of all the fear, the impossible yearning, the confusion and the—

No. stop it. This is not that.

“Anyway,” you resume, feeling a bit short of breath yourself, “I don’t think Steve wanted me to meet you in the first place.”

“That kinda makes me wanna get back at him.”

“Me too. And you know what would show him?”

Javier raises his brow, already anticipating and dreading the answer before it ever leaves your mouth.

“If we hooked up,” you smile wickedly.

He cocks an eyebrow, his interest peaked and his stomach all twisted in knots. “That so?”

“Mhm. We could let him stew in doubt, let him guess.”

“How would we pull that off?”

“Well, since we already agreed actually doing it is out of the question, a light touch on the arm when we’re all together, gazing at each other from afar, smiling… a kiss on the cheek, stuff like that.”

Javier has no idea when he finds himself in your close proximity again. All he knows is that he’s sitting on the chair next to you, leaning in yet again, cursing his own inner demons for fighting a losing battle, and his breaths betraying his restlessness.

“The buildup to a kiss is the best part,” he coos, and you swear you shiver for a second. “One of them, anyway.”

“Is it though?”

“Yes. What kind of jackasses did you date in the past? Jesus Christ.”

“The worst I could find.”

Against his better judgment—if there was any of it left—Javier chuckles, forcing himself to look at you.

“The moment you look into each other’s eyes and lean in, that’s where it all starts. It’s simple but it’s really powerful stuff. Heart beats faster. Breaths get shallower. At some point your eyes sort of drift away to the other’s lips, wondering what they taste and feel like. And then, when you finally feel bold enough to lean in more…”

You close your eyes, Javier’s faintly whiskey-infused breath all warm and tingly over your lips, and you wait. What you receive in return is a phone ringing though, so you instantly pull away, opening your eyes again and noticing the same expression on Javier’s face as you assume is on yours: desperation.

“I—“he starts, but you shush him immediately.

“It’s okay.”

We shouldn’t anyway, you think.

“Hello?” Javier practically groans into the telephone. “Hey, Con.”

You turn towards him on instinct, curious about the subject matter between the two, though you shouldn’t be; you know exactly what this is about, and at this late hour nonetheless.

“No,” Javier answers in an unusually dark and steady voice, eyes locked on your figure. “She’s not here.”

You look at him, utterly taken aback, and you gulp.

“Have you at least heard from her?” Connie inquires at the other end, unbeknownst to you. “She had a talk or a fight or something with Steve and now he’s worried. He says he called her apartment, went there and there’s no answer. It’s a whole thing.”

“I haven’t heard from her.”

“Javi…”

“Look, Con, with all due respect and care, she’s a grown woman and Murphy needs to stop babying her. She’s perfectly capable of making her own choices and seems to me that right now she doesn’t want to be found. So whatever you think it is that I’m doing…”

“I’m not thinking anything. Should I?”

“We’re… friends.”

“Have you noticed that whenever you say that, the pause between ‘we’ and ‘friends’ gets bigger?”

Javier frowns and blinks several times in a row, dumbfounded. “What?”

“It started out as ‘oh, we’re friends’ but now it’s more along the lines of ‘oh. We’re… sigh… friends’.”

“I sound nothing like that.”

“Javi. Come on.”

“I told you, Con. She’s not here tonight. Wherever she is, I’m sure she’s fine. She just wants to be left alone for a bit.”

“Well if you hear from her—“

“Yeah. Goodnight, Connie.”

Javier hangs up, frozen in the same spot. He knows that now there is no going back and that he’s in deep shit, but truthfully he only gives a damn about your well-being.

Everything else is tomorrow’s problem.

“You lied,” you coo.

“Fine observation skills.”

“Thank you.”

Javier stares at the ground, processing his own words and thoughts. Ever since he left Colombia, he’s all but tried to always do the right thing, the honorable thing and be a respectable man in today’s society. Not the Javier that worked with one of the most gruesome groups in the world for the greater cause, not Javier that bent the American embassy’s rules to fit into his scenarios, but a new Javier that was good and learned from his mistakes.

And now, every time he looks at you, he feels himself falling deeper into temptation, on the verge of making another mistake. Only this one might not be so easy to fix.

“Don’t thank me,” he mutters, pacing around the living room. “It was stupid and selfish. Obviously Connie knows you’re here and Steve’s gonna know and the whole thing’s gonna blow up in my fucking face.”

You notice him purposely avoiding your eyes and you reckon by the edgy way he’s marching through the living room that there are dozens of things on his mind now, if not more.

“Javier.”

No answer, more pacing.

“Javier, look at me.”

Still no answer, slightly less pacing.

“Why aren’t you looking at me? A minute ago you couldn’t stop looking at me when we were about to—“

“We were about to do nothing.”

“Right. I just—“

Then, Javier turns to you so abruptly it startles you for a second. You watch him walk towards you with a look on his face that you can’t quite put together. But it doesn’t intimidate you, nor does it scare you. On the contrary: it rather makes you want to hold him and be with him.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his chocolate, soft eyes now glued to yours.

“I’m not—I’m not doing any—“

“No, you’re fucking consuming me. Eating me alive from inside out. And looking at you… whenever I look at you, I feel my promise to Steve break. I feel myself break, I feel… I feel the way I did back in Colombia, all fucked up and twisted and you don’t deserve that.”

“You never talk about it. Colombia.”

Javier purses his lips, holding his breath. “Sometimes it feels like I never left. Like it’s hell all around me. But then I think I can’t possibly be in hell cause you wouldn’t be there otherwise.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, your cheeks scorch with flattery and your body only craves more.

“Instead, you’re… here,” Javier continues, somewhat distraught. “You’re here and you’re… warm and fun and… alive. And your scent… I can’t get it out of my fucking head even if I know I should, I really should. Fucking… lavender, ruining me. And I just… I was hollow back there. I was dark and a jackass and… not as half as honorable as I thought I was, or that I’d be. I did shitty things, bad things. Colombia twisted me in ways I can’t revert. But I want to be better now, I want to be worthy, ironically because of you and for you. So looking at you feels like the most incredible thing in the world and the worst.”

You inch closer, breathless from the words that have been thrown at you, so raw and heartfelt.

“Did you ever kill a child?” you ask, and you can see the surprise on Javier’s face as the question is being processed by him.

“No.”

“A woman?”

“No.”

You nod once, slowly, inching even closer to him. “I thought we’re friends,” you whisper.

“We are, which is why I’m saying this with respect and care. Being your friend is killing me.”

“You said I’m not your type.”

“Apparently I was wrong. So very wrong. Apparently… you’re the very thing that I want. Pathetically desperate and… so fucking needy.”

Your skin is on fire by now, your throat dry and your mouth practically drooling.

“Javi,” you manage to get out.

“No, don’t—don’t do this to me right now.”

“Don’t do what? What are you—“

“Don’t say ‘Javi’, not like that.”

“How should I say it then?”

Javier’s eyes drop to your lips, and all of a sudden he’s unable to look elsewhere, consumed entirely by the unholiest thoughts he’s ever known.

“I got some ideas,” he whispers, his tongue wetting his lips.

“Mind sharing them with me?”

“I can’t.”

“But I want you to do this to me. There, verbal consent.”

Javier cocks his head to the side, thus exposing his neck and you’re feeling more parched than ever.

“The things I could do to you…” he mutters as if strictly to himself. “The things I could show you…”

“So show them to me. Show me… you.”

“Fuck, I want—“

“What do you want, Javi?”

The way you said his name, fully aware of the effect it has on him now and how much it messes with his mind, it makes Javier unable to think straight and certainly unable to resist you. In what can only be described as an act of insanity, Javier’s hand boldly rests on your waist, barely touching, and yet enough for both of you to feel the heat radiating from it.

“I want to do this right,” he says. “You’re not a random hookup. I—I wanna take you out to dinner, get to know you and be with you.”

“Dinner sounds nice.”

“Tomorrow night at seven?”

“Okay.”

In an even more insane act, you decide to move closer to him so that your lips press against his stubbled cheek. The touch is tentative, meant to be appreciative and thankful, but in the end, it only acts as a detonator to an already short enough fuse.

Before your brain properly understands what’s happening, you feel Javier sliding down your body until he kneels before you and wraps his arms around your legs and look up at you.

“Show me how to be good,” Javier mutters, and it shocks you to your core. “Show me how to be good, for you. Please.”

You open your mouth, and yet nothing comes out. Your mind must’ve short-circuited because no words come to mind except Sylvie’s from many weeks ago. 

Mark my words, this Javier is gonna be on his knees before you, asking you to teach him how to be good.

Then you’re gonna be in big trouble, missy.

Damn you, Sylvie.

Still tongue-tied, you place your index finger beneath Javier’s chin, thus signaling him to stand back up. He follows obediently, staring at you once more and waiting, his heart in his throat.

Finally, at long fucking last, with chills creeping up your spine, you cup Javier’s cheeks and press your lips against his.

And good lord, is this the softest kiss you’ve ever had in your entire life.

It’s languid, tentative at first, as if you’re both waiting for each other’s reaction to it, but within the following seconds, the kiss turns sloppy and heated, betraying your eagerness.

Javier’s hands wrap around your body expertly, and he hums into your mouth, the sound going straight into your cunt almost soaking you on the spot. This is the part of relationships he’s actually really good at, something he’s very confident in, so he wastes no time in guiding you to his bedroom, leaving a wet trail of kisses down on your neck as he plops you on the bed, him atop of you.

“If you want to stop, you gotta tell me now,” he warns, his voice as dark as his eyes. “I mean, we can stop at any point, but if you don’t—“

“I want this, Javier. I want you. I don’t want to stop.”

Javier groans, his mouth back on yours and seemingly devouring it whilst his hands roam nervously on your body. There’s dampness between your legs, and you have the urge to rub your legs together in an attempt to hide the slickness, but when you feel a calloused hand grabbing the back of your thigh, gently squeezing it, you part your legs as if to make enough room for him. And he does; Javier grinds between your legs, beginning to undress you with so much determination it’s causing your head to spin.

By the time you’re topless and writhing beneath him, you’re begging for him to touch you some more. You’re begging for his hands, his mouth, any part of him that he’s willing to give to you, and Javier obeys without a single objection in mind.

“Lift your hips for me,” he instructs, and you do as he says.

Your pants come off, then Javier’s eyes stop on your underwear, already eating you up with a single look.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” you hear him say, and you shiver.

It’s you who pulls him back in for a kiss, and it feels like the most maddening, enticing and damnable thing in the whole wide world. One of Javier’s hands reaches in between your legs, feeling the dampness soaking your panties, and you gasp. He massages your clit through the fabric, having you moan uncontrollably right in his mouth, more so when you’re completely bare, panties thrown carelessly to the side.

“On my face,” Javier manages to get out during the brief pause which he takes to undress himself.

“What?”

“Sit on my face. Right now. I wanna taste you.”

Your mouth ajar, you stare at him struggling to compose yourself but there is no possible scenario in which you can accomplish that successfully. Instead, your eye roam over his shirtless figure, the sight fueling your needs further.

“Will you let me taste you?”

“I—it’s just I’ve never—done that, really.”

Javier looks dumbfounded at you. “You never sat on a guy’s face?”

“No, some of them barely went down on me, so I—“

“Do you trust me?”

You nod.

“Then take a seat.”

Javier lies down on the bed, quickly disposing of his own pants in the process, and it’s only then that you notice how hard he is. It can’t be comfortable, and yet here he is, choosing to do something that’s aimed for your pleasure. Unless of course this gives him great pleasure as well, which you think it does, and that only makes things tougher.

You climb up his body, quivering when you feel his calloused hands kneading the flesh of your ass and thighs as you do so, and quickly try to figure out the logistics of the act. That is, until Javier loses patience and grabs your thighs, placing them on either sides of his face, and you nearly lose your goddamn mind at his first taste he takes of you.

You’re sitting all the way on his face, his nose nudging your clit and his tongue lapping at your folds, collecting every ounce of arousal he can get. It’s pleasure from an angle you didn’t even dream of, and Javier certainly knows his way around a woman’s body. You react out of impulse and grab a handful of his hair, tugging on it while Javier’s tongue splits you open.

“Oh—f-fuck—“

You’re stuttering, heart pounding in your ears and your whole body afire; so much so that you shake, and not out of pleasure—not yet. But the way Javier yaps at your pussy, you somehow know he’s gonna get you there soon.

Beneath you, Javier listens closely to all the sounds you let out for him; he takes the time to feel every portion of your skin, not just the way his mouth is buried in your pussy, and to say he’s in awe would be a crass understatement. When you start grinding on his mouth, your body’s natural reaction to the way ecstasy builds in your body, Javier can’t help his own body’s reaction to it. You don’t see his hand sneaking behind you to curl around his weeping cock, and even if you did, all you’d want would be to take him in your mouth instead, give him at least half the pleasure and happiness he’d been giving you all this time.

“Javi—“

“Mhmmm—sounds so fucking good when you say it like that.”

“J-Javi, please—“

“Shit I could drink from you—all day long.”

Too impatient, both of Javier’s hands go back to your ass, grabbing it so that you rock faster against his tongue, but you’re already moving out of your own accord in a desperate attempt to capture more of his mouth, to have that feeling that’s only bubbling in your belly explode into a thousand explosive flames.

“Need you to say it,” you hear him beg from between your legs. “Can you say it for me, hm? Ask me.”

“Please, Javi…”

“Say it.”

“Javi, I need—I need you. Need to… feel you.”

