#the goofy smile i had on my face all day..... unmatched

[yatgb]

The deep cut concert today just proves shiver and frye are just doing a fucking bit ribbing on big man this is so funny T_T Frye punches him in the face ON STAGE and then they go bust it down splatlands style. His nervous little shimmy. Theyre literally like wrestling heels theyre SO MEAN. only onstage

[gaypirate420]

I was in a silly goofy mood// Silco.

Silco x gender neutral! reader.

Just crack and cuteness, little bit of self deprecating humor, and a tiny bitty of angst.

Reader gets called Daddy but isn't like serious.

"Oi! Put me down!" Your voice was heard from the hall that guided to Silco's office, he lifts his head and sighs, what did you do this time that caused Sevika to manhandle you?.

"Oi! Gentleness, I'm a fragile person, 'vika" Sevika opened the door and places you on the floor, she looks at Silco then leaves, Silco's eyes go back to the floor and found you on a... questionable position, you are laying on your side with a arm under your head and other on your hips.

"Hello, baby boy, Daddy is home—" You smirked.

"What happened to you?!" He said clearly worried while standing up not even face by your humor because you were punched and with some cuts on your face.

"You should've see the other dude—" You said proudly, Silco looks at you with a lifted eyebrow.

"He got out completely clean, he beated my ass so easily, it was pretty impressive!" You said grabbing your bag and getting up, slowly walking to the couch, you sighed and sit down.

"Stop the jokes, tell me, what happened, my lovely?" He gets the first aid kit and kneeled down infront of you, inspecting your legs for any sight of injuries.

"Nothin' I guess I'm just so ugly I deserve to be punched" You looked away.

"Enough" He said sharp, Silco got up and opened your shirt to check the damage, he cursed to himself when he saw the dark bruise on your ribs, his fingers brushed the bruise, you didn't react to the contact.

"Sorry, sorry, Sil, I guess he was trying to steal for me, but I resisted, well, I said I didn't have any money only flowers...wait! Ah fuck the flowers!" You opened the bag and took out a bouquet, it was a little smashed.

"For you, pretty face" You said with a smile, Silco looks at you then at the flowers feeling his cheeks a little warm.

"They're not very fancy..b-but I didn't have a lot of cash I'll find better ones—" You were nervous.

"They're perfect" He grabs them and place them on the flower vase that is on the coffee table, you see the small smile on his face.

"I love them, but I need to make sure you are all patched up, lovely " He now was on your face, cleaning the cuts on it.

"I- I was planning on buying you chocolates too, but well I got fucking beaten- ouch ouch gentle, Silco!" You hissed in pain, Silco stop his movements.

"I apologize, I will be more delicate, dear" He patched up one cut and gave a kiss on it.

"Aww, so sweet" You said, he chuckled softly and passed to the next cut, his hands are cold but so soft.

"Is there going to be a day where you don't enter that door with a punch or a story on how you almost got killed?" He asks softly.

"Probably not, I'm a generator of violence" You said, he chuckled, he finished the cut and kissed again, his thumb brushed your lips, avoiding the cut on it, his unmatched eyes gave you a last look and then he sat besides you.

"Why did Sevika had to carry you?" His arm gets behind you head and you get closer to his body, when you inhale you could smell his cologne and the cigarettes, you close your eyes.

"I wasn't going to lose my dignity like that, I wanted a second round but Sevika found me first" You said.

"You really thought you could take a second round?" He asks, the left side of your face that is on his chest hurts a little but you just wanted him close.

"Yup" You said, you took a deep breath.

"Hmm"

"I'm very sleepy" You admitted, his hand passes to your cheek, his thumb doing circles on it.

"Then rest, darling, I'm here, with me, nothing will hurt you" His voice is very soothing, almost a whisper, but he sounded convinced, you just got closer to his body.

"Can I stay here...like forever?" You said shy.

"If you want to" Said Silco looking at you.

"I do, but what about you? You will have to see me daily and hear my voice—"

"I don't see why that would be a problem—"

"oh- okay" You looked at him, he pressed a kiss on your forehead.

"Your company is something I have been craving a lot, I have no excuses" said Silco not meeting eyes with you.

"You just love me, Sil" You said with a smirk.

"I do, my dear...I want you here with me, to protect you and it's selfish, but to have you for myself" His bicolored eyes finally meet yours, he has a little smile on his face.

You blushed but you know what he is not telling you,

He doesn't want you to leave.

To betray him like other people had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well then I'll stay, and I will never left" You said the last sentence like a joke but he knows you mean it.

"I'll send someone to get your things" He said.

"Where am I going to sleep?" You said, he looks at you, you gasp.

"On your bedroom!, oh ho~" You said playfully, he smiled and looked away, he thoughts about why he hasn't tell you to move with him before.

You moved positions and put you head on his lap, he looks down and his long fingers brushed your cheek, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

A/N: heyyyy, did u miss me? I am starting my semester so I probably won't update too much, hope u like this little thing I made.

[denkamis]

hi!! could i get double chocolate and cherry with kaminari, shinsou and midoriya please?❤️

idk if i did this right so im sorry if i didnt!

to anon: hey anon, no worries! you did it perfectly :)) aww i love the characters you chose for this prompt, this is adorable. enjoy some fluffy times with these sleep deprived boys from a very sleep deprived writer <3

warnings: none! just some swearing and some bad sleeping habits lmao. reader is gn!

prompt: denki kaminari, hitoshi shinsou, izuku midoriya scenarios + “it’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyways.”

denki kaminari

denki stays up late playing osu and minecraft

what can i say, he’s just a gamer man

so he’s honestly pretty reliable when it comes to you knocking on his door at late hours of the night

always the biggest cuddle bug, really happy that you go to him first out of everyone

literally drops everything for you hehe

lots of sleepy kisses too

“fuck! goddammit,” denki grumbled, shaking out his wrist as he had just failed the six star version of the intro of blend-s on osu. he had gotten rather addicted to the circle clicking game. this further resulted in denki staying up late on school nights, despite kirishima’s warnings of him potentially falling asleep in class the next day. it was fine, he could always borrow notes from you or jirou anyways!

as he went to restart the map again, a soft knock came at the door to his dorm room. spinning off his computer room chair, he prepared himself to be lectured by aizawa for the fifth time this week about breaking curfew. “aizawa-sensei, i know that i’ve been loud lately but i swear this time it won’t happen- y/n?” he stopped mid-sentence as he saw you standing on the other side of the door. “what are you doing up so late?”

you shook your head, immediately hugging his torso instead. you were clearly a bit distraught about something, but denki wasn’t a mind reader. he figured that from the way you were clinging onto him, it must have been a bad dream of some kind. “hey, hey, easy there! nearly knocked me over, huh,” denki laughed lightly, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head before closing the door behind you. you clung onto him, face buried in the crook of his neck. it made a small blush dust across his cheeks, a warm feeling spreading through his arms as he held you close. “i hope i’m not bothering you,” you mumbled, to which denki hummed. “you never bother me, babe. it’s okay, i couldn’t really sleep anyways.”

the two of you stayed like that for a long while, denki swaying the two of you back and forth. you could feel gentle lips peppering the crown of your head with kisses. as your heart rate slowed, denki piped up. “wanna stay here for the night? my bed’s missing out on some action! and by some action, i mean sleep. i really can’t sleep.”

you snorted at his words, your eyes flicking up to his goofy yet endearing smile, his eyes bright yet a bit tired from late night gaming. he poked his tongue out at you, making you roll your eyes with a tiny smile of your own gracing your features.

“how could i say no to that?”

hitoshi shinsou

we already know he’s up at these unholy hours

not for any particular reason, just because he can’t really sleep

quite the insomniac that one

and the fact that he can’t sleep properly or well unless you’re with him

you smell like lavender in the morning too bc he puts it in his pillow to help him sleep, thank you

shinsou lay awake in bed, eyes trained on the ceiling as he waited for himself to fall asleep. it was no secret that he barely got any rest, so it was simply easier to just sit and wait until his body exhausted itself to the point where he simply fell asleep. staying as still as he could, he kept counting the amount of times he breathed in and out. it made him acutely aware of his surroundings. the crickets outside his room, the way the moonlight streamed through his blinds, the miscellaneous creaking sounds of the dorms. yeah, he definitely wasn’t sleeping tonight.

he didn’t flinch as the door to his room opened, blinking slowly as his eyes adjusted to the light spilling into his room along with a new figure. “y/n?” he asked, not bothering to sit up. “hey, are you up? sorry toshi, i couldn’t sleep,” you explained softly, allowing the door to close behind you as you tiptoed across his dorm room. his hair was sprawled across his pillow, deep violet locks hiding his hands situated behind his head comfortably. it showed off his arms that were built from training for when, not if, he ever got into the hero course.

a lazy smile crossed his lips at your words, his heartstrings being played by you so seamlessly. “it’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyways,” he replied with a tilt of his head towards you. he moved over a bit in his bed as to give you space to lay down next to him. you crawled beneath his comforters, inhaling the scent of lavender as you did. apparently shinsou had said that the smell helped him fall asleep easier. strong arms wrapped around your waist, encasing you in a protective embrace as your head rested comfortably against his chest. the comforter was thrown over the two of you. you felt so much safer already.

his large hands were placed on your lower back, his thumbs drawing lazy circles on your skin as his breathing began to relax noticeably. hiding your smile, you cuddled closer to him. to this day, you had never seen shinsou fall asleep so quickly since that night.

izuku midoriya

baby is up studying for a test that’s in like 2 weeks

either that or he’s on an all might video spree on youtube and no that is not the first time this has happened, it is certainly not the last

he has so many stuffed animals in his room probably, like he just has them stuffed in his closet

the all might plushies stay on the bed tho

his cuddles are unmatched tho, change my mind

izuku was pacing around his room, vocabulary words spinning about his mind as he counted them on his fingers. he was mumbling definitions to himself, going over all of them in his head before referencing his notebook to make sure nothing went wrong. amidst his ramblings, a knock at the door made him jump to attention. “come in?” he called out, watching intently as he saw you come into view. his face showed relief, grateful to know it wasn’t aizawa or kacchan complaining about his incessant pacing.

“would it be alright if i sleep here tonight? i’m worrying about my grades and stuff again,” you rubbed the back of your neck with a small smile, trying to play off your question as relaxed as you could. it wasn’t exactly a secret that you had a crush on the boy in front of you. he was kind and humble, wanting to help as many people as he could despite all the circumstances that had the world against him. it was admirable. even now, he looked so concerned from the clear lack of sleep you’ve been getting these past few days. “of course you can sleep here. ah, wait! i have to, ah,” he stumbled over his words as you looked to the bed to see not one, not even two, but four all might stuffed toys on his bed.

“oh.”

midoriya’s face erupted with crimson, shoving the plushies into his closet as he sputtered out various excuses as to why they were there in the first place. when he turned back to you, you were giggling. not at him, but because of the entire situation in general. “you’re adorable, izu,” you told him gently. a light feeling bloomed in his chest upon seeing the smile you held for him. you looked so undeniably beautiful to him, the way your hair was a bit messy and how you stood in your pyjamas. while others, including yourself, would find that you looked completely normal, midoriya loved seeing you be so casual, so comfortable around him.

“you’re sure i’m not interrupting you, though?”

midoriya returned your smile with his own, stepping forward to intertwined his scarred fingers with your delicate ones. “it’s okay,” he murmured softly, holding your hand as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him, “i couldn’t really sleep anyways.”

all works © denkamis 2021.

tags:

@meilbox @honeykami @httpfirx @strawberrysalwa @hey-i-really-miss-you @smexy-goose @satis-kei

want to be on the taglist? see this post!

[ficsnroses]

Pregnancy Headcanons - John Wick x Reader

❧ may be read as a follow up to these.

warnings : pregnancy. smut. morning sickness mention. mega fluff.

words : 2.3k. requested by a lovely anon!

notes : remember ages ago when I said I’d whip these up? I did em! I couldn’t fit all my ideas. lemme know if you’d like to see another one of these with a similar concept. feedback appreciated as always! 

I love headcanons. so easy. so carefree. so much to say. don’t forget that you can request headcanons, too! not just full fics or drabbles.

A few weeks ago, John and you found out you were pregnant. Initially, it’s been slightly frightening to know that in a mere nine months or so, John and you will have a baby, a little human, who’s entire world you two will be, and they will be yours in return.

You’re more frightened, being the one carrying your child. You have your fears of not being good enough, or not knowing how to be the utmost perfect mother you can be to your baby.

John, however, is ecstatic. He’s frightened as well; he’s never done this before. Yet, he keeps it under wraps for you. For you, John always puts on a brave face and holds your hand each step of the way.

He goes out of his way to make sure you’re comfortable and well taken care of. So far, your belly isn’t even showing; but there is life inside. John has always treated you as a queen, but it has intensified tenfold after he got you pregnant.

Not a dish in the house is allowed to be washed by you, not a cloth may be touched. John wants to you relax and take it easy, focus on yourself. He truly believes that as long as you’re happy and healthy, the baby will be too.

John has always been an absolute sweetheart; nonetheless, since you’ve gotten pregnant, he’s only gotten lovelier. Many times, you fear you’re dreaming, and may wake up soon. John Wick is quite literally;

too good to be true.

Each morning, he’ll nuzzle into your chest, smiling a goofy grin.

“Morning, beautiful.” He whispers into your hair, peppering soft kisses to your temples and forehead. “And to you too, peanut.” He smiles, heavy hand rested to your growing tummy. John never misses an opportunity to tell you how much he loves you, and your baby. Despite them not even being here yet. He knows that this pregnancy will take a toll on you; he’d wish for more than anything that he could carry the pain instead of you, which is why he showers you with love. He’d never want you to forget how important you are; how much you mean. You’re his entire world and this means more to him than you can imagine.

Morning sickness has been tough. Often, you’ll wake up feeling nauseous, however, you feel secure knowing you have a team player on your side. Occasionally, in the middle of the night when you’re up at 3:00am feeling awful, John helps you out of bed, holding your hair up for you and rubbing small, soothing circles to your back in the washroom.

“I’m going to make you ginger tea, alright babe?” He quietly speaks, leaving a speckled kiss to your shoulder as you freshen up. You feel awful keeping him up this late, John always needs rest due to his gruesome job.

Foot rubs and massages get a lot more common as your tummy grows. John doesn’t mind, he enjoys the intimacy and being close to you.

Speaking of intimacy…

You continue having sex for as long as you can, because you both know that down the road, as your hormones continue to fluctuate and your belly grows, it may not be something you’ll be able to do often.

John and you do, and always have had sex often for as long as you’ve been together. It helps John ease down, calm his nerves and relieve tension. You don’t mind making love to him either, of course. You feel lucky to feel him so close, and to be the only women who feels him that way.

“Close your eyes, Squish,” John whispers a chuckle, a delicate kiss placed to your bare belly, just where your baby rests. His heavier hands gently peel off the fabric of your bottoms, full lips trailing lower, soft kisses pecked to your inner thighs as he nears your heat. “Daddy’s about to do some real nasty things to mommy.”

You’re not sure if its just your hormones, or delicate emotions as of late. Nonetheless, having sex with John has felt…closer since you got pregnant. It truly feels like you’re making the sweetest of love each and every time. He kisses you so sweet, works you so slow, so intimately, so tenderly, it brings tears to your eyes.

Having him inside feels unreal, divine. He only picks up pace nearing climax, his expertise, skill and unmatchable affection never failing to spill you over the edge so well.

As your belly grows bigger and bigger a few months in, going places, and moving is becoming increasingly tough. Grocery trips have become progressively more tiresome; car rides gradually more uncomfortable. John tries his hardest to help, and understands if you snap at him a little too quick or accidentally pick a fight over something minor.

“Can you turn the music down? Please?” You interrupt a serene drive home from the market, voice coaxed with irritation, laced aggravation tinted across all tones. John’s hand rests to your thigh as he drives, his other placed to the thin steering wheel. You’d been complaining about discomfort the entire morning; he felt awful knowing you were in any sort of pain.

“Sorry.” He sighs, hand shifting from your thigh to crank the stereo of his beloved Mustang 69’ down. Passing traffic winds roar outside, the New York buildings passing in towering lengths. John’s palm immedietly rests back to your thigh; smooth, gentle strokes ran across the fabric clad to your lap. His eyes stay focused to the road, yet his hand stays touching you, letting you know he’s there.

That he’ll always be there, no matter how frustrated you get, how intolerable your nagging becomes.

He loves you, and he loves his baby. He’s waited far too long to have this; normalcy, something his, something his own; something created out of love, familiarity. Something he’d lacked for far too long.

“Ugh.” You exhale, after a moment of stretched silence, hand coming up to rub your weary eyes. “I’m being awful, aren’t I?” You whisper, saddened eyes locking to your husband’s street bound orbs. He turns momentarily to lock eyes, a gentle smile your way.

“No, sweetheart.” He assures, grip on your thigh tightening. You groan, rebutting. “No, John. I am. I’m sorry.” You sigh, reaching both your hands down to your lap to engulf his, holding his hand in a soft grip. You rub the top of his palm, relaxing, playing with his sturdier fingers. “I love you. I really do.” Sincerely, your eyes stay focused to his well defined features, the dark beard that rides his cheek.

And to the sound of your guilty voice, John chuckles, securing your hand in his, before brining it up to his lips for a soft kiss.

“I know.”

John has come to all your ultrasound appointments; he wouldn’t miss them for the world. He holds your hand the entire time, signature goofy smile daubed to his smoky features.

The first ultrasound was incredibly emotional, you shed a couple of tears. John and you stare at the screen, a pea sized dot resting in the darkened frame. John’s hand holds yours so tight, so warm, you’d felt as if you could feel him within you. Like he was this significant, big part of you that you would cherish forever. Seeing him smile that day will be a sight you’ll never forget; a mural you’ll never surrender.

Through out your time together, over the timeline of your love, you’ve only seen John this way a handful of times. This happiness was different; held something sole, matchless. This was pure happiness, where nothing else tinted the depths of his thoughts. No insecurities, no doubts, no ghosts of his past. Apart from the day you said yes to marrying him, and the day of your wedding, you don’t remember John ever being this unconditionally, purely, happy.

You both sit on the couch later that night, John’s arms holding you close as your head lays to his broad chest, staring, smiling at the picture of your dream; the one that would conquer your entire hearts when they’d come.

John keeps a copy of the ultrasound picture in his wallet. He takes a moment to look at it, to remember what he has any time he needs a pick me up throughout the day.

John takes amazing care of you, your needs always before his. He monitors your eating and drinking, to make sure you and the baby are healthy. He gives you your supplements; you often forget the times throughout the day you need to take them.

Speaking of food…

Midnight cravings have become a usual for you. Normally, you suffice for waddling down to the kitchen, sure not to disturb your snoozing husband.

Gently removing his arm from your waist, you always smile a gentle, loving glaze his way. John sleeping is a sight you’ve come to adore over the years.

John at peace; is a sight you’ve come to adore. He deserves rest, he deserves peace.

Although, its tough not to wake John. More often than not, he’ll find you in the kitchen in the AM dark, smiling a cheeky grin as you devour left over dinner, or a questionable choice of midnight snack.

He’ll come up behind you, wrapping his arms snoozily around your mid, hands placed to your tummy. With a gentle kiss to the back of your head and his warm chest pressed to your back, his sleep thick, honey seared voice rasps a tender baritone in your neck.

“Hungry?” He’ll chuckle, quiet and warm. You only nod, lacing your hand to his that rests on your belly.

Of course, there have been rare nights where you crave something that isn’t in the fridge. John never turns you down, however. No matter how tired, how sleepy he is, he ventures to your local 24-hour market, or gas station in search of whatever you’d yearned.

“Should I come with you?” You bite your lip, pulling the comforter of your shared bed higher up your chest as you sit up. “I’m sorry I’m making you go out.” You frown, insecure. “But I just can’t stop thinking about how I just need a candy bar right now.”

John’s brown leather jacket shrugs onto his shoulders, and his lips smile your way, picking his wallet up off the night stand.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be quick.” He whispers, a kiss to your forehead before he’s out the door, blinking away sleep dense orbs.

For you, he’d wake a thousand nights. A million slumbers may waste away.

Slowly, you build the nursery for your baby. John works away, painting once crisp white walls into something more pastel, something that would welcome your child with joyful colour.

John has definitely become more talkative over the pregnancy.

He never misses out on a chance to kiss your belly, or talk to them.

“I’ll be back soon.” He announces, car keys armed in his sturdy fingers. With a kiss to your lips, he smiles. “I love you, don’t forget it.”

“Hurry back please.” You frown, a light whine coated to your tone. John only nods, slightly dropping to his knee in front of you, a quick, brief kiss placed to your tummy. “Keep mommy company, squish.” He tells your belly, a quiet, barely audible ‘daddy loves you’ Fled into the air, before he’s up, his hold on your hand let go as you walk him to the door, wishing him a wonderful day with a final kiss to his cheek.

You shop for cribs, toys, decorations all together. John looks incredibly handsome building the crib, painting the walls, asking exactly where you wanted everything to be placed. You watch him from your rocking chair in the corner, a hand to your belly as you talk to John the entire time, about anything, and everything.

John is a wonderful listener. Together, you two often talk about your future. A future where you’ll move away somewhere out of town,

Somewhere closer to the water, down the road. Somewhere where John’s ghastly pasts wont haunt him no more; somewhere you’ll grow old together with a white picket fence, and a story.

Your story, that you’ll tell you grandkids someday, when you’re old and gray, slightly slower; but still, hopelessly in love.

John adores talking to the baby. On secluded, rainy evenings, or when the sun sets out the mauve horizon and the trees bid goodnight to cotton clouds, John and you lounge on the couch, a thick, heavy novel equipped in John’s palm as he reads to you, and your tummy.

With his head resting on your lap, you stroke his lengthy coffee mane, fully engaged, lost in his mélange voice; smoky and rich, beautifully saccharine. Your thumbs coax his tired temples; gently scratching his stubble ridden cheek when you please. Every now and then, John’s glowing eyes peer up, glossing over your features.

He looks lovely like this, at ease, immersed in art.

To you, he is the loveliest of art. He’s a story, he’s a piece of Neverland. He’s your love story, and it’s one,

for the ages;

your love is one for the ages.

Sometimes, he’ll fall asleep this way, head resting in your lap as you stroke his hair. Him and the baby rest together, so close to you.

This was what it meant to have true, wholesome, pure, purpose. To have security, to have something truly, only, yours.

They were yours.

Pregnancy would be tough. It would be a journey, things would change, you would change. But you weren’t scared, for a single moment.

Because you knew, that you had your dream, your mountain of a man beside you, holding your hand,

Each step,

Of the way.

And you knew, you knew well. That the day your baby comes, they will have the most amazing, wonderful father who loves them, and their mommy to the ends of the world, and back.

You’d felt love before, you’d had everything before.

But with this, with what you’ve made, with John; it falls incomparable.

He’s the love that made all the others,

Irrelevant.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

[madlymiho]

Summary: It's been a few years since you're working as Katakuri's maid, a few years he's also ignoring the blooming feelings he has for you. Unfortunately, with his soon-to-be arranged wedding coming, the possibility to confess seems more and more impossible. Though, on the Halloween Night, as you're allowed to enjoy the festivities on his island, he becomes upset and worry to see that you're not back after midnight. Determined to find you, this spooky evening might be the opportunity you have both always wished for...

Warning: angst and fluff 🍪

Words: 3901

@elliemehl​ @alice1290​ @hanajimasama​ thanks for enabling this so intensely!

Katakuri: A moonlight promise (read after the cut)

“Anything else, Sir?”

Your voice sounds like the softest feather, sad for sure, but your grace is still unmatchable despite your low status in the society. You’re a perfect nobody, someone he shouldn’t even have noticed in the first place. You have been chosen because, let’s be honest, you didn’t have the slightest chance to gain a powerful position in the current society on his island. Being a house cleaner for the most powerful Sweet Commander of the Charlotte Family is an honor for most of people, and as you didn’t have the choice, at your twenty-five birthday, you joined the squad in charge of his mansion. You’re coming from a family of farmers, offering every month a bit of your lifetime to be allowed to remain here. That’s something he finds particularly despicable, but since it’s his mother’s rules, and since he would do everything to please her whim, he has never tried to save you from your cruel fate. Though, Katakuri definitely noticed you since day one. You were so clumsy and afraid to make mistakes that you dropped a plate of fresh animal cakes you brought back from the castle’s kitchen, somehow a way for you to please his everyday munchies. He could have thrown you away for the lack of attention you have been exposing that day, but deep down, Katakuri found you utterly adorable. You had something different in your eyes, a fire he wasn’t sure to understand. At first, he really thought that you were there to defy his authority, never acting awkwardly anymore, always present to answer his demands, but with time, months after months, he understood you were nothing but the purest soul around. Dedicated, soft and understanding, having you by his side could soothe his deepest whims and angers. You never looked at him with those fearful eyes anymore, only the brightest colors of your incredible devotion. He felt so lucky, his own heart perhaps appreciating the new music, heartbeats slightly increasing whenever you were entering the room with your big goofy smile, and those features full of light and happiness. However, came the day he received an order from his mother. Something he has been pushing away for years, preferring to keep a lonely existence, only to maintain the current print of the Charlotte Family over the world. Though, his mother decided differently, and her orders were always absolute. Katakuri, despite his age, despite his will to remain alone, will have to marry the daughter of this powerful smuggler in Grand Line and the New World, only to provide more technological weapons for his mother’s war. It was political, no love required in this union, but alas, Katakuri felt his heart completely shattered as soon as he received the news. The sensation increased even more when he understood you were probably aware of this information yourself. You smile changed; now it’s tinted with a deep sadness he has never seen before. It’s the kind of smile you’re wearing right now, as you’re finishing to gather his empty plates.

“No, Name, it was perfect, as always. Perhaps you should smuggle more of those peanut donuts you brought today, it was truly enjoyable.” Katakuri nods, sat against his mochi couch, his severe eyes peering down at you, his mouth fully covered one more time. You never discovered his ugly secret, at least. “I guess I’d be seeing you for dinner then. I heard Mama wanted to try a new cuisine, and there will be roasted chicken with a butternut gratin for once.” He pauses for a moment, and sighs. “Perhaps you’ll have some leftovers, if you wish. You have been working hard today, I can have a word with my own squad.”

You almost gasp to the unexpected act of kindness – a rarity when it comes to Katakuri, feeling truly embarrassed to shake your head.

“You don’t want that?” Katakuri frowns, his voice becoming slightly more concerned. “It’s a gift to have the same dinner than your master, Name.”

He feels a bit hurt in his ego, but he notices that you seem parted, and suddenly so shy to tell him something. Gosh, was he too harsh once more? He despises the fact you might be afraid of him.

“N-No, Sir, it would be an honor, as always, to stay by your side, but we have received a notification from the Whole Cake Island’s castle, and all the servants are authorized to celebrate Halloween this year…” Your voice doesn’t shake, but it’s not the most confident either. “I was hoping to…”

“I see.” Katakuri cuts it short, and dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “If it’s coming from Mama’s castle, I won’t forbid you to celebrate Halloween, an order is an order. I’ll ask one of my little sister to bring me my dinner; you can have your free time.” He pauses though, and looks back at you with the same coldness he tries to use whenever he doesn’t want to sound too concerned. “Will you be on your own, tonight?”

“No, I’m going with two maids from other houses, Perospero and Mont d’Or’s ones, Sir.” You assure with a firm nod, somehow happy to have the permission to celebrate one of your favorite tradition, but also upset that he doesn’t seem to have any plans for the night. “I won’t stay outside for too long, Sir, you have my word. I’ll be there to bring you your midnight snack, as always.”

He keeps looking at you, somehow surprised by the sudden need to justify yourself regarding your own activities of the night. Perhaps it’s a strategy to soothe his potential disappointed, if so, it seems to work, but as a man who can’t allow himself to have feelings for you, he eventually shakes his head.

“Non-sense, Name.” He says with a detached tone, stretching his legs as he has the intention to leave the room now. He can’t help but think what kind of costume you’re going to wear? How would be your makeup? All these thoughts are nothing some torture he needs to escape. “Perospero will certainly hand a lots of homemade candies and organize a big treasure hunt as always. You’ll have many things to try out there; it would be a shame if you don’t enjoy them all. Be home around midnight, but not before.”

You bite your bottom lip for a moment, and make a step forward, your hand coming up before you immediately press it back against your torso ; what are you even thinking about?

“But, what about you, Sir?” You mumble with a soft voice, cocking your head to encourage him to talk to you. “Aren’t you celebrating the Halloween festivities yourself? It’s a foggy day outside, but I’m sure this could be a good thing.”

He turns around, just to throw you one of his numerous serious look, his crimson irises remaining unreadable, even if you know him so well. He doesn’t answer to your plea, and simply walk out of the room, ignoring this intense urge he’s experiencing at this particular moment, the very which almost made him offer to spend the evening with him. Better be safe than sorry, and Katakuri imagines that there are certain things which must remain secret. No really, all of this wouldn’t be a good idea.