Then, it all seizes around you: your mind goes blank, your vision goes dark, nothing but stars all around you and unbearable heat bursting from beneath you and going up till your whole body is enveloped in it. Javier’s hands continue to explore your body, touching and caressing every inch of skin, his eyes never leaving your figure like he’s admiring the most precious work of art there is.

“So beautiful,” you see him murmur as you’re getting off him.

Javier licks his lips teasingly just as you lean down to kiss him again. You doubt you’d ever get enough of his mouth now that you’ve finally tasted it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. “And so tasty.”

You smile flustered, still unable to think of anything proper to say. Some words do come to mind, of course; thank you, I appreciate your friendship, I’m in love with you—

Oh no, not that one.

You begin to fear that the way you’re kissing him exposes the reality in your mind, the word you undeniably feel fluttering inside your chest, begging to be released, but you can’t. It’s far too soon and too hasty, so you keep them to yourself. As your bodies get entangled with one another and you find yourself beneath him once again, you abandon those words in a tiny box at the back of your mind, sealed.

 You find that once you keep your mouth shut, you can only gaze at Javier, and he at you. There’s nothing else to be said, not when your body’s being molded in such tender ways by Javier’s hands and mouth, praised for simply being here in between the sheets with him.

“Javi?”

“Hm?”

“Can you please fuck me now? I think we’ve both waited enough.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

Javier reaches over, opening the nightstand and eventually rolling a condom onto his erection, lining up to your entrance. You can’t help but admire Javier, his eyes, his lips, his cheeks, his strong arms, his chest and his belly, the soft, dark curls at the base of his cock, the way his lower lip quivers when he’s overwhelmed.

“You’re so—“you gasp.

And the way he fills you to the brim in one languid, careful thrust is equal parts mesmerizing and enticing.

“So what?” Javier asks.

“So pretty.”

Javier stills for a moment, blinking in confusion. “No one’s said that to me before. I don’t… am I?”

You smile, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes. Very much so.”

Then Javier sinks into you, inch by delicious inch. You feel him pressing down onto you, completely undone and ravished, and keeps muttering into your ear little praises here and there. Your back arched, you take him and his words deep inside you, allowing Javier to consume you as much as he told you that you consume him.

And you have to admit, it is the most maddening sensation in the world.

He starts to move, a new urge overcoming him than when he’d been with women in the past. Being with you feels different because for the first time in so many years, he doesn’t want to rush; in spite of his neediness and almost two years of celibacy, now that he’s here, with you and inside of you, he wants to remain in this moment for as long as possible. He doesn’t have to rush, he realizes. There’s no bombs going off in the distance or shootings—most importantly, Colombia is not out there.

But you are here, soft and warm and kind and beautiful and Javier can barely breathe thinking about how much he adores you.

He wants to say the words, he feels them on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t want to scare you away. And he doesn’t want to rush things when this has the potential to be something so great.

His thrusts keep the same pace, though Javier feels like he could easily come at any given moment. Your tight, warm walls around him make him dizzy, utterly lost in that damned lavender scent and in your eyes and your smile. And your lips—oh God, he could kiss you all day and all night long. All the other times he’d abstained from kissing you, how close he was… how could he not have you that way?

“Javi…”

It’s all he hears, his name moaned from your perfect lips. All he knows now is you, the way you arch your back with each thrust of his, the way you gasp when his hand lays on your stomach and his thumb plays with your clit.

“I’ve thought about this, you and me… before,” you smile, cupping his cheeks.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. I swore I’d never tell you. But now—“

“I thought about it too.”

“You—you did?”

Javier nods, leaning down to peck your lips, the gesture followed by an ecstatic smile.

“I shouldn’t have. I knew it was… it was wrong, it was dirty and cheap… I couldn’t stop. I—I tried, please believe me, I really tried, I—“

“Javi, shhh. I know you did. You were very honorable, and a great friend. Especially now, to me.”

You both smile against each other’s lips, Javier’s hips stuttering after a little while. He feels that familiar burn in his stomach, and that’s the only time he dares speed up, almost manically so. With a few grunts, Javier buries his head in the crook of your neck, cursing once in a while as his orgasm bubbled in his whole body. He needs to feel you pulse around him more than anything.

“I’m—shitshitshit—“

“It’s okay, come for me, Javi.”

“But I—“

“I’m close too.”

“Yeah?”

“S-So close… please…”

You don’t need to beg: you and Javier are right there, both tipping over the edge of sanity and falling right into the pit of passion and ecstasy. Javier grunts the loudest he ever had, spilling himself inside the condom and remaining still above you, the pleasure coursing through his veins overwhelming him completely. He looks down on you and sees your face scrunched up in the most adorable and alluring way and it dawns on him: it’s because of him. You came twice now, once in his mouth and once around his cock, gasping and moaning sweetly because of him. There’s a pride in his chest, pride and flattery, almost to an animalistic, primal degree.

When he pulls out, you feel empty and lonely, though the thought seems ridiculous because he’s right there still, isn’t he? You can’t help it—it’s like you want your bodies to remain united as one for as long as humanly possible.

“Oh, by the way,” Javier says, returning from the bathroom with a towel that he begins to press on your inner thighs and between them, “this is probably obvious, but we’re not telling your brother about this, right?”

You raise your eyebrows, bemused at his genuine question.

“I know we joked about it before, but… still.”

“Unless hell freezes over, no, we are not telling Steven shit.”

previous | next

tags: @pedrostories @psychedelic-ink @milkymoon2483 @ifall4dilfs @casa-boiardi @fallenkitten @jenispunk

[dewitty1]

Fic Recs Wrap Up April 2024♡(੭ˊ͈ ꒵ˋ͈)੭*･:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

Mirror Mirror by epiphany_dex

Harry’s new year starts with a bang when he encounters Draco Malfoy at the Ministry Ball. Rec Post

(Never) Let Me Go by maraudersaffair @maraudersaffair

Harry and Ginny are married, but she abandoned him for her Quidditch career overseas. He is lonely and desperate for love and very interested in sleeping with a man. Then, one night at a party, Draco Malfoy whispers in his ear: Do you want to leave with me? Harry knows he should say no, especially since a scandal would ruin his chance at becoming Head Auror, but Malfoy is entirely too fit to pass up the opportunity. Rec Post

Another Mind Game by May_May_0_0

Harry’s occlumency reveals his disturbing home life which sets off a chain reaction that cannot be undone. Snape finds himself begrudgingly caring about the bespectacled boy, Harry discovers what it’s like to have adults who care, and Hermione finds herself becoming an accidental crime lord. Draco Malfoy is very much along for the ride, in all senses of the word. Rec Post

Dragons Don’t Know Paradise by teacup_tai @teacup-tai

In 2004, when Remus spends two scary weeks in the ITU due to complications of pneumonia and his HIV condition, Sirius walks around the house like a ghost and Harry finds comfort and strength in Draco through a chat in an online LGBT forum. Harry falls for him, but Draco has a lot of secrets and, before long, will need to come clean—even if he believes that no one is able to understand a dragon. Rec Post

Stalking Harry by orphan_account

Harry Potter is the most eligible bachelor in the Wizarding world. Draco Malfoy is a disgraced ex-Death Eater with emotional baggage and a bit of a crush. Rec Post

Through His Eyes (I Am Set Free) by Shewhxmustnxtbenamed @shewhomustnotbenamed

Harry and Draco have a telepathic connection that remains unexplained in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds. Draco is assigned a mission by Voldemort to locate and capture the Boy Who Lived– the trouble is that they don’t know anything about him. While Draco struggles to gather information on this mysteriously absent hero, he and Harry start communicating again for the first time since they were kids. Harry continues life as normal until he discovers information which compels him to abandon his ordinary Muggle life with the endeavor to rescue and emancipate his only friend– even if that means bartering with his own life. Rec Post

A Private Reason for This by Femme (femmequixotic) @femmequixotic

When the wife of a star politician in the Scottish Ministry turns up dead just outside Hogsmeade, Draco Malfoy and his murder investigation team are called in from the Edinburgh Auror force to find her killer. What DCI Malfoy doesn’t expect, however, is to have an ex from two decades past end up in his murder room, endangering not only his case, but also his heart. Rec Post

Consequences of Redemption by ominousflags @ominousflags

When Draco makes an impromptu decision to rescue Harry Potter from Malfoy Manor, the two find themselves completely alone and facing the looming climax of the war against Voldemort. Harry must start from the beginning with Draco–and starting over has more consequences than either of them anticipated. Rec Post

Double Trouble by multiverse_of_fanfic

Four years after the War, Draco is stuck in a dead-end job, paper-pushing his life away. Until one day, after a security breach in the Ministry, he receives an offer he can’t refuse. Thrown back into a world he thought he’d left behind, Draco must wrestle with his Death Eater past as well as his inconvenient — and forbidden — feelings for an annoyingly level-headed Harry Potter.

Will he manage to come out unscathed like he has most of his life, or will it all come crashing down? Rec Post

Here are a few more fics I've read recently that y'all might like to check out as well!(ノﾟ∀ﾟ)ノ━☆ﾟ･*:.｡. .｡.:*･.*･｡ﾟ*:・ﾟ✧

Weapons of Massive Consumption by SanderVanSunshine @sandervansunshine

Eight years after the war, Harry Potter lives a life of hedonism: raging parties, huge impulse purchases, and seemingly no worries. But it's Draco Malfoy—former Death Eater, lover of blueberry muffins, and bane of coffee shop workers—who starts to wonder if it's all a front, if something's actually terribly wrong with him. Why else would Potter ask Draco, of all fucking people, to write his biography?

What We Left Behind by peachydreamxx @peachydreamxx

Harry's recovering from an injury. Malfoy's recovering from heartbreak. Beaten down and bruised, Harry takes up Malfoy's offer to stay at his secluded seaside cottage in Dorset. It'll be good to get away from it all. It's only for a few days, and it's only so he can heal. Nothing else. Digging up past feelings will only make matters worse, and besides, Malfoy doesn't feel the same way. Does he?

Take You Home by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill) @lqtraintracks

Everybody’s a little fucked up after the war, Draco especially. What starts as hate sex after a night out, eventually turns into something else, something more like comfort. And even though his friends all tell Harry he’s just being used, all Harry’s doing is making sure Draco gets home in one piece. He’s not falling helplessly in love.

Vipera Berus by Justlikewriting

Everything was fine. Draco resided at the Manor, made a decent living selling potions and most of his customers actually kept coming back despite his last name. Hence, Draco was fine. He really was. So what, if he was still waiting.

Title & Possession by Kbrick @kbrick

Harry Potter’s life is going well in the aftermath of the war. Sure, his house is dark and run-down and might hate him (while his house elf definitely hates him). But other than that, things are good. Except, yeah, okay, Hermione and Ron are no longer on speaking terms. Worse, they keep trying to get Harry to pick sides. But otherwise, Harry couldn’t be happier. Well. Except for the fact that Ginny is being super weird about their relationship and never wants to have sex or talk about the future. But other than that, Harry is perfectly fine, thankyouverymuch. At least, he is until Draco Malfoy sues him for ownership of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Then Harry really isn’t fine at all.

( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡ I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I have! Happy reading, y’all! xoxo Carey  (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*💜💙💚💛❤💗💕💖

[tonberry-yoda]

Helpful Human - Ramattra

notes: here it is!! the very anticipated ramattra fic from this poll!!! I really love doing these polls, so expect another one today LMFAOOOOOO. but seriously though, thank you all for your patience. I really like this one. it's based off of a voice line that Rama and Baptiste have together that makes me so soft omg. this is a very fluffy fic that makes me very very happy. and jesus, i love making y/n a little omnic doctor, it makes me smile every time! please enjoy this fic and stay hydrated folks! love you all have a killer day <33333

word count: 1,199

No one looked at you the way he did. He looked at you as though instead of him being the predator, you were. He looked at you as if you could hurt him. As if you hated him. His eyes watched your every move and he even jumped when you would made any short, sudden movements.

You didn't want to hurt Ramattra. Hell, you never once thought about harming an omnic. Even during the war, when you were told you had to fight. All you wished was for a way that Ramattra could trust you. Trust anyone in Overwatch.

He wouldn't let anyone near him except any of the omnics/robots of Overwatch, spending most of his time with Zenyatta and questioning Bastion. If he was in the common rooms of the Overwatch headquarters, his eyes would linger on every human with hatred. He would watch as Bastion and Torbjorn would spend time together and Orisa would make jokes with Hanzo. He watched with what you couldn't tell was sadness, jealousy, anger or a mixture of all three.

He refused your help, even though you were the only one in Overwatch that could repair omnics like a doctor, only letting Zenyatta fix his wounds as best he could. Even though Zen knew what he was doing, it wasn't enough. He begged for you to help Ramattra, but you could only do so much.

"I want Ramattra to trust me," you had told Zen as you were cleaning up your studio. "More than anything. But I also know that he has been through hell and back. I can't force him to like me, let alone trust his lift in my hands."

"I understand my brother," Zen said to you. "But if he wants this terrible burden the world has given to him, he needs to allow humans to help. Especially humans like you." Zenyatta gave your chest a little poke and you smiled.

"I can't convince him to trust me..." You started.

"But I can try." You couldn't see it, but you knew Zen was giving you a warm smile.

After that, you didn't think much of the conversation. There was only so much that the two of you could do. You spent your time doing what you were used to doing, fixing up other robots and omnics alike who have seen more than one should.

Echo would come into your office with a smile and a crack in her arm and tell you stories, which always left you with a smile; Orisa would tell you about her past, and what she sees for her future; and Bastion would beep at you with pleasure, showing you what he had found for Ganymede.