***

It’s past midnight and his entire thoughts are focused on one and only one person. He believes that indeed, you’re having a tremendous time outside, but for sure, he feels concerned. He saw you living the mansion with that cute and messy witch outfit, probably something you have prepared during your free time, collecting some material here and there to create your scary dress. You looked incredibly adorable and spooky, your face covered with some audacious bloody makeup for the show. Of course, he didn’t leave his room to wish you a good night; it would have been weird, especially for him, to care about his maids’ activities and their sudden gain of freedom, at least just for one night. He had his dinner, he carved a few pumpkins to put it in the garden, but something felt utterly different from usual. The sensation increased when you weren’t there to bring him his midnight snack, probably because deep down, he has been hoping you wouldn’t follow his advices and would come home sooner. Mmh, all of this is pretty upsetting for the Sweet Commander, his observation Haki working so hard that he’s anticipating the moment he would hear your light footsteps behind the door. He wishes that he would be able to sleep, but alas, even his tiredness abandoned him tonight. He growls deeply, scolding himself silently for being easily tormented by someone who’s nothing for the Charlotte Family.

After several minutes of a very unwelcomed torture upon his own mind, Katakuri decides that it’s more than enough, you should have come home sooner than this. Gathering his clothes, he dresses-up as usual, leather and spikes covering his muscular body, before he rolls his scarf around his head and heads out of his room, determined to find you, wherever you are. He didn’t expressly gave you an hour to come back home either, and surely, he’s not the one to decide, but perhaps something happened, and he doesn’t wish to learn that he could have done something rather than anticipating any kind of sorrow, right there, laid on his bed; it feels like a good excuse. Finally wandering into the almost empty streets of his island, it doesn’t take him too long to feel your presence, a few streets away, and all by yourself. So, you did lie to him earlier. You promised that you wouldn’t be alone, and yet, as he’s approaching in the dark, fog covering his large presence, he definitely notices the lack of escort around you. Another groan is earned from your carefree attitude, this very one loud enough for you to hear it. You almost jump on your feet, turning around, visible fear displayed on your pretty features.

“Who… Who’s here?” You ask with a shaky voice, trembling on your feet. “I’m…I’m working for the Charlotte Family, so you better not do something stupid!”

“And aren’t you doing something stupid yourself, Name?”

Katakuri steps out of the dark, crimson irises looking down at you with a rare intensity. It’s still foggy as hell, and you don’t have a proper look on his face, but clearly, you can sense his wrath towards you. Immediately, you flinch and lower your gaze, ready to be punished for your behavior. Maybe a night of freedom hasn’t been the best idea you had.

“Sir, I’m so sorry!” You try to explain, as you hear the familiar caster of his leather boot clicking in the dark. “I… I was supposed to go back to the mansion earlier, but I’ve lost something and I couldn’t go home without it!”

Katakuri clicks his tongue impatiently, feeling anger invading his blood.

“That’s the only excuse you think about to explain your lack of prudence?” He barks harshly, his voice echoing against the buildings. “You told me you weren’t alone! You told me your friends escorted you, was it all a lie after all? I trusted you enough to be loyal and respectful, giving you even more time to enjoy the festivities, and you’re spitting at the name of my Family so pitifully?”

“No, Sir, I promise I was not alone! My friends went home because they couldn’t stay any longer, and I wished I could fulfill my promise towards you, but I swear I had a good reason!” You look up and take a step closer, afraid but brave enough to challenge his wrath and make amends. “I lost the spoon you gave me for my birthday and I couldn’t bear the idea to walk back to you without the only precious item I have ever possessed…”

For a moment, Katakuri was about to continue his intense scolding, almost certain that you were lying to him, but as soon as you mentioned the gift he gave you, his cheeks turn into something pinker than usual. He remembers that one day you were serving him, looking a bit away, your head in the clouds... He learnt later that day that it was your birthday, and decided to offer you a silver spoon he kept from his childhood, the very one he was using during his first merienda, when he was alone and feared by everyone, founding the slightest peace in these moments of snacking. He thought you wouldn’t care about such a gift, but he had nothing better to offer you. He gulps, unsettled and flustered.

“You kept it?” He asks, cursing himself from picking those words instead of the logical ones he should think about.

Gently, you take other step forward, shaky hands coming up to press them onto his forearm. He doesn’t shift not try to escape your grip, the fog of the spooky night covering his intense blush. At least, in the middle of this mist, no one is able to see what’s happening here.

“I wouldn’t get rid of the only thing which matters to me, Sir…” You assure, before you look down, feeling dizzy to be allowed to be so close to him. “This is…This is the only thing I’ll cherish when you’d be married.”

His own stomach wrenches so hard that he has a hard time muffling his emotions, unable to fully understand the meaning of your words. It can’t be true. It’s forbidden. He’s the Sweet Commander of the Charlotte Family, the strongest, the fearless soldier, and yet, at this particular moment, he’s nothing else but a puppy. He swallows his spite, still harsh and cold, despite the fact he didn’t tell you to take off your hands.

“If you have something to say, speak loud and clear, don’t beat around the bush.” He abruptly drops, perhaps a bit too severely for the entire situation. Though, he finds himself unable to act differently, somehow worried about the words you might pronounce. “Remember your place, though, and the potential consequences of your statement. Life isn’t about the choices you wish to make, life is about the obligations you have to fulfill. I will not tolerate a childish remark regarding my wedding, nor an attempt to fight Mama’s orders.”

Softly, just so softly, your hands abandon his forearm, as you take a step backward, tears gleaming in your eyes, yet, you manage to keep a certain control upon your emotions. This sight for him is almost unbearable, tragic, and heartbreaking. He didn’t really say those words to you, in the end, but for himself. He wouldn’t have been upset at you if you wanted to confess something he’s afraid to hear, but at himself for being so eager to listen to you. He can’t fight Mama’s will. He has to be an example for his brothers and sisters.

“Nothing to state? Then, it’s time to go home. You have been wandering enough, and this spoon means nothing.” He turns around, his heart like a rock within his chest. No, he can’t. He can’t feel that way with you. “Also, I believe it’s time to thank you for your services. Tomorrow, you’ll pack to join Pudding’s island, you could serve her good there.”

Each word crushes a little bit more his already more than damaged heart, as he extends his hand to show the way back to his mansion. Under the pale light of the moonlight, and thanks to the fog surrounding you, at least he doesn’t have to witness your bitter tears. Head down, irises focused on your feet, you don’t wish to see his face anymore. The silent surrounding you is so uncomfortable that you almost believe he might hear your heartbeat, and it’s sorrowful melody. Yet as you’re lost in your thoughts, you suddenly bump into his back, Katakuri completely immobile, his arm turning into mochi to prevent any sort of attack. His Haki feels something, and it will come from the right. Before you can anticipate anything, he quickly grabs you and jumps aside, avoiding a shot of eggs in your direction. Harmless for sure, but it’s enough for you to let loose a surprised scream. Both of you can hear the chirping laughter of playful children, perhaps some orphans who love to play tricks during Halloween night. However, with all that fog, all this situation, the jack-o’-lantern floating in the air and watching you with their frightening empty eyes, the suspicious sounds and some far away laughter, you can’t help but feel definitely scared. That’s probably why you didn’t notice that you’re still trapped against Katakuri’s chest, both of your hands gripping his jacket strongly.

“I think it’s them who stole my spoon!” You gently cry, your eyes coming up, only to see that you’re still there… against him. “I’m…”

“It’s a scary night, where mischief and tricks are allowed.” Katakuri assures, this time, his large hand cupping your jawline. “And I have been harsh with you, haven’t I? Your emotions are shattered. Are you still scared, right now?”

You shake your head slowly, your bottom lip trembling under the softness of his touch, so different from his usual cold attitude. Does he really want you to go?

“No, Sir, I’m not scared when I’m with you.” You assure, before looking down. “I’m only scared when you’re not around…”

You’re opening-up one more time, because after all, this is probably the last time you’d be able to be close to him this way.

“I didn’t mean to insult Mama’s orders earlier, and I know very well my position in this world, Sir. But may the ghosts of the night witness me and give me their former strength; I’m also heartbroken to realize you’re going to get married and that you want me away by tomorrow.” You press your forehead against the bottom of his pec, and close your eyes. “Your presence soothes me more than I could imagine, and even if I’m not worthy of experiencing these feelings, they are there, Sir.” You pause, and feel that his hand moves from your jaw to the top of your head, caressing them with a light touch. “I’m not a noble nor a respectable woman, I don’t have any wealth, and my all life is nothing but servitude. I’ll be the maid of the Charlotte Family forever, trapped in my condition, unable to escape it no matter what I can wish for. But through your kindness, I’ve seen someone I fell in love with.”

He flinches to your statement, as he immediately withdraws his hand from your hair. You look up, concerned, only to see something unusual in his eyes. It’s not wrath, nor disgust… it’s fear.

“Name, you’re thinking out of your mind, because you haven’t seen my full appearance. Your feelings bloomed because of my sympathy towards you, but I’m still the monster people are afraid of.”

“Are you talking about the secret you hide behind your scarf, Sir?” You try with the best soothing voice you can offer. “I don’t believe you can be monstrous, Sir. Monsters are like those kids we met in the dark and throw eggs at you. You have the kindest soul among the Charlotte’s, your intentions are justified and genuine. You’re loyal to your family, but you have a heart, I know you enough to be certain of that. A man like that couldn’t be monstrous, no matter what a scarf rolled around his face might hide.”

A ravenous fire begins to burn within Katakuri’s chest, as he doesn’t believe he can fight those emotions until the end of time. No one has never been that kind towards him, his atrocious appearance always something deeply traumatizing for anyone who looked at him. He doesn’t wish to scare you, but at the same time, he somehow wishes to witness a real proof of your statement. Perhaps you would find him repulsive enough to run away? At least, he wouldn’t have to make that despicable choice between his heart and his mind right now. Therefore, with a slow gesture, Katakuri grips his scarf and starts to roll it off his face. Under the moonlight of this Halloween night, he would look like the most disgusting monster, but alas, this appearance would be his only one forever. Fangs finally exposed, Katakuri waits for the reaction he has been anticipating forever, his haki unable to be used as he’s not fully calm anymore. What will you say? Would you suddenly take a step backward, your fear unable to be muffled anymore? Peering down at you, he believes there won’t be any other way, any other ending for a man like him. Yet, as you’re staring at him, plastered against his torso, you don’t seem to go away.

“I don’t see any monster here…” You whisper tenderly, and smile at him. “You’re not hideous, and I don’t feel scared.”

Katakuri harshly swallows his spite, before he eventually cups both of your cheeks, the pad of his gloved thumbs caressing your skin.

“And I don’t wish you to go anywhere else but my mansion.” He answers, blushing harder than he would believe. “I don’t wish to cast you away. I was upset because of what I’m about to do.”

You frown, unsure, and he nods slowly.

“Finding good arguments to cancel this wedding, because Mama can be reasonable when she’s in the mood.” He continues, as he pulls you closer, more determined. “My wedding isn’t something as valuable as the weddings of other of my siblings. Mama wishes to have both the power and the strength to claim the pirate throne, and I shall be her weapon by her side, not a grounded husband, pleasing someone else’s whims. Mama will understand that.”

He squats down a little bit, until his eyes would be right in front of yours, his face dangerously close from yours. You have many thoughts crossing your mind, yet, not a single word is able to leave your mouth. Katakuri frowns.

“Will you stay by my side?” He asks with a weaker voice than expected, serious but flustered, his irises digging into yours. “I… don’t ever wish to lose you.”

You nod several times, both of your hands coming up to follow the curve of his jawline, silently analyzing the deep and forbidden beauty of his uncommon features. Katakuri eventually grabs one of your hand, pressing his lips onto your palm.

“If I ever need to marry someone, Name, I will do everything to marry you, and no one else.” He says, before he pulls you even closer. “But for now… I think I will just seal this promise with a kiss, if you allow me.”

Certain that his secret promise wouldn’t be busted by anyone in this foggy night, and once he’s sure you wouldn’t push him away anymore, Katakuri comes forward and presses his lips for the first time on yours, sealing this promise he has been thinking about for months already. Your love might be forbidden, unconventional and desperate, but as a man who has never known tenderness in the first place, he believes that he wouldn’t ever share this with anyone else. There, watched by the ghosts of Halloween and the gentle light of the lanterns, lips sealed, Katakuri feels like the happiest man in the world.

[s-o-a-imagines]

Juice Hiding His Feelings

“Could you write something that goes along the story lines of Juice having feelings for the reader but is always with other girls to hide his feelings?”

She threw her head back in laughter, the hand that was holding her beer moving around with the force of it, causing a little bit to spill on the bar next to her. Juice laughed along, looking over to see how her whole face scrunched up when she laughed. She brought life into the room around them, a thought that Juice had been trying hard to push from his mind and not focus too much on.

“You’re so dumb,” she said on a breath when her laughter died down a bit. She wiped the corner of her eyes and looked over at him, a big smile still plastered on her face.

Juice shrugged a shoulder with a little smile, taking a sip of his beer. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Oh please, don’t act like you have any kind of charm,” she teased, nudging him a bit with her elbow.

“Right,” Juice looked over at her again, momentarily distracted by his own thoughts. It wasn’t anything new, it was just her. He had these weird, confusing feelings towards her that had been quietly building up inside him for an uncomfortable amount of time. He tried exceptionally hard to not have those feelings, because it was unfamiliar and he didn’t know what to do with them. They were misplaced, he knew that, and he knew he had to try harder to forget all about this shit he was thinking once and for all. She wasn’t here to be a crow eater or fuck around, she was just here to help out at the garage. They all trusted her and wanted her around, Juice wouldn’t let himself be the one who fucked that up. If only his goddamn libido would realize that sooner.

“Stop that,” she scowled in a teasing manner and Juice hadn’t even realized he was still looking at her. How long had it been? “It’s weird,” she laughed a little more and turned her head towards the door as it busted open to welcome a few large bikers who were bickering and making inappropriate jokes. 

“Lovely,” she remarked to Juice, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

“Bailey girl!” Chibs bellowed a little too loudly when they finally made their way to the bar. He threw his arm around her shoulders and mussed up the hair on the side of her head. “How the hell are ya?”

Bailey huffed, swatting his hand away but smiling throughout the exchange nonetheless. “Just peachy. Getting into more trouble, old man?”

Chibs hummed lowly, planting a rough kiss to the top of her head. “Maybe, maybe not, no need in worryin’ about it.”

Juice stood up then, straightening his kutte and nodding at Chibs. “I was just taking a little lunch break with Bailes,” he had been calling her that ever since she started work at the garage, and if they thought it was weird, no one ever said anything.

“I can see that,” Chibs sighed and moved his arm from around her to run in through his hair. “Gonna see if I can’t get out of here early. Long day,” with that, he said his goodbyes to the pair of them and slowly made his way over to the chapel, closing the door behind him.

Juice and Bailey watched his back as he went, then turned to look at each other once again. Bailey stood up from her stool so that she was in front of Juice, reaching her hand out to straighten out the side of his kutte, despite the fact that he had just done it. “Should probably get back to work so I can get out of here too,” she remarked, looking up at him.

Juice cleared his throat, trying not to think about how much he wanted her hands to stay on him. “Right,” he ran a hand over his mohawk and nodded. “I’ll be around if you need anythin’.”

Bailey snorted on a laugh and was already turning away to walk back into the garage. “Don’t be so weird. I know where you are,” she joked. And with that, she was gone, leaving Juice to stare after her.

_______________________________________________________________________

A few nights later they were all at the clubhouse, celebrating god knows what, but it was a hell of a celebration. Bass was pumping throughout the place, and clouds of smoke were left behind from everyone puffing on cigars and joints. Everyone was laughing and already too far gone to comprehend much of what was going on, but it didn’t matter.

“Juice!” he heard her voice call for him and he turned his head to see where it was coming from. She was standing by the pool table, a cue in her hand and Tig standing next to her. “Come here!”

Knowing he couldn’t say no and knowing there was nothing better to do, he made his way over until he was standing right next to her. So close that he could smell the alcohol on her breath.

She looked up at him and bumped him with her hip, her nose scrunching. “Hey player,” she greeted. “Up for a game?”

Juice chuckled under his breath, not sure how much she had to drink already, but knowing he was probably just as drunk – if not more so. “Whatever you say,” he grabbed his own cue and chalked it up a little.

“Good luck man,” Tig clapped his hand down on the younger man’s shoulder and shook his head. “She’s a shark, I’m tellin’ ya. Think she cheats.”

“Oh fuck you, you sore loser!” Bailey laughed, smacking Tig on the side of the head with her free hand. 

Once he left, Bailey raised an eyebrow and Juice, gesturing towards the table with her cue. “You’re up. Let’s see it,”

With that, their game had started. A game that consisted of laughter, teasing, Juice missing more than a couple shots, and Bailey making fun of him for sucking so much. They might have taken a few more shots of vodka that Tig came by occasionally to offer them, but if the alcohol was hitting them they chose not to acknowledge it.

It was getting down to the last few turns of the game, and they had somehow drifted closer together, even while they were shooting. Juice leaned down to take what looked like an easy shot, but ended up missing and cursing under his breath.

“Wow, Ortiz,” Bailey laughed. “Didn’t know about your unmatched pool skills. You should pull those out more often,” she teased.

He stood back up and when he faced her they were practically chest to chest. Neither of them said anything about it, and the alcohol made them feel warm inside.

“Don’t tease. It’s not nice,” Juice said with a goofy smile on his face, low enough so that only Bailey would hear. They were close enough that he didn’t need to speak much louder than that anyway.

“Oh really? Don’t be a 5 year old, Juice. It’s not a good look on you,” she shot back, somehow getting even closer to the man in front of her.

“Not a good look on you,” he mocked for lack of better words. His hand somehow found itself lifting up and running along the hair at her temple and going around to the back of her neck to tangle there. How did that happen?

If his heart was beating faster and harder, he would choose to blame that on the multiple shots they had taken. Not her. That wasn’t happening. He didn’t even like her, just as he had been telling himself for months.

Bailey’s lips parted, the teasing spark still alive in her eyes. They were inching closer and closer to each other and it was almost like torture. When they were practically breathing the same air, Baileys tongue slipped out almost unconsciously to wet her lower lip. They were so close that Juice felt it against his own mouth and had to suppress a sound that he was sure that he would embarrass himself with.

Finally, right before anything could happen, Juice snapped out of his trance. This was putting everything he worked towards and everything he talked himself down from to hell. He couldn’t do this. It wouldn’t be right. He shouldn’t feel this way about her. It was bad.

He jerked away when the realization hit him, tugging on the hair at the nape of Bailey’s neck as he did so. A scrunch formed between her brows and she tried not to look like a wounded puppy at the hands of the sudden rejection. “What-“ 

“I have to go,” Juice interrupted quickly “Sorry,” he explained shortly before letting go of her and hurrying away.

Bailey shook her head at the sudden change of whatever the hell was happening, and turned her head to follow in his direction. Juice had gone over to one of the couches, and leaned down to whisper in the ear of one of the crow eaters that was seated there. Bailey’s mouth opened a little in what felt like shock and maybe even hurt as she watched the scene play out in front of her. The crow eater giggled at whatever Juice had said before standing up and taking hold of his hand. He made quick eye contact with Bailey one more time before throwing his arm around the woman and walking her back to the dorm rooms.

Bailey had no idea what had just happened, but she felt like shit. She suddenly felt stupid and foolish, wondering if anyone else was paying attention to whatever the hell that was.

As if reading her thoughts, Chibs appeared at her side, shaking his head. “Sorry about that, lass. Kid doesn’t –“

“It’s fine,” she forced out a strained laugh and waved her hand. “Um, I actually have to get going, I’m waking up early for a shift tomorrow, so…” she trailed off, already making her away over to the door to get the hell out of there. Suddenly she felt so embarrassed that she couldn’t breathe and she knew her flushed cheeks were probably giving her away. “Bye Chibs, see you around.”

With that, she was gone, leaving Chibs with the sudden urge to beat the shit out of his idiot brother. He needed some straightening out, one way or another.

_____________________________________________________________________

It was the end of Bailey’s shift the next day, and she stood up straight, wiping the sweat off her brow and throwing her wrench in the toolbox next to her. She hadn’t seen Juice all day and had been actively avoiding him, which was working out for her so far. The only people she had talked to today were Half Sack and Jax for a few minutes. She was thankful that she didn’t have to deal with any of the shit from last night, or at least not yet.

Chibs was watching Bailey from the window of the clubhouse, and saw that Juice was sitting on the picnic table outside. The young man seemed to be watching her as well, not doing a very good job about being as subtle as he may have wanted.

With that, the older man made his way out of the clubhouse and across the parking lot into the garage where Bailey was working. “Hey girly,” he greeted in typical fashion.

She looked at him and smiled, taking a sip from her water bottle. “Hey, geezer. What’s up?”

Chibs took a quick glance at Juice, who was still trying to discreetly watch from the picnic table, then back at Bailey. She didn’t seem to notice anything, and was still looking under the hood of the car she was working on.

“Ya look good today,” he started, moving a little closer to her.

Things like this weren’t too out of the ordinary for Bailey, especially with Chibs and Tig, so she laughed a little at his comment. “Thank you, I know that the mechanic’s shirt must really do it for you.”

Chibs leaned next to her against the car and laughed as well. “That it does,” he continued, taking a deep breath. Hopefully she didn’t kick him in the balls or anything. Carefully, he reached out to tug on the ends of her hair before running the tips of his fingers through the hair that framed her face.

She took a slow look at him, raising her eyebrows. “What are you doing,” she said flatly.

“Just admiring ya,” Chibs stood so that he was over her and she was looking at him like he was crazy.

“Chibs, this is stupid. What’s wrong?” She reached up to put her hand on his wrist, his hand still in her hair.

He leaned down so that their faces were closer, and from across the lot, he heard a door slam loudly. He straightened up and smirked a little, taking a step back and shoving his hands in his pockets. “You should head home early, lass. I can cover yer shift.”

Bailey still looked more than a little confused, but let her face relax as she ran her hand over it. “Okay, whatever you say I guess. You’re so weird today,” she let out an exasperated laugh and shook her head, unbuttoning her shirt on her way to put it away and clock out.

When he stepped into the clubhouse to go to her locker, she was met by Juice’s brown eyes and a scowl. “Juice-“

“What? Didn’t expect to see me here?” His chest was practically heaving with his breaths and his fists were clenched. “That why you were planning on fucking Chibs in the garage?” his scowl deepened.

The comment and his sudden attitude set Bailey off and she pushed him backwards. “First of all, I was nowhere near fucking him, thank you very much. Secondly, you don’t have any right to be mad about who I choose or choose not to hook up with, quite frankly it’s none of your business! Don’t be such a dick, don’t act like you’re all macho and have some type of claim on me because you clearly don’t,” she started, her own chest heaving now. “You don’t get to act like an asshole and try telling me who I should or shouldn’t fuck, you don’t own me, and it’s clear that you want nothing else to do with me otherwise. You’re not in charge of me,” Bailey practically shouted, fuming. “You embarrassed me, Juice. It was fucked up,” she shook her head. “Don���t start acting like this, you’ll embarrass yourself too.”

“I never said-“

“Well you made it pretty damn obvious, didn’t you!?” She threw her hands up in the air. “Stop acting like this, I can fuck whoever-“

He took two large steps towards her and grabbed the back of her neck with one hand and tangled the other one in the hair at the back of her head. “Shut up,” he groaned before bringing his lips down on hers in a rough kiss. She responded in kind, kissing back just as hard and biting on his lower lip. He groaned at the feeling and tried to bring her as close to him as he possibly could. 

They were all over each other, their bodies practically melding together in the heat of it all. “You’re so annoying,” she complained against his lips.

He laughed and ran his tongue against hers. “You like it.”

Bailey let out a small moan against his mouth and he put his hands under her ass so that her legs lifted up to wrap around his waist. Juice let his feet carry them back to his room, and he pressed her against the door, grinding into her before they even went inside.

Bailey let out a harsh breath and a small whimper. “Don’t tease,” she warned.

They had barely made it inside the room when she was stripping his kutte off and he ripped open her half-buttoned work shirt. She gasped and practically tore his remaining clothing off while he planted rough kisses along the top of her chest. When he had finally gotten her out of all her clothes, he took a second to pause and look at her. Their breathing was hard and the anger was still like a living thing between them. Despite that, he shook his head and met her eyes again. Her cheeks were flushed red, her mouth swollen and lips parted.

“I can’t stand you,” he said, swallowing to wet his dry throat. “So beautiful,” he finished, running his finger down the side of her face and across the top of her flushed chest.

Bailey shook her head and let out a quick laugh. “Shut up, Ortiz,” she pulled him down into another kiss. Neither of them could believe what was happening, but all that mattered was that it finally was.

They spent the rest of the evening together, kissing, laughing and fucking. Nothing else seemed important, even when Bailey made fun of Juice for trying to bury himself in crow eaters and being such a pussy about his feelings.

“Doesn’t matter,” he had said, grabbing her ass so that she was mounted on top of him. “It’s you now. Always known that.”

[lideria]

Treat. | YangYang

Request: Can you do a blurb for yangyang of the first I love you?

Author’s Note: This came so late and is so short, I’m terribly sorry. We had a fight with my mom the day after I got the request because I was on computer too much (we’re in quarantine and I’m out of school, mom, what’d you really expect?) so I had to stay off my computer and write only after my mom would sleep :)) She really just gets so annoyed with me using the computer too much and this time it happened at the worst possible time aaah, again- I’m very sorry! Warnings: None, I think? Let me know!

Word Count: 1122

I hope you all enjoy!

The apartment is quiet, save for the low sounds of whatever it is that is playing on the TV.

The living room is messy with blankets all around, favorite snacks and drinks, some newly taken polaroids and the designated photo album of you two— for the sake of reliving memories. Lights are turned off except for the one in the hallway, so neither of you would have to tumble around to find your way. Night is young yet calm at 02:47 AM as you and your boyfriend of almost a year are stationed on the couch. His head is resting on your lap and you’re looking down at him as you play with his hair, and as he plays with yours.

Time to time YangYang’s head gets heavier on your lap as he drifts dangerously close to sleep, but he doesn’t want to. “Not yet,” as he said when you had asked him maybe half an hour ago. Understanding why was somehow difficult, seeing as he had almost fallen asleep numerous times at this point. In fact, he did fall asleep once. Let out a couple of soft snores but woke up when his hand started slipping away from your hair.

Even with his ever so slightly annoying (yet quite cute) stubbornness, he was a treat. The kind of person anyone would be happy to have in their life— not necessarily as a significant other, but as a friend or even an acquaintance. Mostly because his energy is unmatched. YangYang seems to be happy and eager and goofy around the clock, and it is only rarely that anyone would get to see him feeling down. A “happy ray of sunshine” as you would call him. He loved being that. You remember the smile that formed on his face after you called him that for the first time, before he told you it was his biggest goal to be that person everyone would feel genuinely happy around.

Sometimes on days like these, this goal would have him exhausted. He would keep trying to push himself further, try harder, to come up with yet another witty joke and to perfect the smile, the personality to break through all sadness and negativity. You had told him so many times that he had reached that goal because no one could stay sad, mad, angry or disappointed around him, but he just ended up saying that there was only room to grow. You suspected his stubbornness rooted from this as well, and you were pretty sure he was refusing to go sleep just so he could stay with you longer. So you two would have more time to yourselves before both of you would have to part ways when weekdays come, and you would not end up disappointed with your indoor date night.

You could never be disappointed though, because you love him. You love him exactly for who he is and what he stands for; for the experienced person he is.

Relationships that come with never-ending curiosity are hard to end up in. Speaking from experience, as you had never had the need to keep learning about and from your significant other as you did with YangYang. It felt like he was a well with no ending to it, yet every single drop of content was out there for the world to see. You were lucky enough to get to see the spring of this endless pit— to see the background. What his thought process is like, how he feels deep in his heart.

And the same went with him. He could see everything as well.

To be so transparent with someone without feeling vulnerable… It gave this fresh feeling that would wash over your heart first, before slowly washing over the rest of your chest and sure enough, your whole body. Your brain would feel like it was soaring through clear blue skies.

Perhaps it is freedom. Maybe security of being with a person that knows you so well, that won’t judge you without consideration.

At first you did not know how to call these feelings— not that, but you rather did not know what these meant as a whole. You would have to keep reflecting on them to make any sense of it all. Then, when you were having a heart to heart with Kun about this mix of feelings (as he was the person to have a talk when you needed outer reflection) he just smiled, shrugged and went “Well, that sounds a lot like love if you ask me,”

It made sense. It still makes sense, if not more now. Because you could do so much as only look at him and it would feel like you were given the whole universe.

“You’re thinking a lot.” YangYang mumbles and successfully pulls you out of the deep hole your brain had pushed you into. He pulls his hand off your hair and grabs yours that is resting on his head to place them on his stomach. “Something wrong?”

“No.” The answer came a bit too soon from you, so he furrowed his brows. “You sure?”

“I love you.” Words escape from your lips without any preparation or alarm. His eyes widen and yours surely do, too. You take a breath.

Two.

Three.

You skip the fourth one.

Somehow you still collect the courage to speak. “Say something, anything so I don’t embarrass myself to death.”

He laughs. It annoys you a little, but at the same time— it couldn’t be so bad if he was laughing, could it?

Then he straightens up a little, until he can look you in the eyes from much, much closer. Light reflects off his eyes in little specks. You can see yourself in them, and just how alarmed you look. Unlike you, he looks relaxed. Confident. Like he was waiting for this to happen. You do not expect it, but he quickly leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth softly. “I love you too.”

Something drops in your chest, but somehow it feels happy and light. He leans back again, holding himself steady with his arm. “I’d argue I love you more so,” A smug grin appears on his face and you hate him for that, because you know he is just trying to piss you off at this point. “You know that’s not true.”