You liked what you had, and if Ramattra wasn't a part of it, that was his choice. And that was the way you thought it was going to be for a while.

Until you heard the door to your studio open, the sound of sparking wires enter.

You smiled and turned around in your spinning chair, nearly gasping at what you found.

Ramattra's giant figure stood in front of you, his entire arm torn off with fiery sparks flying off of him, his artificial breaths uneven.

You jumped out of your seat and pointed to a medical bed large enough to fit him in the corner of the room. You didn't panic or rush, you just did your job.

Without a word, you fixed his arm and cleaned up burn marks and mud dusting his mechanical body. And he watched in silence as you mended his body back together, making it feel good as new.

You looked up at him with a smile and asked him to move his arm. "Better?" You asked, looking into his dark eyes.

He nodded at you, moving his elbow and fingers at the same time, seeing not only that they were fixed, but flowed perfectly, like a river.

"Need anything else done? Anything bothering you?" You documented your work on your computer and turned to Ramattra, who cleared his throat.

"No. Everything seems to be fine." You realized that this was the first time he had ever spoken to you and the first time you had ever heard his voice this close to you. It was deep and comforting with what sounded like gravel behind it.

"Well, I'm sorry that happened to you, but you should be good as new."

After a bit of hesitation, Ramattra sucked in a breath. "Thank you." His voice was soft and he looked down at his hands.

"You're welcome." You thought he would leave after that, but he didn't.

You paused and looked at Ramattra, who's eyes were still not on you. "You don't mind that I did that, right?" You asked, your voice kind and curious. "I know it must bother you that I'm a human and all."

Ramattra chuckled softly and looked up at you. "Well, actually, it's not as bad as I thought it would be. A helpful human is a nice change of pace. I feel," he looked up at the florescent lights in the room. "Better."

You smiled at him, but didn't know what to say.

"You know," Ramattra said, looking back down at his hands. "My brother convinced me to come here several times, but I never listened. He was on my butt about coming her now because there was no way he was going to fix a torn off arm."

You smiled. "Zenyatta's a great healer, but I don't think he knows how to weld back pieces of his own body."

Ramattra laughed at you, the roughness of his voice now soft and light.

"I don't trust him with fire at all to be honest," you said, laughing yourself.

That made Ramattra laugh harder and he looked at you with what seemed like a smile as he tilted his head.

"This took me a while," he admitted, sitting in a chair next to yours. He was a giant next to you. "But I'm really glad I came here. I don't know how often I'll be coming in though. I'm still... getting used to things."

"I understand," you told him, giving him the space he needs. "But if anything like this happens, know that I'm here to help. I promise."

Ramattra hums in approval and grabs your hand, placing what would be his lips to it, almost like he just pressed a kiss to your knuckles. You feel your face heat up as his cold fingers glide over your warm ones. He drops your hand and bows at you.

"I'll be on my way then," he says, getting up and walking to the door. "Thank you... for being so patient with me."

"Of course." You watch him walk out of the room, your voice trailing off.

You knew you were blushing, but how could you not. You hoped he would be back, but buried that thought. You don't want him to be hurt again, dummy. So you just sat and thought about what Ramattra had told you. A helpful human is a nice change of pace. You smiled at the thought. You hoped you could be the one to help.

~~~~~

overwatch masterlist | pinned post @tonberry-yoda

[cxtori]

word count: 5,258

series masterlist

playlist: spotify youtube

tori’s note: umm… I may have gone overboard with this… sorry. But also NOT sorry because I had fun writing it lol. I would also like to apologize in advance for the pain this is going to cause 🫂

“War is no place for a child”. 

You hear those words muttered every so often as you walk by the soldiers in the barracks. 

A battlefield full of violence and evil, blood and injuries. It was no sight for someone so young, someone who barely understood the concept of life and death. But, despite that bit of common sense, the greed of others is what landed you and your older sister here.

You and Akiko had abilities that most would consider beautiful gifts. That to heal the injuries of others without much effort. But your sister would often call it a curse, though you didn’t understand why. 

You didn’t know what was going on, the conflict that was happening just several hundred yards away from your bed. The only thing you were ever told was that there were people who were hurt, and you had to help them. Afterall, how do you explain the complex nature of war to a mere 7 year old? 

Either way, for your young mind, that was all the explanation needed. It made you feel wanted, important, even if it was for evil reasons you couldn’t begin to wrap your head around.

You never saw the worst of it. Akiko requested that you remain in the barracks, where soldiers were capable of coming to you. She didn’t want you to have to see the things she did while in the infirmary. If she could keep you away from it, she would.

Your ability wasn’t as strong as your sister’s. You could heal only “minor” wounds. Severe cuts, fractured bones, such as that. Akiko, however, had the ability to “bring people from the verge of death”. You didn’t quite understand how impressive that was, you just knew that the adults found it very important. Especially Mori.

He was the reason you were here. You thought he was a kind man at first. He made you feel special, the way he had shown interest in you and your sister’s abilities. But then he took you out here where it was dark and cold, lonely and sad.

You’ve noticed that this darkness has begun to rub off on your sister. She used to be so happy and giggly. But now you’re lucky to get a small smile from her. 

Every time a soldier comes to see you, you hope it’s the last one. That you’ll never have to see another injured person again. That you and your sister will be able to go home. But as the months pass and nothing changes, the bright hope you had slowly begins to diminish into a sliver.

These days, you hardly ever see Akiko, her own responsibilities keeping her in the infirmary while you’re left on the other side of the army camp. The only thing that keeps you going is the friendship you’ve started to form with one of the soldiers. 

Shunzen. 

You smiled the first time you heard his name. Shunzen. Spring cicada. You loved cicadas. Their funny, beady eyes, their intricate wings, the beautiful buzzing noise they would make. They reminded you of home, safe and warm. Shunzen made you feel that way too. You thought the name was very fitting.

He always took the time to ask you how you were. The other soldiers didn’t ask that. They just came to see you, get their wounds healed, and up and leave the moment they were able. But Shunzen always stayed, if only for a few minutes. You liked that.

Sometimes, he would let you know that your sister was doing okay, having seen her only a day, sometimes mere hours before you. He did his best to keep the two of you informed on the other, knowing that you didn’t see each other very much anymore. 

Sometimes, during his longer stays, he would tell you about his life back home. About his job and friends and school. It made you feel comforted, hearing about the world outside of these cold metal walls.

“My little brother back home is about your age,” Shunzen says softly. You perk up at this. Little brother? He hasn’t mentioned him before.

“You have a brother?” You ask excitedly. A little brother, just like you’re a little sister! Shunzen laughs and nods.

“I do. He’ll be turning 7 in just a few weeks. He’s got big golden eyes and dark hair. And he’s stubborn. Just. Like. You,” he says, punctuating his last few words with some gentle pokes at your belly, making you laugh. 

“Haha he sounds funny,” you say.

“He is funny,” he says. There’s a look of sadness in his eyes, but it’s only there for a  moment before they light up once more. “When this is all over, I’ll take you home. You can meet him.” 

“Really?!” Shunzen nods, confirming that he meant his words.

“You two would get along great,” he says with a soft smile.

“But, Akiko has to come too, okay?” You add frantically, not wanting to forget your sister.

“Of course. I promise.”

Before you can say another word, your friend is being called for, dragged once more out onto the battlefield. Usually you felt sad when he had to leave, but right now, you feel happy, and a little more hopeful than you did before.

The weeks continue to go by, all blurring together into a meaningless stretch of misery. You’ve noticed that you’ve seen Akiko and Shunzen much less recently. In fact, you haven’t seen many soldiers at all. You once believed that would be a source of relief, but for some reason, it filled you with more dread.

You were happy when you heard that Shunzen was able to go home for a short time. He didn’t miss his little brother’s birthday as he feared he would. But it made you sad that you weren’t able to go with him. But he would reassure you, saying that once the war was over, that you and your sister would both be welcome to visit him. It gave you something to look forward to, to strive for.

You saw Shunzen much less, but he would often stay with you for longer periods of time now, talking about his visit with his family or reading a few poems from his book.

You sat beside him, resting against his arm as he read. He moves away for a moment to remove his jacket in favor of the white t-shirt underneath.

“What’s that around your neck?” You ask, noticing the large, flat piece of metal dangling from a chain and resting against his chest. He picks it up, lifting it over his head and gathering the necklace into his palm. 

“It’s my dog tag,” he says, holding out his hand to show you. You look closer to see his name engraved into it in fine characters. 

“A dog tag… why does it say your name?” You ask innocently. Shunzen pauses. 

“…It’s just a fancy necklace they give the soldiers,” he says, not looking you in the eyes. He flips over the piece, showing you the other side. 

There are several marks scratched into it, but they look different from the other side. They’re shallow and jagged, not as smooth and refined as the other side. You study the lines but you can’t make sense of it.

“Is it a secret code or something?” You ask.

“No,” Shunzen laughs. “See each of the individual lines?” He points to the thin, jagged marks cut into the metal. You nod. “Each of these lines represents a time you and your sister helped me. Every time either of you healed me, I made a scratch.”

Your eyes widen as they trail down the piece of metal. There were dozens of lines. Had you and Akiko really healed him that many times?

“It’s because of you two that I was able to see my little brother again,” he says softly. Your heart twists and you smile brightly. It was because of you that he was able to go home, to see the family that he talked about so much. You look back down at the metal in his hand.

“I want a dog tag,” you mutter quietly, more to yourself than to him. Shunzen looks at you, those words leaving the mouth of a child sending an unpleasant chill down his spine.

He turns from you, reaching for his jacket. He picks it up and wraps his hands around the buttons, the metal clasps melting into his hands, obeying his mental commands. 

You watch in interest as he holds the practically liquified metal in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. His eyes close in concentration and you keep quiet as you watch.

After a short moment, he opens his hand to reveal a dog tag, chain and all, similar to his but much smaller. You beam from ear to ear. He hands it to you, but you’re almost afraid to touch it. Shunzen laughs lightly and takes it between his fingers before carefully placing it over your head, the tag dangling just over your chest.

You look down at it and notice another detail: your initials are printed over the front. You look up at Shunzen who is watching you happily. You throw your arms around him, tackling him in a sweet hug. 

“Thank you,” you whisper.

It’s been almost 3 weeks since you saw Shunzen last. It’s the longest stretch you’ve gone since he’d left to visit his family. And before that, you’re not sure you remember him being gone for so long. 

The number of soldiers you see daily has dwindled. You’ve seen Akiko three times in the past few weeks, and each time she was far too tired to hold any conversation with you, passing out before she even got to say hello.

Everything feels tense. It’s like the air itself was becoming harder to breathe. You had noticed that even Mori, who was usually uncaring and nonchalant, was much more uptight as of late. You wish you understood why. You wish someone would tell you. Just how bad was this war that was keeping you all here? How much longer would you all be expected to suffer?

You lean against your sister’s arm who is sitting beside you on your bed. It’s one of the rare times she’s been given a break. And an even rarer occurrence is that she didn’t fall asleep the moment she sat down. 

You run your fingers over the smooth, golden metal of the hair clip Shunzen made for her. A beautiful, large winged butterfly, reminiscent of those that appeared when she used her ability.

“It’s really pretty,” you say. Akiko hums in agreement before taking it from you gently and clipping it back in her hair. It suited her perfectly, the way the shiny gold contrasted against her dark hair.

“Your necklace is pretty too,” Akiko says, looking to the flat, reflective pendant around your neck. Your hand instinctually raises to your chest, your fingers wrapping gently around the cool metal, and you smile.

You rest your head against your sister’s shoulder once more, your eyes heavy. Things feel calm, almost normal for a moment and you practically forget where you are. Until you hear the startling clang of a door down the hall slamming shut, snapping you back to your dreary reality.

A shuddered sigh leaves Akiko’s lips and her tensed muscles soon relax again. She wraps her arms tightly around you and you hug her back, reveling in the warmth of your sister.

“I’m so tired, Akiko,” you whisper. “I want to go home.”

“I know, I do too,” she says, her hands rubbing your arms encouragingly. “We just have to finish things here. And then we’ll go home. And we’ll visit Shunzen and his family, like he said. It’ll be okay, just a little longer.”

And you believe her. Your eyes flit closed and you feel like you may actually get some good rest. But then the door flies open, revealing Mori behind it, and your moment of peace is quickly replaced by anxiety.

“Akiko, You’re needed in the infirmary,” the older man says coldly. You’ve begun to notice a feeling of unease anytime Mori is around you, like his very presence makes your body revolt.

“But, I just returned from there. Can’t I-“

“We don’t have time for relaxation,” Mori snaps, and the edge in his voice makes you curl closer to your sister. 

You can tell he’s tired. The circles beneath his eyes have only darkened in the previous days, and the kind, friendly smile he frequently wore when you first arrived has slowly disappeared. Honestly, every aspect of his friendliness has vanished. It only added to your further growing fear of him. 

“Our soldiers require a care that only you can provide. Now come along.” He leaves the room without another word, his abruptness leaving no room for argument. 

Akiko’s breath comes out in a heavy shudder, and you feel her shake beneath your hands. She moves to stand, tugging her arm gently away from you.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” She says, doing her best to put on an encouraging smile for you. And with that, she’s gone, leaving you once again alone in the cold, musty barracks. 

You fold your legs to your chest as you wrap your arms around them, pressing your face to your knees.

You miss Akiko. You miss Shunzen. You miss home, even if it was just you and your sister. You just want to leave, leave and never come back.

Little did you know how soon your wish would come true.

It’s been days since you saw Akiko last. Almost 2 months since you saw Shunzen. There were very few soldiers that came by now. You were told that, if they returned to the base, they were sent directly to Akiko. Very rarely now did they have injuries minor enough for you to handle.

You were laying on your bed, eyes squeezed shut as your fingers traced over the dog tag around your neck, trying to block out the loud rumbles and shakes that seem to have gotten louder over the last couple days.

You feel like you’re about to miraculously fall asleep when you hear a loud clang followed by an ear piercing scream. A scream you recognize.

It was Akiko.

You shot straight up in the bed, your heart rate rising. What was that? Was it a dream? The long silence that follows almost convinces you it was in your head. But then you hear several pairs of feet running down the hall. They shouldn’t be down here, not unless they were coming to see you. And the footsteps ran right past your closed door.

You jump for the door, heaving it open. You follow the sound of frantic, muffled voices. Your heart crawls into your throat and your stomach knots. Something isn’t right. Was that Akiko screaming?

Your slow walk shifts into a run as the voices grow louder, anger and fear heavy in the air. You come to a hatch in the floor where several soldiers are standing below. You almost fall down the stairs with how quickly you take them, the rusted hand bar biting into your palm.

You reach the bottom where your sister is sitting on her knees with her head in her hands. Your eyes drift to the dark mass laying crumpled in the floor, a rope swinging from the ceiling above it. The men stand around motionless, their speaking coming to a halt as soon as you enter the room, aside from a few, hushed words. 

“She shouldn’t be here. Neither of them should be.”

“This is so fucked up.”

“This is war, kids shouldn’t be here.”

“Akiko?” You call as you walk to your sister. But she doesn’t respond, doesn’t even give you the slightest hint of acknowledgment. You step closer, the knot in your stomach tightening. You try to keep your eyes on your sister, but your curiosity wins over as your gaze drifts back to the form on the floor. Your heart drops into your stomach.

“Shunzen?” You say, recognizing the face of your friend laying on the floor. 

At this, Akiko’s head snaps over to look at you, her eyes wild. She launches herself at you, pulling your face to her chest in an attempt to block your vision. But it was pointless.

Confusion begins to mix with your fear. Why was Shunzen here? Why wasn’t anyone helping him? You rip away from your sister’s arms, shoving her back harshly as you hop around her. If they weren’t going to help him then you would.

“Shunzen!” You drop to your knees beside him, your hands resting on his back to shake him. But he doesn’t answer. You use your ability, your hands glowing as your power seeps into him, though it changes nothing. Your sister sits beside you, a look you don’t recognize on her face.

“Akiko, help him!” You cry. Akiko shakes her head, the movement barely noticeable. “Please!”

Akiko winces at the crack in your voice, and she lays her hands down beside your own. Bright, glowing butterflies fill the air as she tries to revive him. Unknown to you, she’d already tried several times.

Upon realizing that Shunzen was still not moving, you begin to shake him again.

“Shunzen, wake up! Don’t leave us, please,” you cry pitifully. Akiko pries your hands away before wrapping her arms around you in a nearly suffocating grasp.

“You said you would take us home. You promised!” Akiko’s arms wrap impossibly tighter around you. You eventually give up and turn to her, your tears soaking into the front of her dress.

“He promised.”

The few days following were a blur. All you remember are the tears, the twisted pain in your heart, and the blank, emotionless gaze your sister began to develop.

Mori had grown colder toward you and Akiko. He still smiled often, but it was no longer the warm, friendly grin he wore when you first arrived. It was tight, emotionless, and didn’t do anything to cover the annoyance written all over his face.

He was upset. You knew he was. You and your sister’s productivity had dropped, and as punishment, he did his best to keep you separated. It didn’t have the effect he’d hoped and it only worsened your conditions. 

Akiko continued to do her job, but it was like she was on autopilot. She hardly spoke a word now, to Mori and even you.

You, on the other hand, were struggling.

You were still only capable of healing minor injuries, and they used to bring such soldiers to you, in the barracks. But now, Mori requested that you come to the infirmary. Right where Akiko had previously refused to allow you.

But now she wasn’t mentally strong enough to say no.

You went a few times and you slowly began to understand why Akiko was so adamant about you staying away.

The smell of blood hung thickly in the air and the constant groaning of pain would ring in your ears even hours after leaving the infirmary. Seeing soldiers injured beyond what you could repair was sad and sickening. It gave you feelings you didn’t have words for.

Between Shunzen’s death, not seeing Akiko, and being forced to visit the infirmary, it only took a few days before you shut down.

You had been given only a half-day's break, and you spent the entire time wrapped in your blanket on your bed with your hand grasping your dog tag so tightly it cut into your palm.

The pain in your heart quickly grew into anger and hatred. All of it aimed at Mori. He was the reason you were here. Why you and your sister were suffering.

You hear the metal door squeak open and you don’t have to look to know who it is.