“Eh, don’t know about that one.” The grin grows wider and brighter. “We have our whole lives to repeat it again and again— plenty of time to compete.” Stubborn, but a treat.

You narrow your eyes as the fresh feeling washes over your heart again, this time mixed with a different kind of excitement. “Oh, you’re so on.”

[nixniivalis]

♦ // teach shawn how to slow dance, neraine :|

Acts of Intimacy

♦ : Slow dancing

|| @mainevcnt​​ ||

Shawn talked a lot. Words flew out of his mouth like they were going out of style. In the past ten hours since she had met him Neraine learned he was very good at talking. Standing on the sideline, running commentary as she taught six-foot-and-some-pocket-change guys a box step. She had to tell him to spit out his gum, twice. He was a fighter, a man with bloody knuckles who put his foot in other people’s faces for a living. It was a real pity he didn’t go into comedic improv, Shakespearean theater, or Broadway. He couldn’t do movies but he was born for the stage. Shawn needed a crowd. He thrived, survived off the energy of an audience. His charisma was natural, his gesture animated, and his confidence unmatchable. No shame, no fear, only a desperate need for the spotlight. However, theater required teamwork and Shawn was too competitive. He was champion, heartbreaker, the greatest of all time-- the ‘wrestling’ worked for him. Appropriate fuel for his arrogance. 

The gymnasium laid in low light. Everyone cleared-out twenty, forty minutes ago. The building otherwise empty but for a janitorial staff vacuuming the halls of the performance center. In the room over, Neraine heard the sound of weights hitting the floor. Some other soul getting their late night reps in. Celia put her hands on her hips. The shadows casted odd angles on his face. She lifted an eyebrow, waiting for Shawn to run out of steam. It took a second, all goofy grins, pure charm with golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The magic lost on her unimpressed stare. 

Shawn ran his mouth, yes, yes, he knew how to dance, he could do a box step in his sleep. What about a do-si-do? He can pole dance and he was sure to rub it in that she couldn’t. Of course, Shawn preformed all these movies, as silly, ridiculous, or raunchy as they were. Hips gyrations and flailing arms spoke of a well-coordinated man. He had body awareness and a seamless grace. He’d be an easy student if he’d shut-up. 

“Are you done?” Neraine demanded. “I don’t have all night.” 

“Yes, yes, please, go ahead,” Shawn replied, bowing to her with a flourish, gesturing for her to bestow her wisdom upon him. 

She smirked, corner of her lip upturning. Neraine offered her hand to Shawn, palm upturned. He seized it in his own and slipped his arm around her waist, yanking her close. His grin was pure cheese, teeth, lifted eyebrows, a burning smolder to melt the hearts of tasteless women the world over. Shawn spun her around into a quick-skip step and jaunted them around the gymnasium. Big smile, singing some unrhythmic song as he swept her into the lively dance. Neraine choked on laughter, mouth pressed thin and breathing out her nose hard. Neraine twisted under his arm, spinning out, slowing their movement. She put her foot down, forced Shawn to a stand still. Neraine pulled him back and he shuffled into position this time. His palm polite on her waist and her hand scooped into his. Back straight, all prim and proper. 

“Is it out of your system?” Neraine asked him. Shawn nodded, biting his lip, and Neraine could see the physical effort needed to reign in his smart remark. He was stiff through the shoulders, all hard lines and tension. The uncertain, nervousness, of a man who might be out of his depth despite talking like he was an olympic swimmer-- just a little. It’s not like she’s won professional competitions doing this. 

Neraine interlaced their fingers. Lips parted, and gaze softened, she turned to watch their hands. The intricate, delicate movements of knuckles and digits, tangled, rising, falling. Neraine hummed, vague and old tunes, light, fleeting as memories. The leitmotif of a ballet from her childhood, hidden in the corps, a little girl dressed as an egg blue fairy. Beyond the sway and twisted of their arms. Neraine stepped into him. Lead him into an undefined step, she moved him. Capturing the idea of an audience in rapt attention to a romantic ballad. The awkward wedding shuffle of people who thought they understood a waltz. All emotion to supplant their technical failure. Or, at least, Shawn staring at her like she was nuts. It was all layers, masks, games, artificially generated feelings, pure expression. 

“It’s not about moving yourself,” Neraine murmured. She wound her arm around his shoulder, resting her cheek against his collarbone. “You need to learn to move someone else.”

She parted from him, captured both of his hands. This time she guided him back into the waltz position. A comfortable, but not distant, ways apart. His hand now on her opposite hip and Neraine holding him. She stepped into Shawn off her left foot. He tripped on her toes but with gentle coaxing and some firm verbal commands she talked him into the stride. It was all reversed, backwards for him and she saw him churning his brain to flip instinct. She guided him into long steps --not too long-- and a rise-fall, with the beat she muttered beneath her breath.. Worked them into the proper clip for the dance. Pivot on your toes, be lighter, you’re stomping. 

“I thought I was supposed to lead--” Shawn protested. 

“And let you ruin my dance?” Neraine quipped in return. “I don’t think so.”

Despite this protest she lifted her hand and Shawn spun her beneath his arm. Neraine reset their position, letting him lead this time. She guided him through the flourishes, the competition winning pivots, and all the fancy tricks not necessarily in the canon. A sweep with her draped over his arm, she didn’t need to teach him the lift. Then the elegant finale, now parted he bowed to her and she curtsied like she wasn’t in yoga pants. Neraine straightened, catching her breath and rolling out her shoulders. She eyed Shawn, the air conditioner clicked on, cold air struck her dry lips. Blood stricken down his face, red, red, crimson, and coating the white ring mat. The phone screen lighting the dark back hallway like a beacon. The corporate assistant on lunch break chattering about who Neraine just talked back to. Neraine averted her gaze. 

“That’s enough for tonight,” She said, jaw setting. She passed Shawn and picked-up her bag from beside the gym door. She slung it over her shoulders and glanced back towards him, “See you tomorrow.” 

The door swung closed behind her, groaning on the hinge. Neraine’s footsteps echoed down the tile halls. A forty minute ride home on longstrips of interstates on her mind. She emerged out the back and walked around the building. Past the well-shaped shrubs and into the rear parking lot. That morning she had parked her bike beneath a cedar tree. The streetlights burned white, casting glowing circles of moths and static. Hot summer night, sweat stricken down her back as she zipped-up her jacket. Neraine mounted, hand resting on the throttle. She heaved a sigh, it’d been a long day. 

[maxhoemo]

tw; murder and getting off on it

It was 9:00 in the summer. The sun hadn’t quite gone down yet and a happy pop song played through Ian Carter’s car stereo. He smiled to himself as he turned off. He was driving with intent. It wasn’t often he got to do what he was about to do. Only once every few months. 

Some people in his position might worry about being caught, but Ian was too arrogant for that. He was sure he left enough time in between to make that impossible. Besides, nobody would ever suspect someone like him.

This was LA. There were hundreds of corners one could pick up a prostitute if they really wanted to and Ian tried not to hit the same spot twice. On a whim, Ian decided he was in the mood for a boy. It had been a while since he’d been with a cute guy. 

As he turned down the backstreet it didn’t take long for him to spot a few. But one stood out to him. He knew instantly he had to be the one. He was so vibrant. His dark sun tan stood in contrast to his bright green eyes. He smiled at Ian as his car came to a stop. A few other guys lingered behind him, looking at his car just as hopefully but his mind was already made up. He rolled down his window and flashed his disarming grin.

“Ya’ wanna go for a ride?” He asked, looking directly into those green eyes. 

“Yeah.”

Ian unlocked the door and the guy climbed right in. 

“Do you have a place?” he asked, and Ian noticed he must not be from around here. He had a thick accent.

“I know a place. How much?”

“Eighty five dollars.”

“That’s pretty cheap. You could charge a lot more, you know.”

He just shrugged and changed the station on the radio.

“Got a name?”

“Max. You?”

“Ian. You’ve got like a British accent or something. How’d you end up in LA?”

Max made a face, crinkling up his nose. “I’m not British! I’m Australian....” His fingers nervously played with the hem of his t-shirt, Ian waited to see if maybe he would say more, but he didn’t.

“You live with your family?”

“They’re back home... I kind of... Ran away....”

No family here. No connections. The poor kid probably wouldn’t even end up being reported missing. Sure, he was probably a missing person back in Australia but those retard investigators never crossed boarders. Ian was far more dedicated to his life’s calling than any of them were.

“Ever think about going back home?”

“I would if I could, Ian.”

“How old are you now?”

“20″

“You know, Max... I feel bad.”

“Don’t. I need the money.”

“I have an addiction. It’s like... I can’t stop...”

“It’s okay, Ian. It really is. You seem much more normal and well adjusted than most of the guys who pick me up. I don’t think you should be ashamed.”

Max was so trusting. Everything that was going to happen would be this guy’s own fault. This kid wasn’t smart enough to keep himself out of trouble. And his family probably thought he was dead anyways. Ian chuckled to himself. Killing whores was so easy, it was ridiculous. 

“W-what’s so funny?” Max sounded a little weary now.

“Just thinking of all the things I wanna do to you,” he answered calmly.

“Oh....” Max gave a nervous smile, fidgeting with the bracelet he wore.

Ian couldn’t help but notice. Besides the cheap clothes on his back, it was the only thing he had on him. It was obvious there was nothing in his pockets. Getting this kid to tell him about himself was like pulling teeth, but Ian liked having information. It made things easier. “Someone special give you that?” he asked.

“Oh... No....” Max answered, without looking up. Instead, he kept looking at the bracelet. Which Ian stole a close glance at once his hand was moved. It was one of those cheap hemp-rope ones with a little round pendant in the middle. Red, with a black silhouette of a kangaroo. “Got it from a tourist shop before I ran away... Reminds me of home...” he smiled a little to himself.

Ian pulled into a seedy looking motel with a gravel driveway. Max was used to these types of places, but something about this one gave him the creeps. There were several shady looking characters hanging around outside. 

“I’m gonna go park. Pay for the room.” Ian handed Max a $20 bill. He thought it was a little strange, but figured Ian wanted to save time or something.... 

He payed at the little window and was handed a key. On his way to the room, he couldn’t help but notice the eyes of the men outside following him. Feeling a sudden tinge of fear, he ran over to Ian and handed him the key. “Let’s get in there....”

“Scared?” Ian laughed.

“I don’t know....” Max said truthfully. He wasn’t sure what he felt, but he wanted to be inside.

As the door closed behind him, Ian saw Max visibly relax. “Do you wanna just start then?” Max asked.

“Hang on. I want to just look at you...” Ian narrowed his eyes at the young man.

“Why?”

But Ian didn’t answer. His mind had already wandered away. Max definitely had a natural kind of beauty. He’d be even more beautiful as a corpse. God, Ian was getting hard thinking about it. All the different positions he could imagine Max’s body. A knife through his chest. Or a rope around his neck. Maybe drowned in the bathtub. “Take your clothes off...” he breathed.

It took a second for Max to even realize Ian had spoken again. Slowly, he peeled off his thin t-shirt and cut-off shorts. 

“Didn’t peg you for the nipple piercings type....”

“Mmm... Wasn’t my choice...” Max replied quietly, letting his underwear fall down around his ankles.

“You have a perfect body... You could be a model.”

“Thanks... When I ran away, I thought I could be like... A movie star or something.”

Ian smiled, taking out his phone. “Yeah you do look great on camera...”

Max smiled, despite himself.

“Say cheese.” Max instead made a goofy face, making Ian laugh before snapping and putting the device back into his pocket.

“Do you still wanna do that?”

“I don’t know... I just hope, one day, I can get out of...This....”

Ian smiled, but not for the reason Max probably thought. He pulled Max close to him and connected their lips. Running his hands up and down Max’s body as they kissed. 

“Get in bed...” Ian instructed. And Max obeyed, climbing onto the bed and waiting further instruction.

Ian stripped only his bottom half, leaving his shirt on before approaching Max. 

He got on top of him, pinning his wrists down against the mattress. “W-wait...” Max squeaked out. “Aren’t you going to wear a condom?”

“Don’t worry about it...”

“I know you’re probably clean, but....”

“Trust me...” Ian chuckled. “It really won’t make a difference.”

Max’s clients always wore condoms. Usually because they didn’t want to catch anything from him, but Max felt like he couldn’t really do anything about it. If he went back short again he’d be in big trouble.... His thoughts were interrupted and he let out a pained cry as Ian entered him dry.

“Ooowe!! You’re hurting me!”

“You’re so tight!”

“Get the fuck off me! I’m serious!”

“Keep your mouth shut!” Ian snapped, looking the prostitute straight in the eyes. “Be quiet! Or you’re not getting anything!”

Despite Max’s instincts, he gave into the man’s threat. He did his best to suppress his sounds of pain. Just waiting for it to be over.

“Max...” Ian hissed. Taunting his victims was such an unbelievable turn-on. “Tell me what a disgusting whore you are.”

Max looked up at him with such an adorably confused face. He looked betrayed. His wrists were still so tightly in Ian’s grip he thought he might break them. He had just told him to be quiet, and was now demanding he spoke. Clearly, Max didn’t know what he should do. “It’s not a trick! Say it!”

“I-I’m.... I’m a whore...”

“A disgusting whore!” Ian clarified, his sickeningly sweet grin growing wider. “And you will be for the rest of your life.”

Max didn’t respond. At least not with words. He glared at him and turned away. Max didn’t know if this was just rough sex but he wasn’t enjoying it and he wouldn’t pretend to! It was his job but he didn’t have to like it!

He was content to just lay there and wait for it to be over. Until he felt a tight grip around his throat.

“Look at me....” Ian hissed. He loved the feeling of the young man’s fragile body in his strong hands. The power he had, restricting the very essence of life itself from entering him. More than anything though, he loved seeing the panic in those pretty green eyes. Max tried to struggle, but Ian knew it was no use. 

It was such a turn on! He thrusted deeper and deeper into Max as he continued to squeeze. He loved the sounds he made as he tried to breath. He was so pathetic! His attempts at fighting were weak and useless. 

Max choked and fought to get free, but as Ian continued he could feel him losing the energy. Tears ran down Max’s soft cheeks. The boy knew what was happening.

 Ian felt himself getting closer and closer. As he watched the life drain from Max’s once vibrant face. 

Finally, as Max’s body stopped moving, and the last spark left his eyes. His face going limp and his jaw hanging open, Ian came. His entire body shook as he orgasmed. The absolute power-rush was unmatchable. 

He collapse against the dead boy’s body, staying there for a couple minutes. Why did bodies have to rot? He would keep this one forever if he could. He would always remember it though...

When he got up and began dressing again, he looked over at the bed and admired his handy-work. He could swear, he could still see the fear in Max’s lifeless face.

He wondered if anyone would even notice he was gone. Would the sleazy motel manager even bother calling the cops? Or would he just dump the body and not mention it? 

Ian took a photo, swiping back and forth between the goofy, living Max and his corpse. In less than an hour he had completely taken everything that made the young man who he was. He was just a body now. An inanimate object. That kind of power was incredible. Before making his exit, Ian decided to take one last souvenir. 

Stepping over to the bed, he untied the bracelet from around Max’s wrist. The same pathetic, weak, malnourished little wrist he’d easily restrained him by. Smirking, he slipped it into his pocket. The little slut had used it to remind him of home, but now it would be Ian’s reminder of his most satisfying kill yet.   

[draftwood]

A Black Friday Carol

OR

'Twas the Week After Midwest Supply

It’s Christmas season. Snow has fallen, lights have been strung and twinkle festively, Starbucks is the butt of countless protests because they haven’t depicted the nativity scene directly on their disposable coffee cups. So, if you’ll all gather 'round, pour yourself a pint, and get cozy, I have a holiday story to tell.

It was the day after Thanksgiving, already a whole week ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. My wife and children were cosily watching holiday cartoons, reveling in the memories of the feast the night before, but I? I was filled not with cranberries and dressing, but with holiday cheer! There was a certain someone, someone who is very close to me, for whom I wanted to get the perfect gift. This someone was a person I like to call myself. And, I knew just what I wanted from me for Christmas: a sack FULL of christmas base malt! I could already see the look on my face, imagining myself realizing what was under the tree, all the hours of joy it would bring me. Maybe I’d pick up a couple ounces of hops as stocking stuffers even! Wouldn’t I be excited Christmas morning!

Midwest Supply, those Santas of men and women, were having a sale. With door busters, discounts, and [don’t forget to think of something else alliterative]! The first 25 people would receive a free gift. How exciting! How festive! So, for the sake of that special someone, and, I admit it, a bit for myself, hoping I’d be one of the lucky few! I dragged myself away from my family and braved the cold.

After waiting in the cold for what seemed like 10s of minutes, I threw that sack of 2-row over my shoulder in a way that would have made Kris Kringle himself proud! I trudged through the snow-covered showroom to the register, happily grabbing more gifts as I stomped my way to the front. When my purchase was completed, the cashier, with a festive twinkle in his eye, handed me something magical. An envelope! “Don’t open it yet, you don’t want to ruin Christmas by peeking, do you?” he said with a smile, then leaned closer. “It’s a surprise! Come back next Friday to find out what it is!”

Now, I’m a patient person, so I waited calmly. Even as my friends and loved ones BEGGED me to open the envelope and find out what was inside, I said no! It just wouldn’t be in the holiday spirit to peak. I brought it to the office, where I could see it every day, and placed it on my desk. “Maybe it’s a brew pot!” My co-worker said. “Maybe!” I said, with a mischievous note in my voice. “Or maybe it’s a conical fermenter!” “Could be” I responded. “I bet it’s a racking cane!” “It might be!”

Finally, the day arrived! December 6th had come! I ran downstairs in my pajamas, so excited to find out what Midwest Supply had gotten me! Then, I ran back upstairs and dressed in real clothes, like an adult. But then, I ran out to the car! Excitedly, I drove myself to… the office. I mean, I work. Come on. But at lunch, I ran BACK out to the car and drove to St. Louis Park, soon to be there!

But as I entered the store, something had changed! Gone were the festive smiles and twinkling eyes, replaced by dull, gray, drudgery. There sat the cashier, attempting to warm himself by a fire so small that it looked like one coal. But he couldn’t replenish it, he explained, for the coal box was kept under lock and key in the back room. With sadness in his eyes, the cashier took my envelope and opened it up, trying to hide what was written on the sheet from me. Silently, he dug through a sad little box, searching for my prize.

And what do you think Midwest Supply gave me that day? What had I waited in the snow for? What had I spent my lunch break on? What had I made two trips for?

A pint glass. The seasoned homebrewer’s equivalent to a lump of coal. A glass, to go with the myriad other unmatched pieces of glassware on my shelf. Not even an ounce of Fuggle.

What did I do to deserve this? What was the lesson, Midwest Supply? Was I on your naughty list? I’ve been good, I’ve been a loyal customer, and I always share my homebrew! Have I been a naughty brewer?! What should I have done differently?

Look, I got a goofy story out of this, and I’m not really that upset, but in all seriousness, what the hell Midwest? If they had just handed me a glass day of the sale, I’d have been grateful. I don't want to complain about being given free stuff. I like free stuff! But man, I really do feel like making customers come back into the store with the promise of a reward only to be handed something that, I think it's fair to say, anyone who went through all that wouldn't want, is a crappy way of promoting your business. I like free stuff, but I had to work for this. So please, if you value my business, then value my time.

[aurora-the-kunoichi]

Here is the second installment of a story I’m writing for my friend @blossom-skies with her OC Jen. I hope she and you enjoy.

Meeting Ms. Jones

Part 2

“What did that madman do to you?” Casey whispered uncomfortably letting his fingers timidly run over the skin of her forearms.  He shuttered at the new texture, his sister once soft skin felt bumpy and uneven under his finger tips.

“I don’t know Casey, I haven’t looked in a mirror yet so I don’t know the extent of it all besides the very obvious changes. All I know is Baxter Stockman did it and it hurt like hell taking several days to complete.”

Jen could see the uncertainty in his gentle eyes, but this was her brother Casey and she knew no matter what he’d love her. Keeping her arms outstretched she allowed her brother to touch her skin examining her mutation. Finding her focus being pulled from her brother as he lifted his signature hockey mask from his face to get a better look, Jen’s improved eye sight trained in on the two gawking turtles. The story behind these two must be a wild one.

“Um Cas…… an introduction would be nice.” Jen coughed gently pulling her arms from his grasp.

Casey blinked up at his sister’s new complexion and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Um yeah sorry Jen, um.. these are my friends Leonardo in the blue and Raphael in the Red. Leo and Raph this is my little sister Jennifer.”

“Jen.” She swiftly remarked. “Please call me Jen.”

“Yes, she prefers to be called Jen, ……anyways…There are two more just outside the door watching our backs and Donnie might be able to help you, which reminds me we need to get out of here now. I have no doubt they’ll be sending reinforcements here shortly.”

Jen watched the two turtles’ wave when being introduced never taking their eyes from her body. They looked just as apprehensive as her brother but seemed a bit more intrigued with her tail and skin, almost spellbound by it.

Soon Casey’s arm was around her waist urging her forward towards the obliterated door and to her must needed freedom. Jen’s feet moved for a few steps and but her leg muscles seized under the sudden movement making her tumble forward.  Before she hit the floor two large green arms shot out catching her frame hoisting her up bridal style. Unconsciously her arms shot up around the thick neck now supporting her bodyweight and caught the blue pools of Leonardo’s gaze. All of a sudden she became hyper aware of her new tail that hung haphazardly at his feet. She didn’t want him to trip as they started to run towards the exit so she wrapped the end of her tail around his muscled thigh keeping it away from his feet. If she wasn’t mistaken she could have sworn the large turtle shivered at the sensation of her tail curling around his thick leg.

“I’m sorry Jen but this might get a bit bumpy so just hold on ok?” It was Jen’s turn to shiver at the sound of his deep voice. Being so close to his chest the sound vibrated the plates of his plastron making her skin feel funny, suddenly warm. With a burst of sterile white light, they entered into the main lab and a fight was already in progress. As her eyes adjusted to the sudden surge of light Jen could see two more turtles fighting guards. One was taller and leaner then all four of them with a purple mask and the smallest but just as bulky at Raphael wore orange. Four fucking turtles, these mutants were what Karari and Stockman was talk about. Casey had some explaining to do when and if they got out of here.

Without warning an explosion rang just behind them sending Leonardo, Raphael and Jen sprawling forward slamming into several pieces of expensive equipment. Rolling onto her back Jen groaned at the new ache that were now added to the others, she let her head turn and felt her body tense in distress.

Several of the guards were now on top of Leonardo and Raphael pinning them to the floor using some sort of taser bar. Each tip of the weapon crackled with some sort of electricity and it was being forced through their bodied. She had only known them for a few minutes but the overwhelming urge to protect them burst in her chest.Anger Jen had never felt before roared within her making her see red as the two turtles who had helped her from her cage writhed and arched screaming in pain.

Her once weak limbs surged to life bringing her to her feet and charged screaming at the top of her lungs. With inhuman strength Jen launched herself into the fray slamming three guards free of Leonardo. Reaching down she grabbed a dropped taser and pressed the tip to each of the last three making them tense screaming in agony before falling motionless at the large turtle’s feet.

Leo shook his head bringing himself back from the brink of unconsciousness looking up at Casey’s sister who was now attacking the guards that had Raphael pinned down sending an electric current through him. His eyes widened getting to his feet watching her fight with such ferocity he could have sworn the frail form he was just carrying now had inhuman strength. Not only was she tossing the guards around like rag dolls, her tail moved on its own accord punching and curling around them and tossing them across the room. It was like she was going berserk.It was actually quite amazing seeing her adapt so quickly to her new mutation, whatever it might be. But now was not the time to ponder such things. Rushing forward Leo helped Jen pull the last of the guards from his younger brother and pulled him to his feet.

“Don, Mike! Let’s go now!” Leo called out his orders over the roaring sound of the battle.

The unchecked rage that coursed through Jen’s body made everything a semi coherent blur, she couldn’t focus on anything besides helping the two turtles. Nothing else mattered and from what she could comprehend she was a force to be reckoned with. Her strength was unmatched as she lifted the guards from the shells of the turtles tossing them as if they were bags of cotton candy. Where was this strength coming from?

Leonardo came up beside her placing his large hand on the small of her back helping up Raphael who was now staring up at her with excited wonderment. Leo’s warm touch seemed to bring her back out of her self induced rage startling her back to reality.

“That was….wow… I mean…uh thanks.” Raphael stammered giving her an awkward fist bump to her shoulder before running after his two other brothers and Casey.

Casey held his hand out for his sister and felt a little relieved at the display he had just witnessed. The explosion set him in the opposite direction as her, Leo and Raph. He watched her sail from Leo’s arm crashing into some equipment.There was a moment of terror that seized him when a swarm of guards overcame the two mutant turtles and he thought for sure she would be taken again. But when she shot up like a rocket and attacked those guards like they were nothing, a swarm of pride hit him right in the chest. His little sister was on a war path and he sort of felt sorry for the idiots as they flew through the air in comical slow motion. The dumbfounded looks on Raph and Leo mad him chuckle a little seeing the guys in awe of someone who could very well be stronger then them. He must have been wearing a goofy grin because when Jen’s three fingered hand found his five she gave him a bright smile that only Jen could produce. He thought she might have enjoyed that a little bit.

Dodging several more guards and a hail of gun fire Jen followed the four mutant turtles and her brother from the lab and quickly piled into a large garbage truck. The tall purple one got behind the wheel and turned over the loud engine and sent the large vehicle barreling forward away from her prison.

Now out of danger Leo took a few deep breaths and settled his pulsing heartbeat. They almost didn’t make it out of there and if wasn’t for Jen’s new mutation Raph and himself could have been taken as well.The lingering question still remained though, why did they take her?  From what Casey told them when he came to the lair hysterical for their help she had been missing for 2 days.

He had gone to visit her after a long shift and found her door smashed in and her apartment ransacked. With the cooperation of Chief Vincent and the New York City police department and Donnie’s smarts they were able to deduce Karai and Baxter Stockman were behind her abduction. Unfortunately, it had taken them nearly 2 weeks to find were Jennifer was being held against her will. After circumventing the security and entering through the back door they had managed to find her cell when Donnie hacked into their system.  Thankfully everyone made it out alive and relatively unharmed, well mostly.

Looking back at Casey and Jen from the passenger seat. Casey had her in his arms hugging his sister as if she would disappear right from within his arms. From the looks of it she was nearly naked with only a black pair of underwear that dipped under her new flexible tail that now protruded from just below her lower back and a matching black bra to cover her breasts. Her skin was the best part in his eyes. It was vibrant blue and purples with flecks of green and from what her could tell looked to be almost chameleon. Running from just above the base of her tail looked like scutes that formed a straight line to the tip of her curled tail. Her feet were bare exposing her feet and her human toes were long gone replaced by two large toes and her five fingers reduced to three. Almost identical to theirs. Her long dark brown hair still remained on her head and her eyes still looked human, but he could see a flash of silver behind the pupils. When Casey had shown them a picture of her Leo had immediately thought she was attractive for a human but this change she underwent was amazing in his eyes, it’s only enhanced her features. She was beautiful.

Jen finally pulled from Casey’s tight grasp and stepped back and felt her throat constrict. No longer fighting to stay alive she was able to concentrate on her new appearance. Her eyes moved to her skin, now able to see it in the light. Her pink human flesh was now replaced by bumpy purple and blue and green flecked reptile skin. Looking up at her brother, terrified she let out a sob. She remembered her tail and it appeared in front of her uncurling to its full length, the tip resting in her new three fingered hands.

“Casey?”

Her brothers’ hands moved under her chin cupping her cheeks making her look at him, “It’s ok Jen, we’ll figure something out. Donnie will figure something out.”

At the mention of his name Donatello turned from the road and gave her a quick scan with his warm brown eyes. “I’ll do my best Casey, I promise. The first thing I need to find out is what Stockman mutated you with and from what I can tell your body mutated from more than one animal. Chameleon is one from my guess.”

A light bulb went off in Leo head remembering the cell she was being held in and they were unable to see her. “Yeah when we got into her cell we couldn’t see her, but then out of nowhere she just materialized. I have a feeling she can make her skin change color to blend in with her surroundings just like a chameleon.” Leo stood from his seat and made his way back to Jen who was watching him intently.  

Jen took a moment to regain her composer as Leonardo stood from his seat making his way back to them. His long muscled legs shifted his hips with each powerful stride making him look like a dangerous animal stalking its prey. His blue eyes bore down on her as he approached. Jen had to remind herself to breath and gulped in a breath of air when he stopped just before her his immense chest within grasp.

“Can you do that again?” he asked calmly never taking his eyes form hers.

“D-do what again?”

“Change the pigment of your skin to blend in?”

Jen looked around at her brother and the other two turtles as they hovered closer waiting to see if she was actually able to change her skin color at will.

“Yeah that would be awesome.” The orange banded turtle turned smiled up at his older brother Raphael.

“I-I don’t know if I can?” Jen tried to remember how she did it. She could recollect her skin acting funny when she was scared. She had stepped back into the shadows of her cell and found they couldn’t see her when they entered.

“Here.” She heard Leo rumble softly taking her hand pressing it to the top plates of his plastron. They felt like very soft leather, the texture pleasing to her fingertips. Unconsciously she curled her fingers lightly scratching her nails on his chest.