“Y/n, sweetheart, we need you in the infirmary.” 

“I’m not going,” you say, still not bothering to lift your head. Mori steps closer to you, his presence suffocating, “I’m never using my ability again.” 

“You’ll have to eventually.” He spoke with such coldness, not a trace of emotion in his voice. You grit your teeth and turn your head to look at him. His expression falters for half a second, taken aback by the look in your eyes as you stare at him 

“No! I won’t. You’d have to kill me!”

You didn’t truly understand the weight of your words, let alone the fact that you wouldn’t be able to use your ability if they followed through with it. But Mori understood the severity of the meaning behind it. 

You meant what you said, even if you didn’t fully understand it yourself. You were not going to be using your ability anymore. 

Mori saw no use in having you there any longer, seeing you as nothing more than a liability. Another person to feed and keep alive. So you were sent back to the mainland. 

They brought you back, kicking and screaming. You didn’t want to leave Akiko. You couldn’t. The thought of her being there all alone made you cry and you couldn’t believe that they would be so evil to separate you. But you had no choice, there was nothing you could do. 

With your family gone, you were left with no one. You were sent to live with a family chosen by Mori, a connection he had through the mafia, in case you ever changed your mind and wanted to go back to work. 

You hated living there, despite the fact that they were generally nice people. They lived a luxurious life, free of worry or care and it made you sick. You were here being taken care of while your sister was still in the middle of a battlefield, alone and miserable. You didn’t feel like you deserved it. Akiko was the one who worked harder than you. She should be here too.

You soon came to realize that speaking of the war was an unspoken rule. Anytime you would mention someone or something relating to what you’d experienced, you were shut down. Even after the war ended, when things went back to “normal”, you were forbidden from speaking about it. 

Mori would come by occasionally, much to your horror. He still saw use in you, in your abilities. But you always refused. You wouldn’t work for him again, ever. 

You would ask about Akiko every time you saw him. Had she come back? Was she okay? Was she alive? He never answered your questions. You knew it was to torture you in hopes of you agreeing to do what he asked.

It was three years after the war ended when a man you didn’t recognize showed up at the door. Your “parents” had been hesitant to let him in, wondering what the repercussions of doing so would be. 

You weren’t going to get involved in the hushed conversation they were having. But then you heard him mention Akiko.

Before you knew it, you were skittering to the door, shoving the other two aside to see the man. His hair was silvery-gray, despite his young appearance and he had a soft yet stern expression on his face. The stoicism cracks when his grayish-blue eyes meet with yours, surprise flashing in them.

“You said something about Akiko,” you state, struggling to keep your composure. “Do you know where she is?” The man looks at you before glancing back at the couple standing aprehensivley behind you. You turn to look at them.

“Let me talk to him,” you request, though your tone sounds more like that of a demand. They give each other a look before shuffling away quietly, leaving the two of you alone.

You step outside next to the man, shutting the door behind you. You didn’t want them trying to listen in. They always did when Mori came to speak with you.

“My name is Yukichi Fukuzawa. I’m an old friend of Ougai Mori.”

You gasp softly and step away from him. Was this some new tactic Mori was trying? What torturous method to get you to come back with him was he trying now? 

Fukuzawa’s face softens and he takes a couple steps back of his own. 

“I understand your wariness, but I assure you, I’ve not come here to drag you away.”

“Then why are you here?” You ask, your voice snappier than intended, though he doesn't seem to mind.

“I had come here in hopes of finding Mori. I have something important to speak to him about. Do you know anything of his whereabouts?”

“I don’t know. They don’t tell me anything,” you say, your gaze dropping to the ground. The man doesn’t respond but studies you for a thoughtful moment. 

“You’re Y/n Yosano, correct?” You look back up at him and give him a curt nod. He lets out a quiet sigh, lifts his fingers to the bridge of his nose and curses under his breath. “The other child he’d dragged into that warzone.”

“You mentioned my sister. Do you know if… If she’s…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the question, but he understands despite that.

“She’s in a psychiatric facility,” he answers carefully. “She’s been there for a few years, but she’s alive.”

You feel sick and relieved all at once. She’s alive. But she’s been locked up, all alone, for years. For years, and Mori never let you see her once. Never even told you if she ever left that battlefield or not.

Your throat tightens and your face grows hot as you begin to cry. She’s alive.

Fukuzawa doesn’t comment on your tears. He doesn’t give you a look of pity. He doesn’t ask you to stop. He just lets you cry as he continues.

“I have reason to believe that Mori wants your sister back in his care. I plan to prevent that from happening.”

You had only been speaking to this man for a few minutes but you found yourself already trusting him.

He was kind. It wasn’t the type of kindness Mori had shown you when he’d found you and your sister, one rooted in greed and ulterior motives. This was genuine kindness, grown out of experience and concern. You had learned to tell the difference.

And if he was going to help your sister, then you wanted to go with him.

“Take me with you,” you find yourself saying as if your mouth had decided before your mind had. Fukuzawa’s eyebrows raise, but his expression remains otherwise blank. “Please?” 

His eyes drift to the window behind you and you turn to follow his gaze. You just barely catch the man and woman inside leaping away from the window, attempting, and failing, to not be caught in their snooping.

“He’s placed you with a nice family here,” Fukuzawa says. “Are you sure you want to leave?” You hold back an annoyed groan.

“They don’t actually care. They don’t like when I talk about it. They want to just pretend that it never happened.” Fukuzawa’s face droops, not needing you to explain what “it” is. “They only took me in because Mori ordered them to. They’d be relieved to see me gone.”

The man hums and closes his eyes. He’s silent for long enough that you worry he’s about to deny your request. Say you should stay in this home with the family that inhabits it, with the family that has stifled you for years, keeping you under their wing as they wait for the day you finally break and return to work with Mori.

But then Fukuzawa speaks.

“If that is what you desire, then fine. I’m sure your sister will be happy to see you.”

You wait impatiently in the halls of the hospital, waiting for Fukuzawa and Ranpo to return.

They had discovered that Mori indeed planned to retrieve Akiko from the facility. To drag her back into the hell she’d barely escaped from. But none of you were going to allow it.

Fukuzawa instructed you to stay here and wait for him or Ranpo to get you. That was over 30 minutes ago. You pace around anxiously in the room you’d decided to stay in, the chair in the corner having become increasingly more uncomfortable the longer you sat in it.

And then you hear it. Footsteps and the rhythmic squeak of a wheelchair. You walk to the door and stop when you hear your sister’s voice.

“Bring me back,” she mutters, her quiet voice carrying through the empty hall. You step out of the room, immediately finding Ranpo pushing a wheelchair with a girl sitting in it. Akiko.

Her hair was long, much longer than she’d ever preferred to keep it. Her skin was pale, evidence of how long it’s been since she’s seen the sun. She looked… sickly. But what she says next quickly drives away any thought you have on her appearance.

“I only make the lives of those around me less valuable.”

You grit your teeth and walk closer to the pair.

“Am I less valuable then?”

Akiko gasps softly at the sound of your voice. She slowly, hesitantly raises her head, her gaze eventually finding yours.

“Y/n…?”

“I’m here to bring you home,” you say, stepping closer until you’re standing in front of her. “Fukuzawa and Ranpo, they’re nice people. They want to help us.”

Akiko’s eyes drop back to her lap and it’s only then that you realize she hadn’t even smiled when she saw you.

“I can’t,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t be allowed to live.”

You feel something in your heart break as those words leave her lips. What had happened to her? All those times she kept you away from her work, what was going on? What had she seen? What had happened when you left?

You drop in front of her and wrap your arms around her, tears quickly forming and streaming down your face.

“Don’t say that!” You cry. Akiko remains limp in your arms, too weak to hug you back. Possibly too mentally, emotionally broken to even try.

“Please, Akiko. Don’t make me leave you again. I need my sister.” You pull away from her to look her in the eyes and her face twitches with the first sliver of emotion she’s shown since she’s seen you. 

Ranpo comes to stand beside you, telling her the same words he and Fukuzawa had told you. That they don’t need you. That they don’t need your special ability. They just wanted you because you care. Because you don’t view life the way Mori does. That this “Armed Detective Agency” was a place where you could just be. Just exist.

Ranpo concludes his words by placing something into Akiko’s lap. Her golden butterfly hair clip from Shunzen. You both gasp in shock and Akiko picks up the piece carefully as you reach for the dog tag you still keep around your neck.

You try to picture the man, but your time and trauma-worn memories are so distorted and you’re sure that the image you conjure is accurate. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

“We don’t want your special ability. It’s your kindness that means something,” Ranpo says gently. 

Akiko sniffles and as you look into your sister’s eyes, vacant yet so full of pain as they flood with tears, you’re reminded of the words you heard muttered so often.

War is no place for a child.

Taglist: @chuuminn

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate any of my works. reblogs are appreciated 🤍

[usafphantom2]

MAAM P-61 Nose Art – Introducing “Moonbeam Dream”

Moreno Aguiari

After 79 years, the P-61 now has it’s own unique identity. Photo by Nick Chismar

Aircorps Art Dec 2019

By Nick Chismar

Just over a month ago, in June 2024, the Mid-Atlantic Air Museum (MAAM) unveiled a brand-new paint job on their Northrop P-61B Black Widow, USAAF #42-39445. The massive fighter sat proudly, fully covered in gloss black paint, as visitors from around the country stopped to take photos during the museum’s 33rd Annual World War II Weekend. Just recently, during the museum’s members’ day picnic on July 20th, there was another unveiling to do. After 79 years, their P-61 has its own identity and nose art; Moonbeam Deam.

MAAM P 61 Nose Art – Introducing Moonbeam Dream82539 copy scaled

Work was well underway just two weeks before the member’s day event. Tucked inside the main hangar, Hummelstown, Pennsylvania artist Jennifer “Hot Rod Jen” Thomas was steadying her hand against the side of the P-61. Jen’s interest in warbirds began with family ties as both her uncle and grandfather had flown Stearmans and worked alongside her father on the Berlin Airlift Historical Foundation’s C-54 Spirit of Freedom. While Jen is well known for her automotive pinstriping, the P-61 is not her first piece of aviation nose art.

MAAM P 61 Nose Art – Introducing Moonbeam Dream80147 copy scaled

Recently, Jen painted the nose art on the Wings of War’s Cessna T-50 Bobcat, known as Bamboo Betty, which made its this year’s WWII Weekend. Not long after completing the gT-50’s nose art, a photographer suggested she contact MAAM President Russ Strine. It wouldn’t be until this year’s WWII Weekend that she could pass a card along, but it wasn’t long after that she was in contact with Russ, and things kicked off from there.

As Jen would tell me, there are some times when clients may not know exactly what they want, but not in this case. Having nose art on the P-61 has long been something Russ wanted to do. Since the aircraft had crashed only four days into its career, the crew never had the opportunity to properly name their aircraft. So, Russ set out to find something that he felt fit the project. Selecting from a book of Vargas pin-up girls, Russ looked for one that wasn’t too risqué or similar to that on their B-25 Briefing Time. The moon and stars were selected to symbolize how the P-61 fought in the night sky. He then chose the name Moonbeam Baby and added a full-size cutout to the aircraft which many visitors may recall seeing over past years. This name, however, was only intended to be a placeholder for inspiration.

The name Moonbeam Baby never really sat well with Russ, and after some time he decided to change the name to Moonbeam Dream. As he would tell me, “I was never really comfortable with the name ‘baby’, and I thought about it. I thought that the P-61 was a dream of ours, not only in acquiring it but restoring it to flying condition.” With the nose art already selected by Russ, Jen went to work.

MAAM P 61 Nose Art – Introducing Moonbeam Dream82547 copy scaled

With the full-size cut-out at home, Jen began by making tracings of the artwork and letters. Patterns and an electro pounce were made of the letters while the surface was thoroughly cleaned to begin painting. The image of the girl was first hung and then transferred using Saral paper for the outline and to be blocked in white to make it easier for skin tones to be painted. Using urethane and sign painting enamel paints Jen began the process of painting the nose art. Jen would use the Axalta urethane paint for the lettering and to block in the white and yellow on the pinup as well as for the moon. As a more aggressive paint, it bites into the black paint of the fuselage offering a sturdy base. For the rest, Jen would use 1-Shot lettering enamel to complete the nose art on the aircraft. Working from roughly 7:30 AM to 5:00 PM, and with an immense amount of skill and a steady hand, the nose art would slowly go on over the course of three days.

When member’s day came around and the first visitors rounded the tail of the museum’s replica D3A “Val” there was a sense of awe as they spotted the nose art. Comments could be heard about the level of detail and simply how impressive it was. As visitors continued and made their way to the other side of the P-61 they immediately took note of the emblem of the 550th Night Fighter Squadron, painted completely by freehand on the aircraft. Painted to the emblem’s left however were three names. Beneath the cockpit could be seen the name “Annie” in honor of Russ’ late mother, painted in bright red. Below that and in a more subtle blue was the image of the iconic “Kilroy” with the words “Pappy was here. Brenda too.” A tribute to Russ’ late father Eugene and Brenda Saylor, both of whom had spent countless hours to make their shared dream, a reality.

After 79 years, the P-61 now has its own unique identity. For Jen, this would be a special moment. After moving to Allentown years ago, friends soon told her about World War II Weekend. Jen said, “2006 was the first year I came here and I was hooked ever since. …coming here for years and the amount of work that is going into this aircraft is amazing. I’ve seen it when it was just barely anything and I loved the story, and I’m just blown away to be a part of it…it feels like a dream.” As Russ would tell me, “We needed to give the airplane our own identity, and this nose art, I think, accomplishes that.” With the names of the pilot Logan Southfield and radio operator Ben Goldstein who had been onboard during the fateful crash, the nose art is the final piece of the aircraft’s identity.

Special thanks to the Mid-Atlantic Air Museum and Jennifer Thomas for allowing me to photograph the process of painting the nose art. Thank you to Russ Strine and Jennifer for taking the time to talk about their process in this latest part of the restoration.

MAAM P 61 Nose Art – Introducing Moonbeam Dream82554 copy scaled It has been a few years since we last reported on restoration progress with the Mid-Atlantic Air Museum‘s Northrop P-61B Black Widow #42-39445. As most of you will remember, a team from the museum recovered the aircraft from the side of Mount Cyclops in Hollandia, New Guinea during the late 1980s. They have made great strides in their effort to rebuild the WWII night fighter to airworthy condition, and we thought you would like to hear (and see) some of the work that has been going on with the Widow of late. Below are our two latest report.

Author ProfileRelated Posts

Moreno-Aguiari

Born in Milan, Italy, Moreno moved to the U.S. in 1999 to pursue a career as a commercial pilot. His aviation passion began early, inspired by his uncle, an F-104 Starfighter Crew Chief, and his father, a military traffic controller. Childhood adventures included camping outside military bases and watching planes at Aeroporto Linate. In 1999, he relocated to Atlanta, Georgia, to obtain his commercial pilot license, a move that became permanent. With 24 years in the U.S., he now flies full-time for a Part 91 business aviation company in Atlanta. He is actively involved with the Commemorative Air Force, the D-Day Squadron, and other aviation organizations. He enjoys life with his supportive wife and three wonderful children.

@Warbirdnews via X

[dwonfilm]

“Come hell or high water.” | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Looming over the Winchesters and [Y/N] is the war between heaven and hell. Dean will ultimately be faced with a choice he’d never be able to make. What will happen?

This will be a multi-part story, not necessarily set in a specific season but around 4-5 would be the best fit.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Mentions: Sam Winchester, Castiel, Micheal and Lucifer, Bobby Singer

Warnings: none, will provide for each chapter as they’re written.

Part I:

Michael and Lucifer had both been impatient, each showing up at various times and places—both wanting the same thing; more or less. Each wanted their designated Winchester brother to simply say yes.

Three days earlier.

Sam, Dean and [Y/N] were sat in their shared motel room in New Orleans, Louisiana. Sam was on his laptop, browsing for cases on different news websites. [Y/N] was flipping through the local newspaper to see if anything stuck out in the reports there, but she wasn’t having much luck. Dean was.. well, in true Dean fashion he was chowing down on a burger that he’d brought back from the local diner. “Your food is gonna get cold, or I’m gonna eat it, the entire world isn’t gonna fall apart if you two take a damn break.” Dean spoke, mouth half full of chewed food. Sam sighed and looked over to [Y/N] who finally closed the newspaper. “Fine, you’re right.” He spoke up, closing the laptop that had been in front of him for at least two hours. Turning his attention towards [Y/N] Dean would clear his throat (after having swallowed the mouthful of food) and gently squeezed her shoulder. “C’mon sweetheart you haven’t eaten today.” She’d sigh knowing her boyfriend was right, placing her hand on top of Dean’s and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Alright, alright. This goddamn newsprint is giving me a headache anyway.” [Y/N] folded the newspaper back up and tossed it onto the table. Grabbing the brown paper bag, she pulled out what would be Sam’s usual and handed it over to the younger brother. She pulled out her own food and carefully unwrapped the burger, quickly picking it up and taking a big bite. Now that everyone was a little more focused on the food, Dean would continue to eat himself.

“I dunno man, everything I’ve seen has been completely normal. It’s like all the evil in the world has gone radio silent.” Taking a bite of his burger, the younger of the Winchester brother was clearly frustrated. “That’s what scares me, when things tend to be normal on the crime side.. it’s never a good sign.” [Y/N] replied, tucking a loose strand of [Y/H/C] hair behind her right ear. “There’s gotta be something, I’m sure we’ll find it but there’s no use finding anything if we aren’t fit to do the job.” Dean spoke up again, verbally nudging the two most important people in his life to continue eating. “All the sons of bitches can’t have just ran into hiding.“ He’d conclude, grabbing the bottle of beer he’d set aside and taking a swig. “It’s just weird, Dean. Normally it doesn’t take us so long to find something to at least check out. There’s nothing online at all that’s raising even a little suspicion.” Sam answered, looking extremely concerned when he locked eyes with his brother. Dean’s eyes were sympathetic and truthfully—he was worried too. Everything both Sam and [Y/N] were saying was true but he also couldn’t afford to let them see any hint of the fear his heart carried. Not only because it made things more real but he was too busy anchoring them, keeping them from spiralling because then they’d be no good to anyone once evil rears its ugly head. [Y/N] finished chewing another bite of food before adding another thought. “I haven’t seen anything local either I mean, that was the third paper I’ve scoured from front to back and everything just seems.. normal. It’s weird.” It took the chiming in of the eldest Winchester to calm the noise of the impending chaos again. “Hey, look, we’ll just take a break and see if anything comes down the pipeline. Right now I need you two to eat before I start force feeding you.” Sam and [Y/N] both looked at each other before chuckling softly and for the first time in the last couple of hours, the stress of it all faded away. Dean was the first to finish his food (no surprise there) and so he silently asked to use Sam’s laptop, the younger brother nodding as he continued to eat. [Y/N] had finished her food, not realizing how hungry she’d actually been. Of course Dean knew because he knew her like the back of his hand, which was why he’d been pushing her especially to eat since he brought it back to the room. She smiled to herself for a moment as her gaze moved to where Dean sat, scrolling on the computer. Those strikingly beautiful green eyes scanning the screen to see if he could find anything to ease the worries of the trio. Sam was of course the final person to finish his food and when he had, [Y/N] began to grab the garbage that had become scattered across the small table in their room. She stuffed everything back into the brown paper bag it came in before throwing it into the trash can. Rubbing at his temples, Sam slowly pushed himself up from his seat. “I’m gonna shower. Let me know if you guys find anything yeah?” He spoke, walking over to his bed and grabbing the go bag with his clothes in it. He saunters towards the bathroom and closes the door, both [Y/N] and Dean heard the door lock. Dean’s eyes moved to look up at his girlfriend with an expression that seemed exhausted. Noticing this, [Y/N] approached the table again, this time taking the chair closest to her green eyed baby. Leaning her head onto his shoulder, he managed a half smile with his gaze moving from the laptop screen to his beautiful lady. Her [Y/H/C] locks framing her face perfectly, not to mention her [Y/E/C] eyes that always brought his soul some peace. Everything about their world was utter chaos with something even worse looming overhead, yet just by looking into her eyes he’d find a calm like he’d never known.

[Y/N] had met the Winchesters as a child, her father one of the many hunters that John had worked with in the hunt for the yellow eyed demon. Unfortunately her father met a cruel fate at the hands of a shifter and that left her alone in the world. Naturally, via the connection, Bobby Singer would end up taking [Y/N] into his home and that’s where she’d spend time with Sam and Dean. Years on end would see them meeting a handful of times and enjoying various activities and days with Bobby while John hunted. Of course when John and Bobby had their big blow up fight, [Y/N] went a while without hearing from the brothers. Dean had gotten in touch a couple years later and kept in touch through texts mostly, which was surprising but [Y/N] wasn’t complaining. Sam would email every once and awhile but it was very sporadic. Which [Y/N] learned years later was because Sam had left hunting and gone to Stanford—basically ignoring the hunting life and everything supernatural. It was actually during this time where Dean and [Y/N] would begin doing hunts together. Off and on of course, sometimes very rarely with John but usually just the two of them. Often times these cases required them to, as they called it, ‘bend the truth’. This involved posing as different forms of authority to gain access to information that they normally wouldn’t have. Many times, both Dean and [Y/N] had to pose as a young couple in love. Newlyweds or happily engaged—various forms of in love, gaining them favor amongst the community or with other authority figures. This went on for months, both seemingly having feelings show themselves but it went undiscussed. Dean wasn’t about flirting with women to get further on a case, which of course [Y/N] hated but she could never really say that. It caused a little tension at times until finally it came to a head on a hunt for witch.

“Dean, will you just stop and listen to me?!” [Y/N] yelled as she followed the man into their shared motel room. Dean remained silent, anger written across his features. [Y/N] huffed out a breath of frustration and ran her hand through her [Y/H/C] hair and looking toward the eldest Winchester boy. “Dean.” She tried speaking again, yet he still ignored her and aggressively unzipped his go bag. Sifting through its contents he was looking for something, growing more irritated when he couldn’t find it. “What are you looking for?” [Y/N] asked, there was more silence for a second before he finally spoke. “Credit card.” Straight to the point and with a tone that had [Y/N]’s eyes rolling. “You told me to put it in my bag because your wallet needed to get fixed.” She replied, dipping her hand into her bag she’d pull her wallet out and slipping the card into her hand. She’d slowly walk over to Dean and tossed the card onto the bed. This time it was his turn to sigh before turning towards [Y/N]. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I lost my temper, what you do is none of my business.” He said, which seemed genuine for the most part. “I just am lost, I don’t react like that when you flirt with a girl to get information or a bump in the line to meet with someone.” She spoke, though she mumbled under her breath. “Even though I want to..” Dean heard her and felt a sense of confusion wash over him. “Why would you.. [Y/N] why would you want to get mad over that?” Dean’s eyes had found themselves locked onto [Y/N]’s, waiting for her to answer. Throwing her hands up in frustration [Y/N] shouted. “For the exact same reason that you got mad today and punched the receptionist in the face, Dean! You and I obviously have feelings for one another but we don’t talk about them so we just circle the never ending drain of getting jealous and sad and mad in secret and letting it build up!” Immediately after the words had left her mouth she gasped and covered it with her hands. Dean was just as shocked as [Y/N] seemed to be, frozen just staring in her eyes. Moments later after pure silence, Dean turned around and drug his hand across his face. “Dean..” [Y/N] spoke, her tone much softer than it was moments ago. She took a step forward and slowly placed a hand on his shoulder, lightly gripping it. Dean turned with a quickness and crashed his lips against [Y/N]’s while his hand came up to cup her face. Naturally she was stunned, but began to kiss him back.

Ever since that day, due to some kind of truth hex, Dean and [Y/N] had been inseparable. It was the one good thing in Dean’s eyes that came from dealing with a witch. Moving his finger along the touchpad of the laptop, he’d close the website he was on and look up another. There had to be something somewhere.. there just had to be. “Should I get back on the papers?” [Y/N]’s voice broke the longstanding silence that had hovered over them. Dean pulled another half smile before turning and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “No sweetheart, it’s alright. I don’t think there’s anything in ‘em. You’d have found something by now if there was.” His gaze again fixated on the computer, scrolling through masses of crimes being reported. He was about to scroll again, but something caught his eye and he needed to reread the blurb. “Wait a minute..” he spoke in a soft tone, causing [Y/N] to sit up. “Did you find something?” She asked, looking at the screen now too. “Not sure, maybe.” He replied, clicking a link that brought up a fuller article. “Well I’ll be damned.. this one might be vamps. Animal attacks, puncture marks on the necks.. hell there’s nothing else remotely sticking out so I think it’s worth the drive.” Dean added, the lock on the bathroom door clicking open and soon enough the younger Winchester came back into the main room. Steam came flowing from the bathroom as Sam continued to dry his hair. “Hey Sammy, think we got something.” [Y/N] spoke with a soft tone and there was a look of relief on his face. “Wha.. where?” Sam asked, looking at his brother. “Tucson.” Dean answered, turning the laptop around so that his younger brother could look at the article himself. Now [Y/N] was the one pushing herself from her seat. “Hopefully you didn’t use all the shampoo and the hot water.” She joked, making her way to the bathroom in order to shower.

After everyone had showered and changed into their pyjamas, the trio had settled down for the evening. It didn’t take long for quiet snores to be heard from Sam’s bed, his back turned towards the couple who were sharing the other bed. “I’m glad we found a case, but I still don’t have a good feeling about this..” [Y/N] spoke, keeping her tone on the quieter side as to not wake up the younger Winchester. She was snuggled into Dean’s side with her arm draped across his lower abdomen and her head on his chest. Dean pressed a kiss to her temple before sighing in a low manner himself. “I don’t either, it’s bugging me but we can’t just ignore the situation on feelings.” He spoke, his own tone mirroring hers in keeping on that quieter side and both sighed. “It just feels like this case fell into our laps and it feels like it’s a trap, but I can’t pinpoint from who or why.” She aimlessly began drawing shapes on the end of Dean’s T-shirt and he could see that his off feeling wasn’t as strong as the one that [Y/N] was having—she only drew shapes in that manner to calm her mind down. “Hey [Y/N/N], something’s really bugging you about this.. what is it?” He asked, gently turning her chin upward so [Y/N] would meet his gaze. [Y/E/C] hues met the beautiful green eyes that Dean had, searching them for something. “I wish I knew. Dean, it just feels.. too easy. There was nothing for what? Two days? Now all of a sudden there’s one solitary case and we’re supposed to believe this isn’t a set up? It’s not making sense. I know we can’t just ignore a possible case, but it just feels like something is going on and nothing good.” [Y/N] sighed again, knowing that so many things were up in the air right now and so many things couldn’t be resolved in quick manner. “Maybe we’ll pray to Cas tomorrow, either before we leave or while we’re driving. See if he knows anything.” Dean offered, squeezing [Y/N] and bringing her closer to his body. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.” She replied, snuggling into her boyfriend and slowly closing her eyes. Dean himself would adjust the covers and slowly close his eyes. “Goodnight, D.” [Y/N] whispered. “Goodnight, [Y/N/N].” He whispered back.

[stuckysimp]

Fate of the Damned

Summary: Bucky gets the letter that he's been drafted and Steve finds out

TW: War, mentions of death, conscription

Word Count: 1115

Co-author: @ivyace

Bucky knew he was probably a coward, he was sure he’d be called as much. It had been at least a few months since the United States had gotten involved in the war against Germany, and Bucky felt like he was the only guy in New York not rushing to get himself thrown into the trenches across the sea. The first world war - the ‘Great War’ they’d called it - had ended the year after he was born, but Bucky had lived through the after effects of it. He’d heard the stories from the older men who’d survived. Their paranoia, the horrors they’d warned about. He wasn’t brave, not really. He’d just kept his head down, working down at the docks, and doing his best to scrape enough coin up to be able to bring food home.

It didn’t help that Steve had already applied a good three times to try and enlist. They wouldn’t take him, saying he wasn’t fit for service. You didn’t need a brain to know that, god just looking at the guy you could tell. But that didn’t stop his stubborn ass. Bucky fucking wish it would. He knew Steve was out there, trying again. His friend had been rambling about it the night before, determined to help fight for what was right.

Fuck!

Bucky went back to his apartment building after a long day’s work, his aching body begging for rest. He did a quick check of his mailbox at the bottom of the stairs and his stomach dropped when he saw what was waiting for him. No. God-

Shoving the letter quickly into his pocket before anyone could see, Bucky made his way up the steps, taking two at a time. He wanted to get back to the apartment before Steve did, but as he made his way inside, he could see that he was already inside. He made sure to close the door behind him, clearing his throat as he studied him, relieved to see the evident disappointment on his face.

“You know, it’s illegal to lie on your enlistment form.” Of course Steve knew, but Bucky was a little over this. “You’re lucky you haven’t been caught yet.”

Steve glared up at him. “Shut up.”

“They’ll lock you up if they find out.” Bucky let his bag fall to the floor, making his way over to the couch where Steve was seated. “What then?”

“Then I’ll be in Germany, so good fucking luck to ‘em.” Steve shrugged, watching as Bucky sat down.

Panic flared in Bucky’s chest at the thought of Steve going over there, actually being accepted. “You won’t last out there, Steve. You know that, you’re at risk due to your asthma alone. You’d choke on the dust in the trenches!”

“Then I die defending my country!” Steve argued. “I die fighting fascist assholes.”

They’d had this argument before, too many times. Bucky didn’t want Steve to go, he wanted him to be safe here at home. But Steve was adamant. He would sooner get shot on the front lines than alone in some hospital bed. Bucky didn’t really blame him, even as it made his heart ache.

“You can actually stay. You’d be so much better off here, there are so many other jobs.” Bucky tried to reason, even though he knew his arguing was futile.

Receiving that letter, it only made his panic worse. He wouldn’t be able to protect Steve, keep him here, his friend would just be more desperate to follow. He knew that.

“No! I’m not!” Steve shook his head. “You don’t get it! You don’t get what it’s like for everyone to look at you and see someone useless! Someone worthless! Even you look at me and see someone weak!”

Bucky's expression fell and he shifted closer, heart sinking. "Hey, that ain't true. You're not worthless okay? Or weak. You just... Aren't made for war."

“Yes I am.” Steve got off the couch, stepping back. “That’s my choice. No one else's.”

“They’re not gonna take you.” Bucky didn’t move from where he was, even as he kept his eyes on Steve. “You’ve already tried, what, four times now?”

Bucky could see the frustration rise up in Steve as his friend threw his hands into the air. “Then I’ll try five times! Six times! A hundred! I don’t care how many times it takes!” Steve retorted, hands balling into white-knuckled fists. He seemed to pause, looking up at Bucky. “I have to do this.”

“No, you don’t.” Bucky leaned back against the couch, feeling a bit like a broken record. “You don’t.”

Steve shook his head, anger seeming to flare up in him once again. “No! You don’t get to dictate what my life is gonna be, Buck! This is my life. I have to live it how I wanna. How I have to. I was made for more than just staying home in cotton wool like the damn housewife you seem to want me to be!”

“I just-” Fuck. “I don’t wanna have to be out on that damn battlefield and find your corpse somewhere,” Bucky looked up at Steve with a pain filled expression. “I’m already worried I’m gonna find ya dead on some sidewalk somewhere Steve, and this is so much bigger.”