“See if you can match the color of my chest.”

Swallowing dryly her eyes darted up to his intense blues eyes catching a quick glimpse before resettling on his chest. Closing her eyes she concentrated pressing her palm all the way down against him, stepping just a little closer. She took a long deep breath catching the faint scent of mint tea and some sort of oil. The pleasant smell made her chest warm a bit before rushing to her cheeks.

She found it a little difficult to concentrate with everyone staring at her and the poor suspension of the giant vehicle didn’t help things either.

“Come one Jen.” The familiar voice of her brother broke through her jumbled mind. She focused on his voice and it helped her slow her racing pulse. Slowly her skin started to vaguely tingle and then she heard everyone gasp and felt Leonardo’s chest bounce with his quickened breathing. Opening her eyes, she followed suit seeing her once purple and blue hand match the browns of his plastron.

Part One

[writingwitchly]

A Potter never accepts a defeat

Word count: 1,8k

Warning: NONE OF THAT HERE, THANK YOU

A/N: For my gem wife, @beaubcxton. Darling, this is my idea of that special date they never got to have. I hope you like it, tho it’ll never be as good as anything you write, but the angel that is @hermione-who fixed it with her magic. @reggieblck calling you too, sweetie <3.

Pairing: Jily

***

A Potter never accepts a defeat.

He had kept trying, trying, trying.

He was on the right path. 

***

The trees’ naked branches were perfectly still, the castles’ cavities as silent as the approaching Christmas holiday allowed. There was no wind, and thank Merlin, because James Potter was about to ice on spot, even inside the dormitory.

His eyes scanned the grounds, the earth muffled under the thick layer of last night’s frozen rain, and he smiled a goofy smile. He tore his gaze from the window, and swung around to get his muffles before sprinting down the wooden stairs. His hand grabbed the last newel post, almost ripping it from its place, to facilitate his change in direction as he zoomed toward the exit.

The common room was warm from the crackling fire in the chimney, the regular murmured conversations and ocasional laughs formed a pleasant buzzing. James thought that the place had never been this wonderful. But today, everything was.

“Where are you running to?”

Peter’s sarcastic question hung in the air, but it did not matter. Everybody knew the answer. 

Caught in his excitement, James didn’t notice Marlene’s sideways smile as she shouted at him to right his glasses, nor did he hear Kingsley's imprecations as they nearly collided before the Fat Lady’s portrait. He didn’t laugh at Remus’ hot chocolate mug almost ending up on the floor as he suddenly appeared in the hallway, nor did he take time to stuck his tongue out to a very flustered Filch -- “No running in the corridors, you duke of limbs!”

In less time than it would have costed Sirius to enrage Professor McGonagall, James’ boots were drowned in the outside snow, his eyes frantic behind his glasses in search of a spot of color among the whiteness. A red spot, to be precise.

“Good morning Potter.”

She was to his right, a foot behind him, grinning like a four year old who’d just won a game of hide and seek.

His heart skipped a bit.

“‘morning Evans.” His tongue was as numb as the rest of his body.

The clarity around made her cheeks look like a rose’s petals, and James sucked in a deep breath at the sight of her red lips.

Her smile widened as she stepped forward. “You almost look decent today.”

He wanted to answer. Really. Something witty maybe. But he could have opened and closed his mouth a thousand times, nothing was going to come out of it.

Merlin, she was gorgeous.

Lily gently tilted her head, amused by the boy’s lack of his usual readiness. “Are we going to stay here for long? I’m becoming an ice cube.” 

James shook his head, and premorously offered her his arm, making her laugh.

They began their stroll in silence, her looking at the sky in innocent distraction, him holding her as close as he could without being awkward. The way was empty, except for a couple of squirrels that seemed eager to follow them while rolling in the snow.

The temperature was not as low anymore, and the boy assumed it was because the sun was on its way to the roof of the sky. Or was it because of the growing heat on his face? 

If she had been there to watch the scene -- which seemed to come right out of a Peynett drawing -- Euphemia Potter would have told her husband that ‘They look very much in love.’ After an amused look from Fleamont, she would have added ‘The squirrels, of course,’ and then hid her malicious smile -- the one Sirius had taught her -- behind her handkerchief.

But the Potter parents were not here.

It was just the two of them, on a date, finally.

James and Lily.

And the squirrels, of course.

“So, Potter...” He glanced sideways at her perfect profile. Her words, when out of her mouth, turned into graceful clouds. “Justify yourself for making me skip my saturday morning visit to the library when it’s below zero outside.”

The first draught of the day sent chills running down his spine. Or maybe it was her grip, tightening delicately.

James cleared his throat.

“Reading too much isn’t good for your eyesight, you know.” She couldn’t hold back a snort, one of those she used to offer him when he widely flirted with her, but she was ready to decline. Except this time she hadn’t. “It’s true! Plus, it’s not good for your mood, breathing book dust all day long. You’d turn into a red headed Moony. We don’t want you to wear unmatching sox and become addicted to chocolate, do we?”

Her laugh was a bubbly hint of spring in this early stage of winter. James could have sworn she sounded like flowers blooming.

“So what should I become addicted to, Potter?”

The mischievous glint in the green of her eyes was something that had only very recently appeared, in the last months. 

He was going to fall back into muteness, embarrassed by what this question could mean. After all, he assumed that it was what she wanted: to have the last word.

But a Potter never accepts a defeat.

“Learned to be tricky, didn’t you?”

“Yes. From a real expert.” Hadn’t she been so close, James could have thought he’d daydreamed about her wink. “So?”

What could he do but smile?

“So you talk too much, Evans. I say you should make your feet work more and your tongue rest.” Lily raised her eyebrows, and her look followed the direction in which he was pointing. “See the bridge? Shouldn’t be more than thirty meters away. The last to get there is a-”

But she had already sprinted forward, ready as she always was to win a competition, the two squirrels trailing behind her with happy squeaking.

It took James a good fraction of second to stop gazing at the flames of her hair against the white landscape, and to move from his position. She had gained some advance, but he could make it before her easily.

A Potter never accepts a defeat.

He felt the air burn in his lungs, his muscles awakening after a week without Quidditch practice, and the adrenaline shooting him forward like one of Dumbledore’s spells. He heard her broken breathing, some meters before him, and pushed harder on the ground, his boots making the snow creak like broken shell nuts.

He was not more than three meters away from her…

Her inhaling waves were stressed.

A Potter never accepts a defeat.

Two meters…

She glanced behind her shoulder, and let out a high-pitched cry of surprise.

A Potter never accepts a defeat.

One meter…

Anybody else would have surrendered, preferring to let their heart recover a normal beat instead of winning a stupid race.

A Potter never accepts a defeat.

When they were just a few bounces away from the river, James gave one last effort.

But, right when he could have bypassed her, his legs slowed down, and a moment later she was perched on the first of the three stone stairs that started the bridge.

A Potter never accepts a defeat.

But a Potter knows to choose the right victory.

Holding her ribs, bent in two, struggling to inhale any air in between her chuckling, she was the best view James had ever had the chance to see.

“Nice run, Evans.” He was quicker than her to stabilize his breath, obviously. His hair was ruffled, he pushed his glasses up with a finger that would have been all sweaty, in another season. “Let’s see if you can do it again, shall we?”

“Shut up, Potter.” She muttered. “You talk too much.”

He bursted in a loud laughter, and stepped forward to offer her his help.

Had the squirrels not been there, maybe nothing special would have happened that morning. But the little animals found themselves right on the spot where James’ feet was set to land, and he lost his balance in an attempt to avoid them at the last moment.

He was going to fall sideways, but Lily was fast in catching his arms, pulling him near her. They found each other nose to nose, close enough to inhale the same air.

James’ heartbeat had climbed up to his ears.

“Look.” Lily whispered with a shy smirk. “I’m taller than you.”

Her eyes were magnets that attracted his.

“Only because you’re on a step, Evans.”

This was his very breathless attempt to cool his nerves down.

There was a pause. They didn’t notice the icy wind anymore.

“I’ve dreamt of this for quite some time, you know.”

“What? Being taller than me?”

“No.” She leaned forward, and James’ mouth became incredibly itchy. “This.”

Her lips were as soft at the snowflakes that were falling from the sky, sprinkling their hair with Nature’s pureness. The skin of her face brushed against his, her hands getting lost in his hair.

He had dreamt about it countless times, inflicted his wild imaginations to his friends for years, depicted the most hopeful scenarios, but nothing of what he had pictured was worthy of being compared to this moment.

Eyes closed, James kissed her back, circling her waist with his hands, tenderly pressing her body to his. A cherubs’ choir had set up a grandiose show in his mind.

On the border of the path, the two squirrels had stopped chasing each other. Their little eyes were fixed on the young couple, their muzzles shaking, as if in approval. One of them even seemed to sketch a malicious smile.

James felt Lily’s cold wrists on the back of his neck, her smile against his.

It was evident that the snow was falling, now, that they should probably head back to the castle if they didn’t want to be buried.

But before that...

“What do you think about this, Evans? Want to withdraw your affirmation?”

He was referring to the time she had told him he was probably awful at kissing.

A lost sun ray reflected in her white teeth.

“I guess you’re an ok kisser, Potter.”

“I know r- What? No. No way. I am an outstanding kisser. You were just too amazed to realize it.”

Her hum of indecision got a smile out of him.

“I’m really not sure, Potter. I think you’re just average.”

“And I’m telling you, you’re wrong.”

“Oh, really. Then what? It’s my word against yours.” Lily whispered.

She was teasing him, and it turned his inside into a big knot.

He could have shrugged, rolled his eyes.

But a Potter never accepts a defeat.

“I say have the right to a second round, to prove you wrong.”

The squirrels turned their back on the river and sped toward their tree, leaving the place entirely still. The mass of clouds above them separated, letting the sun bath this white parcel of the world, the wind sat down, waiting to see.

As James’ mouth found Lily’s again, the winter seemed to hold its breath.

[weeklyship]

An alternate ending to TDC

In which everything is the same, minus the kiss scene that should have never happened, but we missed some of the “behind the scenes” stuff while Thomas was gone, so some of it went a little differently than Thomas thinks.

I haven’t read the books in a long time, so this is more off of the movies than anything.

•••

The last thing he sees as the plane starts to rise again is Minho standing over him, shaking him, his voice fading in and out. He struggles to keep his eyes open, trying to focus on what Minho is saying, but he can’t. His eyelids flutter shut, and he sees Teresa falling into empty space, surrounded by flames. His eyes snap open again, and he sees the concerned faces of those who survived, those who were left.

Thomas was a disappointment whether he lived or died, and because of this, he slowly lets his eyes close again.Thomas succumbs to his pain. The sound of his friends shouts fades out, and the world falls away.

•••

He wakes some time later, in a tent. He can feel the breeze and smell the fresh air in his lungs; it was something he hadn’t felt since the glade, something he wasn’t sure he was going to feel again.

He wonders, for a second, if he might not be alive, but he grips the sheets up in his fist tight and he knows that somehow he came out the other side.

Suddenly his memory comes back to him, and they hit Thomas like a bus. He sits straight up, and pain shoots up his side.

Thomas winces as he slowly pulls his shirt up, carefully lifting it over the bloodstained gauze that covers his bullet wound. He thinks about peeling back the tape, assessing the damage, but he decides not to.

Finally, he looks around. He can hear the sound of people laughing, talking, somewhere in the distance, but he is completely alone. He heaves a sigh as he gets on his feet; he won’t see who he wants to, but it would be nice to see Minho, Fry, Harris, Brenda, or even Gally. Maybe a familiar face would cheer him up.

Thomas stumbles out of his tent, his bare feet sinking into the sand of the beach. He wonders briefly where his shoes went, but he can find them later. He revels in the feeling of the sand beneath his toes, the wind in his hair. He wishes- well, it doesn’t matter what he wishes. He can’t fix the past.

He follows the sound of the voices, traveling what looks like a well-worn path around the tents. First he sees the fire, and then all the people. Thomas freezes in his tracks, a confused smile of amazement on his face.

Minho sees him first, standing up quickly. Then Brenda, then Harris, Frypan, Gally, the others. And then they’re all coming towards him, people he wasn’t sure had survived with him. And then Minho hugs him, and Thomas closes his eyes, and his smile grows even bigger, because they did it. Teresa and Newt- they didn’t die for no reason, they died to save Minho, and to save Thomas, and that was something to be proud of.

But then he opens his eyes, as Minho steps away, and right there, standing half behind Gally, is Newt. He has his hand on Gally’s shoulder, and his other arm is clutching his own stomach like it’s hard for him to stand up straight. And the grin on his face is unmatchable by any of the others, which grows a little as Thomas locks eyes with him, and Thomas wonders just how ridiculous he looks right now. He’s looking right at a ghost, and suddenly Thomas’ face falls.

He knew it was too good to be true. Either he, and all the others, had died, or Thomas had yet to wake up.

And so he gives out more hugs, mumbling his thanks, letting everything go by in a blur, because Thomas isn’t awake anymore, he knows that he isn’t, so none of this matters. But just in case he is awake, he doesn’t take his eyes off of Newt.

And so Thomas gets to Gally, who just pats him on the back firmly. And then Gally steps away from Newt, who has started to look concerned, most likely from the staredown Thomas is giving him, and Newt wobbles on his feet. Without thinking, Thomas shoots out his hand to catch his arm, and Newt clings on, breathing heavy. And after a few seconds, where Thomas looks at the hand clutching his arm, his hand clutching Newt’s arm, he hears a whispy chuckle. “Thanks, Tommy.”

And his eyes snap back up, and he locks eyes with his dead friend, and slowly Thomas shakes his head. “I watched you die. How- what-” and he cuts himself off, shaking his head again. “I watched you die,” he repeats.

Newt laughs again, for real this time, but winces a little as he does it. “Brenda, she got there right as you left, with the serum. I missed my heart by a few centimeters with the knife; my breathing was shallow, but I was still breathing. You ran away, but Minho and Fry- they checked. They checked to make sure. I was still breathing, Tommy. They left the knife in, they gave me the serum, and it was too late, but it knocked me out and gave them hope. They transported me into the back of the plane, tied me up. They probably would’ve dropped me back into the city, because the serum was too late and I wouldn’t have been worth saving otherwise, but then they found you. And when they finally got you back into the plane, you were clutching this little vial in your hand.”

That was too much talking for him, though. Newt was out of breath again, clutching at his side, looking around for help. Thomas helped him hobble over to a log, supporting him as he lowered himself down to sit. Brenda came over, standing a few feet away with her arms crossed. “We all heard what Teresa said about your blood, about it saving me, about it being able to save Newt. That maybe it wasn’t too late for him, if you would just go back. You were clutching the vial in your hand like a lifeline, even though you thought he was dead. I took a gamble, and while the others helped you stop bleeding, I gave him the serum from your vial.” Thomas raised his eyes to meet hers, not fully understanding.