He realised his mistake too late. The world stilled, Steve watching Bucky with wide eyes as the fight drained from him, body slumping.

“I thought you weren’t enlisting.”

Shit- Shit! Bucky cleared his throat and forced his expression to remain neutral, shrugging it off like it was no big deal, because it couldn’t be. Not when Steve was trying so hard to fight. Not when so many men were gone already.

“I wasn’t, uh, I’m not.” Bucky grimaced, tearing his gaze away from his friend. “The letter came today.”

He saw Steve pale out of the corner of his eyes and had to force himself to remain composed. Be strong. He could do that, he had to do that. For Steve. No matter what, he couldn’t be scared. Not now. Not even when his veins were filled with ice and he felt all hope of a future disappear. Just from one damn piece of paper.

“No.” Horror filled Steve’s voice, staring at Bucky with wide eyes. “I-” He seemed to come to a decision, and it wasn’t a surprise, the next words that left Steve’s mouth. “I’ll come with you, I swear. I ain’t leaving you out there on your own.”

Bucky shook his head, his expression softening a little. He knew he didn’t have much time now, these last moments with Steve were precious. He had to make them count.

“I know.”

[atlasscrumpit]

It may be kinda wierd. Yandere stuckony.

The reader is a uni student. And they're her guardian angels who fit into the society by being her professors. They fall in love with her even though they aren't allowed to fall in love with human.

And the reader doesn't understand why they keep looking at her. She's even more surprised when she notices that they appear everytime she's in trouble.

(not really Yandere but still)

Bucky/Tony/Steve platonic x reader

Bucky sat at his desk while Tony paced up and down his office.

"Look I'm thankful and all but after I died I thought I'd have like...heaven and peace and all that nice shit. Now I just have to spend my days as a goddamn professor to protect a girl?" Tony grumbled as Bucky took his glasses off and rubbed his face.

"You should be thankful, being a guardian is one of the highest jobs. They don't choose just anyone." Bucky replied making Tony roll his eyes.

"Can I at least get drunk?" Tony asked, Bucky stopped and groaned.

"No, you cannot. You have a duty and you'll complete that duty." Bucky replied before Tony walked out mumbling under his breath.

He passed Steve while he entered Bucky's office.

"Trouble with the new kid?" Steve asked sitting accross from him.

"I still have no idea why they chose him." Bucky grumbled staring at the work in front of him.

"Well, they obviously saw something in him, how's Y/N going lately?" Steve asked as Bucky looked up from his work.

"She's started dating someone and her grades are going down, he seems like a piece of shit too. I know we're not supposed to interfere but I have a bad feeling about this guy, just keep an eye on her, okay?" Bucky warned as a Steve nodded.

"Got it, chief." Steve replied before leaving.

Bucky didn't love being the team leader, but he'd been a guardian longer than Steve or Tony.

Bucky died in war and Steve only a few years later.

But, Tony had only been doing this for less than a year.

Steve was about to leave when he felt an odd sensation.

"Did you feel that?" Steve muttered, turning around to see Bucky already standing up.

"It's Y/N." Bucky said as him and Steve rushed out.

Tony wasn't fair behind them shouting about something.

They got to your dorm room and heard you crying and screaming for help.

Bucky kicked the door down while Steve ran in, he saw your boyfriend pinning you down as you cried out.

He instantly grabbed him and threw him to the floor.

"Get the fuck off her!" Steve shouted as Bucky forced him out of the door.

You scrambled to get your pants back on as you cried softly.

Steve knelt beside your bed.

"Hey, it's okay. It's alright, Y/N." Steve said as he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around you.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry." You whispered as Bucky came over and handed you some water.

"What are you all doing here?" You asked, your eyes still wide.

"We were passing by and heard you call for help." Steve explained as you nodded a little.

"Did he manage to..." Steve muttered as you shook your head.

"No, you got here just in time." You whispered as Steve nodded.

"W-Will you help me report him?" You whispered, looking at Steve as he offered you a soft smile.

"Of course, Y/N." 

--

After Steve, Bucky and Tony had called your best friend they left your dorm, knowing you would be safe.

But, they were definitely going straight to the head office to report the man that had tried to hurt you.

"I don't get why she needs two guardians like you two and also me. I mean, just one of you could've stop what just happened." Tony said making Bucky groan a little.

"Don't question things so much." Bucky grumbled making Tony roll his eyes once more.

"Or what? I'll become a demon or some shit?" Tony grumbled, Steve decided to just say out of it for the moment.

"Demons aren't real, Tony. Humans created them as an excuse to do bad things." Bucky said, Tony slowly realising a lot more about the world he lived and died in.

--

It had been a few months since the incident and thankfully your ex had been kicked out of university.

But, there was something about your favourite professors... They seemed too know a lot about you that professors shouldn't.

Bucky was working in his office like usual when Tony burst through the door.

"Have you ever heard of knocking, Tony?" Bucky grumbled, not even looking up from his work.

"Can we have sex?" He asked as Bucky looked up.

"You're not my type." He grumbled making Tony roll his eyes.

"Not you and I! I just mean...whatever we are. Is it okay to have sex?" Tony asked with a hopeful smile.

"As long as it doesn't interfere with your job, yes you can indulge in those pleasures." Bucky replied before Tony rushed off again.

Not long after Tony had left, Steve entered Bucky's office.

"I feel like Y/N might be on to us or something... I don't know, she seems different around us lately." Steve muttered as he sat across from Bucky.

"She has been a bit off lately, I'll pull her aside after class tomorrow and talk to her. She has been avoiding us." Bucky muttered looking at Steve.

--

You packed up your bag as quick as you could, ready to rush back to your door before you were stopped.

"Y/N, can I see you for a moment?" The professor asked as you sighed and rolled your eyes, so close.

You walked up to him and smiled.

"Everything okay?" You asked, he returned your smile.

"You just seem a little off lately, I wanted to make sure you were okay." He said as you looked at him in confusion.

"You never care if the other students are a bit off." You grumbled as he chuckled softly.

"Maybe not, but you have a lot of potential and I don't want to see you fail." He said as you crossed your arms.

"What is it with you, Rogers and that new teacher? You guys never stop staring at me, are you attracted to me or something?" You asked, Bucky was surprised you were so upfront about it.

"No, Y/N." He said as you narrowed your eyes.

"So, what is it then?" You asked, he could see you were getting quite paranoid.

Bucky sighed and sat down.

"Have a seat, Y/N." He said as you reluctantly sat down.

"It's complicated, Y/N... We're here to protect you, you don't ever need to be afraid of us." Bucky whispered, only confusing you even more.

"Just fucking tell me what's happening!" You shouted making Bucky groan with annoyance.

"No, I know how to test it." You grumbled grabbing scissors off his desk.

"Anytime I'm in danger all three of you somehow know!" You said as you grabbed the scissors and cut down your arm.

"Y/N! Enough!" Bucky yelled as he stood up and pulled the scissors away from you.

Steve and Tony came running into the room and you looked at Bucky.

"The truth, now." You growled as he sighed and looked at Steve and Tony.

"She may as well know." Bucky said, the two men looking at him in shock.

Bucky was always a stickler for rules.

"She's driving herself mad with this, the only way to help is telling her the truth." Bucky continued as the two men nodded.

"Then tell me!" You shouted, Bucky groaned and waved his hand over the cut on your arm and healed it.

You looked at it in shock and then back up to him.

"Y/N, we are guardians. That's the best way to describe it. We're here to protect you, we don't know why there's three of us but...what we do know is that for some reason you need us." He said as you looked away and took in a deep breath.

"This is a lot to take in... But, I also read a lot of comics and kind of prepared for this... Okay, I'm good." You said as Tony looked at you in shock.

"Did you just talk yourself through this whole thing in like ten seconds?" He asked as you nodded.

"Yeah, is that weird?"

[specialagentlokitty]

Patrick Jane x reader - similar

May I request a Patrick Jane x Holmes Reader (I just recently started watching The Mentalist and I'm obsessed) where the reader is Sherlock's sibling and just as observant as him, maybe the reader and Jane meet on a case or something? - @elemental-of-magic💜

You didn’t particularly like want to go to America, but you Mycroft needed to send someone over to help and out of you and Sherlock he decided you were the best fit.

So here you stood at the crime scene, arms crossed over your chest as you just looked around.

“Excuse me, are you supposed to be here?” A man asked.

You flicked your gaze to him, looking him up and down.

“I can ask you the same thing Patrick Jane, you’re not part of the CBI, you’re not a agent or a detective for that matter.”

He rose a brow at you.

“And you’re not part of the CBI either, but you are a detective.”

You smirked a little, reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a badge cover and tossed it over to him.

“Government agent.” You said.

“But going to be a senior agent aren’t you?”

He walked over and handed you the badge back.

“It’s not about age, it’s about efficiency.”

He nodded his head and looked at you.

“So, what’re you doing so far from home?”

“You’re criminal is actually my criminal, and I know exactly how to find him.”

“Then you better act fast because we’ve just found another body.”

You turned around to look at a woman and you were quickly introduced to them all.

It only took you a few hours to locate your criminal, and he was arrested, and you looked at your phone.

Mycroft: good job. Come home in a few days.

You didn’t bother to reply, you just set it back on the desk and you looked around in boredom.

You grew tired of just banging about the office, so you made you way to their kitchen to make some tea.

“I know you’re behind me.”

“How?”

“You’re not exactly quiet walking.”

“Observant.” Patrick said.

You turned around, setting your cup on the table you sat down and he sat opposite you.

“So, if you’re so observant tell me about me.”

You scanned him up and down, and you began to list everything about him, only leaving out the part about his reason for being with the CBI.

He nodded along.

“You left things out.” He said.

“I assume they would be rather sensitive topics for you.”

“Thank you.”

You gave a nod and sipped your tea.

“You know, revenge won’t do you any good, it won’t give you closure or heal the pain you feel.”

“How’d you know I just didn’t want him arrested.”

“After what he did you’d want more than him to be thrown in prison. But let me tell you, it isn’t worth it. Let him rot away for the rest of his life, sitting with the knowledge that when you find him and arrest him, he has to know he’ll never see the outside world again.”

Patrick nodded his head a little.

“Do you have to leave soon?”

“Not unless my brothers need me.”

“Perhaps you can help me track down Red John?”

You leant back in your chair.

“It is not my war to fight.”

“I understand, I just thought you could offer some insight is all.”

You looked at him.

“I will help you either way, but I will do nothing more than review any evidence you already have. This is not my fight Patrick Jane, it is yours and yours alone, but I will offer you support.”

“Can I ask why?”

You took a small breath.

“I understand the pain of loosing someone you love. I believed my brother was dead for two years, and nothing could heal that pain.”

“He’s not dead?”

“No the bastard faked his death with the help of our older brother. Currently I’m not on talking terms with either of them.”

“I understand why not.”

You looked away and turned back to him after a moment.

“I haven’t introduced myself yet.”

“(Y/N) Holmes, I put it together based on the initials on your badge.” He smiled

[dreamcubed]

london boy | fred weasley x reader

song; london boy [taylor swift] pairing; fred weasley x fem!american!thunderbird!reader genre; s2l, fluff word count; 3,1k timeline; post-second wizarding war au (fred lives) warnings; swearing, alcohol consumption summary; after taking the plunge and moving across the world, you are unsure of how to form a new social circle and support system. it appears there was no need to worry, as you soon meet a charming man who runs a joke shop with his twin brother

a/n; this was actually suggested by an anon! sorry it took a couple months to write

masterlist

"babe, don't threaten me with a good time."

———————————————

The Second Wizarding War, while primarily occurring in battles throughout the United Kingdom, was something that had put the global wizarding world at stake. The United States were no exception, and as a recent graduate of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you decided to wander across the pond to the country where the liberty of witches and wizards was saved. That, and you had no other plans for the course of your life.

You worked for the first year after your graduation in order to save up money for the move, but you were pleased to say you had finally stepped foot in England: specifically, Diagon Alley.

It was where you had managed to rent a small flat from, as arranged thanks to your mother having connections in the area as a result of her travels back in the day. You were beyond excited to meet new people and settle into a new life.

But you did need a job.

Your savings would suffice for a few months, which would hopefully give you sufficient time to secure an income - key word, hopefully. First on the agenda, however, was exploring your new local area to see if you could make new friends early doors.

And so you found yourself stood outside a completely buzzing joke shop, after visiting the local bakery and book shop. The name of shop was written in gold: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Chadwick, that was a tongue twister - fitting, you supposed.

You pushed open the door to be greeted by both the bell tinkling above you and the sound of laughing children (and even adults) in all corners of the establishment. A smile pulled its way on to your face as you began walking towards the nearest display table, covered in enchanted prank items. You picked up what appeared to be a normal whoopie cushion, and began examining it.

"Looks normal, but is in fact quite the opposite," a British voice in your left ear caught you off guard, making you quickly turn to be greeted by a tall ginger-haired man, "First of all, it camouflages once it's set down, so anyone who's smart enough to check their seats before sitting down can't catch you out."

You stared blankly at the man.

"Second, it doesn't just make a fart sound, it produces the whole package," he grinned, "A hyper realistic fart smell - and even a greenish smoke if the person sits down with a lot of force."

You came to your senses and smiled, putting the cushion delicately back down. "I'm guessing you're Weasley?"

"One of them," he nodded, "There's two others - one of them fresh out of Hogwarts."

You hummed.

"And I was gonna ask why I don't recognise you from school, but I think your accent gives me the answer."

"Yep, I'm an Ilvermorny grad."

"First time in Britain?"

You nodded, "So far, I love it."

He grimaced, "Depends where you go, Diagon Alley gives you an idealistic impression. How long you here for?"

"Indefinitely."

"Oh?" he quirked an eyebrow, "You're living here?"

"As of today," you smiled, "Y/N. Y/N L/N."

"Fred Weasley," he replied, "Allow me to be your first friend in this foreign country."

You giggled at his feigned poshness.

"What are your plans for work?" he asked, beginning to walk away. Instinctively, you began following him.

You shrugged, "I don't know. Haven't thought that far ahead."

"Oh?"

"I have some money saved while I settle in and find a job."

"That's good," he nodded.

"Have you always wanted to run a joke shop?" you asked.

"Oh, yeah. Always," he said with a smile, "Me and my twin brother, George, have loved pranks since we were kids."

You raised an eyebrow, "Twin?"

"Identical - well, used to be. He has a missing ear now so no one ever mixes us up anymore. Sad, really."

You didn't have to ask how he lost the ear.

"Our younger brother, Ron, decided to join us too. Although I don't think it's a childhood dream of his."

"How many siblings do you have?"

"Six."

Your eyes widened, "Six?"

"Five brothers, one sister."

"Your poor sister."

"Well, she's not doing too bad for herself. She's just starting her quidditch career and she's dating none other than Harry Potter so," he shrugged.

"You know Harry Potter?"

He laughed, "Well, I went to school with him, so yeah. Although I suppose I am a bit closer than normal as Ron's his best mate and my sister's dating him. He actually helped fund the start of this very establishment."

"That's cool."

Fred beamed at you, "Wanna grab a coffee after my shift?"

***

"So, yeah, that's how I ended up losing my virginity to a no-maj," you finished off, sipping on your piccolo, "Poor guy doesn't know he lost his to a witch."

"How do you know it was his first time?" Fred chuckled, sat opposite you, having been intently listening to the story.

"Because he started crying afterwards saying how God was never gonna forgive him for not saving himself for marriage," you said through stifled laughter.

By this point, Fred was practically cackling.

"Honestly, I took it as a compliment. I'm sexy enough to get a guy to suspend his beliefs for a couple hours."

"Not surprised about that," he gave the slightest of smirks to you.

You stopped laughing, suddenly feeling flushed and embarrassed.

"You told a guy you just met how you lost your virginity and only now you get shy?"

You scoffed, "I didn't realise there were rules around when I'm allowed to get shy."

Fred shrugged, "There should be- by that I mean, you should have to do it more. You're cute when you're shy."

You couldn't help your lips from stretching into a grin.

"Oh, shit, is that the time?"

"What?"

"I agreed to meet some of my brothers and friends for drinks at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Oh-"

"Wanna come?" he quickly asked.

You frowned, "I don't wanna intrude."

"Don't be silly, I grew up on a 'the more, the merrier' policy."

"Well, if you're sure- fuck it."

***

"Fred, there you are!" a voice rang out from the bar, where a group of guys were gathered.

"Where you been, mate?" a man identical to Fred (save for a missing ear) said.

"If you'd been at the shop today, you'd know."

George, the name you remembered from Fred's many stories, laughed, "I'm just teasing. Ron told me," he nodded his head towards one of the other ginger men in the group. That was when he turned to look at you. "So, you're the mysterious lady Freddie disappeared off with."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N."

"Ooh, accent!" the man who had initially called out to you both said.

"Alright, alright. Y/N, that's Lee there, this is my twin, George- obviously. Over there is Ron, Wood, and one of my older brothers, Bill."

They all greeted you.

"So, where in America you from?" Bill asked.

***

Some way, some how, many firewhiskeys later you found yourself laughing your ass off with a bunch of guys you had only met a few hours ago. You were drunker than the rest of them, that was for sure, as despite US drinking laws not having stopped you from drinking to drunkenness before, they still meant you had had less opportunity to do so. Thus, your tolerance wasn't good.

At some point during the evening, your group had migrated from the bar to a larger table in the corner, where you sat with Fred's arm around you.

"Oh, come on, Ron, you have to admit it's a little ironic that your girlfriend is on her way to be the next Minister of Magic meanwhile you run a joke shop," George said through wheezes.

Ron's expression suddenly went solemn, "How could you say that to me?"

Everyone went silent for a few moments, until Ron erupted in laughter again with everyone else swiftly following. You found it even funnier that the jokes weren't actually funny anymore: you all were just plastered.

As the laughter died down again, you turned to Fred at your side, "I like your friends."

"Better not like 'em more than me," he said, "I know it's only been a day but I'd like to think I've already called dibs on you."

"Called dibs on me?"

"Yeah, well, dibs on being the first British guy you date."

You grinned, "That's up to you to make it happen, London boy."

"I'm not even from London," he retorted.

"Eh, tomato, tomato."

***

How things ended up well past midnight with you stumbling down Diagon Alley, a red headed man helping support your weight, and an unhealthy amount of alcohol in your system - you didn't know. All you knew is that you had learned so much about the man in the last several hours that you felt very comfortable with him.

"Okay, love, is this your flat?"

"Yeah, that's the one," you slurred, moving towards the stairs that led up the side.

"Woah, hold up there, pretty girl," he said, quickly aiding you so you didn't trip and break your face, "You shoulda told us you were a lightweight. We wouldn'ta ordered you so many."

You grumbled, but didn't say anything in response, instead fumbling around in your pockets for your keys.

"Fred, I can't find them," you whined.

He pulled out his wand, "Alohamora." The door clicked open. "I see you haven't put an anti-unlocking charm on your flat yet."

"I literally just moved in."

"I feel like it's a first priority."

You didn't reply, instead tumbling forward into your new small home. Again, Fred steadied your weight, chuckling to himself in the process.

"You need to get to bed."

After helping you get your shoes off, Fred walked you to your bedroom and watched in amusement as you collapsed on to the mattress.

"You all good from here, sweetheart?"

You hummed softly, "Thank you, Freddie."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, "If you're not too hungover, stop by the shop tomorrow. I can set you up with a job."

"Really?"

"Of course. I have a sneaky feeling you're gonna be in my life for a while."

You giggled, "Me too."

"Alright, I'll see you. Take care."

"You too-" you yawned, "-Freddie."

***

It was mid-afternoon by the time you made it to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, still nursing a hangover but feeling better after a long shower, a painkilling potion and a big glass of a fizzy non-alcoholic drink.

"Oh, good, you're here," Fred opened the door, seeing as the shop was in fact shut. They functioned on weekend days of Monday and Tuesday since Saturday and Sunday were prime business days. (Apart from in the lead up to school starting again, as George explained in detail to you the night prior how they couldn't miss out on any day of the week when Diagon Alley was swarmed with kids.)

"You seem perkier than me," you grumbled, entering the unusually quiet store.

"I didn't get nearly as drunk as you," he reminded, walking towards the back room, "Anyway, I assume you're here for the job?"

You nodded, "That... and to see you."

He gave you a soft smile at that, "You're always welcome."

"You literally met me yesterday."

"What? Were you too drunk to remember what I said last night?"

You suppressed a smile, "No."

"Then you know. Call it divine intuition if you will but you're gonna be around for a while."

"I certainly don't plan on leaving," you replied, following him into the office area.

"Well, let's set you up for a job here then."

"It's really nice of you to do this."

He winked at you, "I don't do favours for free."

"What do you want in return?" you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Another date."

You grinned, "I think I could agree to those terms."

***

Not even a week later, you and Fred were walking down Diagon Alley, ready to go out for lunch for your second date. An hour ago, the sun had been shining brightly in the sky, warming your exposed skin. Now, the shimmery blues had been veiled by a thick layer of dark grey clouds, casting a shadow over the bustling street. You heard Fred, a normally cheerfully optimistic man (as you had quickly learned), let out a sigh.

"Looks like the forecast has taken a turn," just as he finished his sentence, droplets began cascading down from above, growing in intensity by the second.

You couldn't help but giggle slightly.

"Doesn't this bother you?"

You laughed harder, "No. I like it."

Fred smiled at you, "Really? A rainy date?"

You shrugged, "Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Well, okay, then."

He held out his hand to you, and you took it, letting him twirl you around before you both continued walking in the direction of the café he had in mind.

"Your smile is so pretty," he commented after some moments of delicate silence.

You couldn't help but beam at his words, "Really?"

He hummed, "I could look at it for the rest of my life."

In your chest, your heart was performing somersaults like a circus acrobat, and it was making you feel giddy. This was the most alive you had ever felt and you never wanted to let it go.

"Do it then," you replied, "Nothing's stopping you."

He stopped in his tracks, forcing you to halt as well since your hand remained interlocked with his.

"What?" you asked, looking back at him from your position one step forward.

"Can I?" he spoke with a soft gaze, the usual mischievous glint absent.

"Can you what?"

"Look at your smile forever?"

You shrugged limply, "If you can make me smile forever, sure."

"Can I say something crazy?"

"I would expect nothing less from you."

"I kinda want to marry you."

"Kinda?" you raised an eyebrow, feeling the swarm of butterflies spinning in your stomach but remaining calm and collected on the outside.

"I know we only met a week ago, but what would you say if I asked?"

"Guess you'll have to learn the hard way," you gave him a cheeky grin.

"Okay," he said, and it was only then you realised that the rain had caused the street to clear out of most people. Your eyes widened as he got down on one knee, still holding your hand. Suddenly, you could no longer feel your wet hair clinging to your face, nor your damp clothes sticking to your skin. Not because they had dried, but because all your focus was elsewhere.

You were pretty sure you had forgotten how to breathe.

"Y/N, in the short time I've known you, which is admittedly very short, I have had so much fun," he began, "And as I said right at the beginning, I have a feeling that you're gonna be around a while, it's why I even came over to talk to you the first time you entered my shop- I felt drawn to you. And, well, I'm known for my impulsive decisions, but they've all worked out so far, so, I have no reason not to act on this one too," he took a deep breath, "I don't have a ring right now, but will you marry me?"

You stood, stunned. You hadn't thought he would actually propose to you.

"Don't feel pressured to say yes," he quickly added, making you snap out of your daze.

You shook your head, "Yes- I'll marry you, Freddie."

The man's face lit up as he zoomed to his feet and picked you up, spinning you around as your lips touched each other's for the first time. You couldn't believe it: Fred Weasley was now your fiancé, when he was never even your boyfriend.

"Now, what say we go get some food to celebrate?" he asked.

"Sounds good to me."

***

THREE YEARS LATER.

***

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the officiator called out, "You may kiss the bride."

You watched from the crowd as Ron pressed his lips to Hermione's, joining the rest of the audience with the applauding.

"This is a lot grander than our wedding," Fred leaned down to whisper in your ear.

You laughed gently, "Ours was a much more last minute affair, Freddie."

"Mm, how long was our engagement again?"

"Three weeks," you reminded, "The courting only lasted a week too."

"What can I say? I'm a man who knows what I want."

You shook your head with a smile, picking up the applause again as Hermione and Ron began posing for photos from the photographer.

"Oh, they're calling us up now," Fred said, grabbing your hand and pulling you up to the altar with him. All of the Weasley siblings and their partners were also en route to where the newly weds were.

As you took your position in the photograph with Fred's arm wrapped around you, he leaned down to whisper in your ear yet again.

"Can I just say, my love, you look absolutely gorgeous- as always."

Your bright smile was one of the most genuine in the photograph, as Hermione later commented, and in response to that Fred had immediately taken a copy for your own house.

"What?" he had said when you raised an eyebrow at him, "I told you, I want to stare at your smile forever."

You chuckled.

"And you said I can, provided I make you smile."

You hummed, recalling the conversation that led up to his impromptu proposal fondly.

"And correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm the one that made you smile in this photo."

Unable to argue with him, you gazed at the moving photograph of Fred turning his head away from your ear to smile at the camera. It hadn't quite captured the moment in which he complimented your looks, but it didn't need to, as you knew that you would never forget the context for the image.

Not when your smile really did shine so brightly in it.

—————————————————

masterlist

written; 19/04/2023 —> 31/05/2023 published; 31/05/2023 edited; —/—/——

taglist ; @workinatdapyramid @iluvweasleys​

[vasito-de-leche]

hello!! your writing is so good i am perceiving it /pos. i'm not sure if you do familial/platonic requests so ignore this if you don't but may i request click with a reader who he sees as an older sibling? it can be headcanons or like general thoughts i don't rlly care. thank you!! <3

;R1999 CLICK - Familial Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons and analysis about Click and an older sibling figure.

ty for the ask, nonnie <3 and yes, I do write for familial/platonic stuff too, not just romance! check the rules if you have any questions!

As far as I know, there's no information about Click's family nor their dynamics, and he doesn't seem to fit any of the stereotypical youngest/middle/eldest child labels. So, going by personality alone, I'd say that for Click to consider someone as his very own older sibling figure, they'd have to be somewhat similar to him!

Not necessarily a carbon copy of him, mind you - they don't have to share his passion for photography nor agree with him 24/7! Just someone who he can relate to and who brings him a sense of security. Perhaps someone like Zima! Insightful, with a strong core and sense of self, aiming to broaden his horizons.

Someone who has also seen the darker aspects of life, lived through tragedies and come out stronger - Click is proud of his job, but he knows that talking about heavy subjects isn't everyone's cup of tea. So he'd like to know that his older sibling figure can understand or is trying to understand where he comes from, that he doesn't mean to bring the mood down whenever he happens to bring up the subject of war. It's part of his life and his experiences, and pretending that it didn't happen would be a disservice to all the things he's witnessed.

Alternatively, Click would gravitate towards anyone who shows extreme passion for their craft, regardless of what it might be - creative people who are dedicated and who experience the world through different artistic mediums are a big inspiration for him. Someone who drags him into all sorts of situations, allowing Click to capture many different points of view that he would've otherwise missed. Someone like Regulus or Diggers!

Click tends to wander and disappear a lot. It's always up to you to find him.

Younger siblings tend to either follow after their older siblings all the time like puppies, or disappear off the face of the Earth and mind their business (I'm the youngest of 6 siblings, I can vouch for this). Click fits the latter!

It's common for him to just wander around and disappear for days on end to focus on taking the best pictures across the Wilderness, with nothing but his camera and his thoughts. Somehow, he always seems to know whenever you call out to him - he'll manifest beside you right away, hoping he's not gotten into trouble. It's a weird feeling, knowing people expect him to keep in touch and come back safe and sound, that no matter where he goes, he'll still hear your voice calling out to him because he's going to miss dinner (not that he even needs to eat). But it's a very nice, warm feeling, so he doesn't mind.

I like to think Click - and pretty much any ghost within the universe of R1999 - can just become invisible to the human eye at will, with arcanists (especially those of Spirit and Intelligence afflatus) being able to sense their presence. During particularly bad days, where PTSD might be giving Click a hard time, he'll just fade away so that no one can see him. And then, he'll pick a spot to sit and wait for it to blow over.

Sometimes, you find him anyway, no matter how much he tries to hide. Sometimes, he lets you know where he is. Either way, he lets you know that he'd like for you to stay and keep him company - I imagine there's a system you two come up with, should he feel too overwhelmed to talk. Knock once for yes, two for no. Tug on your shirt if he wants to lead you somewhere quieter, pat your hand to sit down with him, etc etc.

Everyone begins to see you as Click's guardian.

On a less sad note, whenever someone needs Click for anything, they always go to you first and foremost! Either because you're the only one who can figure out where he may be, or because they want to run their plans through you first.

Vertin specifically makes sure to know if you'd like to accompany him during missions that require his presence, or if you'd like to know the details of his next solo mission. It's something she does out of politeness and as a a formality - and because Click just seems to perk up just a tiny bit if she tells him that you expect him to do a proper job. Whenever Lilya is planning to give Click a ride to take better pictures, she always jokes around, saying that she'll bring your precious brother back in one piece. Pavia always jokingly threatens Click to snitch on him and tell his "big scary sibling" that he's been taking pictures of people when they sleep.

From an outsider's point of view - those who do not belong to this group - it feels like everyone is infantilizing Click. He's 19 and a war photographer! But one has to remember that everyone in this suitcase has lost family and friends to the "Storm".

Aside from being displaced and forced into unfamiliar waters, everyone is dealing with so many things on their own, like losing their lives and all the people they once knew and cared for. So knowing that Click was able to form such a strong bond with you, to trust and see you as family, despite everything? It really brings them hope for a brighter future - Vertin's goal to create a place for those who have nowhere else to go starts to make sense for them. And hey, most of them are willing to stop with their little jokes and such should they bother you or Click!

This specific point comes from me seeing Vertin's group as one huge found family - there's no way everyone will get along, but at the end of the day, everyone trusts and relies and takes care of each other. The dynamics within this found family are much too complex for me to get into right now and for people outside of it to even understand, just know that it's a thing!

Click picks up on your mannerisms and speech pattern unconsciously.

Click isn't very talkative outside of the usual photography or artistic talk, he's more of a listener. And while he does become a little more talkative around you, opening up and whatnot, you tend to do most of the talking. And that's how he ends up picking up your mannerisms!

It's especially funny for everyone if you happen to have a very different and contrasting way of speech- the way Click just casually drops an F bomb in that soft-spoken voice whenever he fails to get the perfect shot will NEVER stop funny.

I like to think that, because of how observant he is, he also ends up picking up on your unique gestures. It's all an unconscious thing he does - if someone points it out Click won't even know what they're talking about, entirely oblivious to the fact that he now emotes and makes the same facial expressions as you do, the same gestures (at least when his hands are free, instead of clinging to that camera of his) and using the same phrases and whatnot.