“Thomas, I watched the black recede through his veins, I watched the color come back to his face, I watched him jolt back to life. He rolled onto his side, he coughed up all the disease from his lungs.” She gave a small, disbelieving laugh, and shook her head. “Thomas, I watched him come back from the brink of death. You saved his life. And then I had to take the knife out, and patch him up, and pray to some higher being that he actually survived the whole ordeal, because I wouldn’t have been able to look you in the face after you woke up and tell you ‘I’m sorry, you almost saved him, but he didn’t pull through.’ And, so, I made sure he made it. After all, you made sure we all made it.”

A hush fell over all of them, and Thomas took a second to study each and every one of their faces. All these people that he knew, all these people he had fought for and beside, all these people that he apparently had not disappointed. He looks at Newt last, because the words are still sinking in, Newt is here and Newt is alive and Thomas had only partially failed, and Newt gives a small, sad smile.

“I’m sorry about your girlfriend, Tommy.” And at that, Thomas finally believes that it’s true. Newt is here, with him, in this safe space. In their safe haven.

Thomas grins, a giant, goofy grin, just for Newt, and says, “She wasn’t my girlfriend, but it’ll be alright.” Of course, it still hurts. Betrayal aside, she was one of Thomas’ best friends, and at the end of the day, she still saved him. So of course, of course, it still hurts. But when Newt smiles back at him, one big, goofy grin in return, and shrugs his shoulders, he thinks that maybe his words ring true, and they will all be alright.

[ficsnroses]

Valentines Day - Keanu Reeves x Reader

word count : 1.6k

warnings : All fluff!

summary : Keanu buys roses for his wife and daughter on Valentines day.

a/n : Hello hello! It’s been a crazy week, but thank you for bearing with me and being so wonderful. thankfully I found this in my docs from February. Please be nice, I wrote it a while ago. Enjoy!

The aroma of spring bound blooms and mild honeydew filter through the barely cracked kitchen windows; the smell of steamed milk, a compliment to the golden stream of earthy ristretto trickles into your special glass mug. The comforting notes of  floral cocoa engulf the kitchen space, your morning ritual playing out to habit the same as each morning, with just one attribute missing,

Keanu, your husband.

You’d awakened to the usual morning glimmering; silhouettes of sharp LA mountains against the early lavender sky unconcealed through your bedroom window. His snores normally muted a natural lullaby in your ears as you wake, the weight of his bulky arm mindlessly draped on your waist absent today in the wake of the morning glow. He hadn’t left a note, or any messages to explain his whereabouts.

It was strange of him indeed, although your thoughts tried not to play too much into it. He’d always find his way back to you, nevertheless. You’d never had a doubt to it.

This particular winter morning was one you would have preferred to spend with him, albeit. 

The wake of the rosy sky purifying the bedroom walls,

the pastel hues golden and crisp in the afterglow of rise,

You’d hug him close until his eyes would awaken, joining you in a Valentines bliss of your own, bodies entwined, his gentle breaths in harmony to your own as you ease together- an ode to the love you’d grown over the years.

You’d often wake up together just the same, perfectly in sync with the one you cherished most. You knew his clumsy mind better than anyone; perhaps he’d mistaken the day and forgotten. You couldn’t find yourself to be too upset over him not being with you right in this moment. Love day or not, Keanu would never fail to make you feel as if the most loved, valued woman on the planet. His love was a special kind; a symphony of its own. Unmatched, where he kept you so seamlessly, flawlessly indulged in all forms of delight.

You’d been whisked in a haze of your own thoughts, unaware to the jingle of keys chiming through the front door, followed by a cautious drift of heavy footsteps. The dark roast had just kissed your taste buds in a piping warm embrace, as the sound of your favourite deep baritone currenting through the room.

“Morning, beautiful.” His greeting soothes, voice deep, yet laced with the gentleness, the admiration and care he always put to you. “Wasn’t sure if you’d be awake yet.” Smiling, broad footsteps fall dense as he comes up behind, the teaspoon stirring your coffee barely pulled out as you turn to face his way.

“I’ve-” Your words cease just on your lips, a gentle smile finding shape to sight of him in front of you; hair messy with a gleam in his mocha orbs, goofy smile evident on his love drunk features. In his hands, he holds a beautiful bouquet of deep, red velvet roses, blooming petals vibrant yet soft, adorned in beautiful green leaves and stems, full of life to the brim.

“Happy Valentines Day, baby.” A kiss places on your lips, the bouquet positioned to your arms, dewy fresh scent of his cologne newly applied pecked to his skin.

Smiling, you barely contain a squeal, gushed over the man you had the pleasure of calling yours. With the roses lively and garden-fresh, the scent of blossoming fragrance exudes your senses, a welcome of brilliance so sweet, revitalising;

a mirror to the man who’d brought them for you.

“Ke, they’re beautiful.” You whisper, awestruck. With your arms draped around his neck, the smell of his smokey shampoo lingers ever so slight; your hold on  him close, his arms finding refuge around your waist. Setting the arrangement aside to the granite kitchen counter, your yearn for an embrace proves satisfied, hand moving gently, affectionately cupping his bearded cheeks- his beauty rugged, yet so comforting; familiar. 

The man who’d make the beauty of a million roses fall short. 

“You weren’t there when I woke up, I thought maybe you forgot.” Whispering, your thumb soothes the apple of his cheek, your body pulled close in the bulk of his arms around you. Comforting, his face nuzzles into your locks, resting a top your head as you snuggle into his chest, the calm beat of his heart a lull above any other.

“I wanted to get the freshest ones, so I went a little early.” Chuckling, his hefty palms rub a soothe to the small of your back, gentle kisses peppered mindlessly to your forehead and temple as he pleases. In the wake of the golden morning, you hold each other close, near in a delicate hold, gently swaying in the middle of the kitchen floors. “I love you.” His chest hums, your head pulling back slight to gaze him in his earthy eyes. To the gentle rhythm of the morning rise, your fingers tangle in his dark locks, and he leans into your touch, a small kiss placed to your wrist. “Thank you for giving me this beautiful life.” He murmurs, head moving to nestle into your shoulder, a few supple, tender kisses stippled to the satin dip of your neck.

With your soft fingers soothing through his dark brown mane, you relish in feeling him so close, each inch of him finding solace within you, bodies practically melting together as one. “I love you too.” You giggle, arms tightening further to his much larger frame, eyes glossing behind him to the granite counter where one,

single, pink rose sits,

embellished in a wrap of its own, beautifully radiant.

“A pink rose?” Curious, you pull back slight, brows furrowed to the sight of the lone rose, altered from the bouquet he’d given you. His lips beam a knowing smile, fingers lacing with yours in a hold filled with affection.

“Can’t give flowers to only one of my favourite girls.” He chuckles, a final kiss, brief to your lips as he moves to collect the single flower. “Is she up yet?” Inquiring, his fingers work the transparent wrapping perfectly in place, setting the few strands of pearly white baby’s breath petals, impeccably framed around the rose. Your heart must have practically melted right on spot, in awe with your husband, who also happened to be the most wonderful, loving, incredible father to your 4-year-old daughter, Mya.

“She should be, it’s 9:00am.” Pondering aloud, your rallying fingers work to pour a cup of coffee for Keanu, absentmindedly eyeing a kitchen cupboard for a glass vase to embellish your gifted bouquet in. Within the next moment, the tiny thud of footsteps peppering down the stairs is heard, Mya finally finding her way down to you both. In her hands, she secures her favourite teddy bear, drowsy eyes barely adjusting to the morning light as a small yawn emits her mouth. Keanu’s eyes light up instantly to the sight of her; something so beautiful, so perfect, someone who would own the wholeness of his heart forever. 

His little girl, who deserved the entire world, and more.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” You smile, leaning down to place a kiss to her bedhead matted hair, as Keanu moves to her.

Her lips barely whisper, small morning voice smooth, yet slightly rasped with a yawn. “Hi mommy, hi daddy.” Her tired eyes task to stay fully open, already wanting nothing more than to snuggle up with you and Keanu for a morning nap.

Careful, Keanu crouches down in front of her, bestowing just to where he can meet her leveled eyes. You watch, slightly leaned on the granite counter, a content smile prominent to your lips as you watch the two loves of your life interact. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” He smiles, stowing a small stray of her hair behind her ear. She smiles to his touch, lips curled to a grinning giggle when he makes a goofy face to joy her.

With a gratified sigh, Keanu holds the rose to his daughter, watching her little, joyful eyes light to the sight of it’s splendour. “Happy Valentines day, princess.” 

Attentive, her tiny fingers grasp the rose, a barely contained gasp fleeing her lips, silly smile so precious as you watch. You watch your husband cup the side of her head gently, placing an endearing kiss to her forehead, his smile never falling. “Daddy loves you so much. Always.”

“It’s so pretty, daddy!” She gasps, toying with the petals in astonishment. “Its like the one Belle has!” With a small squeal, she jumps in excitement, wrapping her arms around her father’s neck in a thankful hug. “Thank you, daddy.” Smiling, her small laugh giggles to the feel of Keanu’s beard tickling her cheek, his durable arms holding her close as he picks her up; another kiss from his lips decorated to her rosy cheek.

“Daddy, your hair is messy.” She titters, toying with his coffee strands as you join them, arms coming to wrap about Keanu’s bicep, tucking yourself into his side. The mild window breeze brushes against your skin again, lips planting a small, brief kiss to Mya’s arm. To the top of your head, Keanu plants a small kiss into your hair, fulfilled with the two girls that matter most tucked into his secure embrace; where he’d shield them safe forever. 

“Huh, it kinda is.” You chuckle, ruffling his hair in glee.

“Can I braid it?” She squeaks, excited. With a roll of his eyes, Keanu ultimately gives in, unable to say no those hopeful orbs. For her, he’d endure a thousand braids and pretty pink polka dot bows. For her, anything at all would fall short.

In the quiet of the morning, the three of you stand close, embraced in a proximity that triumphed above all. The smell of mild honeydew and petal blooms ballets through the air yet again, and you wrap your arms around the love of your life a little firmer now, the smell of fresh velvet rose blossoms and his woody pined cologne,

so comforting, the feel of his presence; his love,

a treat of its own.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :) 

[daniactuallysnuffledthatpopcorn]

All They Wanted

Summary: Two pop punk fans meet at a concert and spend a little too much time in a public toilet together.

Rating: Mature

Genre: AU + smut

Word Count: 2.9K

[A/N] Written for @phanfichallenge, the Phandom Writing Challenge 7: the Songfic challenge. Song: All I Want by A Day to Remember. Beta’d by Sam (thank you!!).

“Thanks.” Phil held his new shirt to his chest as he moved through the masses, away from the merch table. In a quiet spot by the cloakroom he pulled his jumper over his head and stuffed it in his backpack. When he looked up to pick up his new shirt, he found a boy watching him. He averted his gaze when their eyes met, but Phil had already seen him.

“Enjoying the view?” He joked, face flushing.

Fortunately, the boy picked up on his attitude, “Yeah, I have a big thing for skinny white boys.”

Phil couldn’t help but laugh at that and he shook his head as he pulled the shirt on. “Well, I have a thing for voyeurs, so you’re in luck.”

“I don’t seem to be in luck, you’ve put your shirt on.”

Okay, so this guy was cute and joking around with him, but was this flirting or just friendly banter? Phil was exceptionally bad at distinguishing the two.

When he moved over to the counter to hand his bag off, the boy followed at a comfortable distance.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked when Phil turned back around to face him.

Okay, so flirting it is.

“Definitely.”

As they made their way to the bar, Phil kept stealing glances at the boy next to him; at the way his curls kept falling into his eyes and how a few lines of a tattoo peeked out of his shirt when he moved.

They both ordered a beer and sat down on the bar stools. “What’s your name?” Phil asked, leaning back and bringing the glass to his lips.

“Dan.”

“I’m Phil. Nice to meet you.”

“You too. Is this your first A Day To Remember show?”

“Nah, I followed them around for a few weeks last summer.”

“In the States?”

“Yeah, it was cool.”

“Wow, mate. This is my first time seeing them, but I appear to be in the presence of a connoisseur.”

Phil laughed, “I like the tunes. I don’t really get involved with anything else surrounding them, to be honest.”

As if on cue, a mass of loudly chattering fans walked past them, making him unable to hear the other until they’d passed. Phil liked loud music, but he wasn’t much into the loud devotees surrounding it. He watched the group leave before turning his attention back to Dan.

“So, you’re one of those guys who stands in the back and nods along?”

“Usually, though sometimes I switch things up and stand by the bar instead.”

“A show not moshed is a show not enjoyed.”

Phil laughed and clinked their glasses together, “Cheers to that.”

“Seriously, come in the pit with me tonight. I’ll show you a good time.”

“Show me a good time, huh?”

“Yep, however you want to take that.” Dan raised his eyebrows suggestively, but only managed to keep his composure for a second before breaking into a goofy grin.

“I think I’ll take you up on that.”

--

As the doors opened and the masses started to flood into the hall, the two men left their glasses deserted and followed the mob. When they were almost pushed away from each other, Phil reached out, grabbed Dan’s hand, and pulled him back to him. “Stay with me. You haven’t showed me a good time yet.” Phil shouted over the music, leaning in close to Dan.

Dan led them to the side of the crowd, fairly close to the stage. “Perfect entry into the pit later,” he explained. They bopped their heads along to the warmup tracks and watched stage techs set up the instruments for the opening act.

It wasn’t until they’d been standing around for nearly ten minutes that Phil realised neither had actually let go of the other’s hand. He glanced to his side for a moment, but Dan was distracted by a scuffle happening a few yards away from them. Their hands were squeezed in between their bodies where they were pushed together by the crowds, and Phil wondered if he should let go.

He didn’t.

--

Dan kept quite still during the opening act, jumping a few times but otherwise staying in place. He half-heartedly mouthed along to a few of the choruses but he clearly wasn’t too familiar with the band. Phil had looked them up on Spotify the day before, but they weren’t his cup of tea. Bands were always better live though, and he had to admit he was enjoying their performance. The fact that the front man was cute helped too.

A small mosh pit had opened up near the front of the audience. Phil eyed it nervously as the fans slammed in to each other and pushed each other around. When Dan caught him looking he squeezed his hand and grinned at him.

So, he had realised they were still holding hands too.

--

Phil was grateful for his earplugs when the main band finally came on stage. Someone next to him jumped on his foot in excitement and the first crowdsurfer was already being hoisted up. They launched into the first song and Phil gave Dan a questioning look. Not yet, Dan mouthed in response.

And so, Phil lost himself in the music. He jumped along and shouted the words and reached his free hand towards the stage, eyes trained on his favourite band. He was being pushed and shoved from all sides but he barely noticed. The room around him had faded away and there was just him, the people on stage, and the music that had saved his life countless times.

When he felt a tug on his hand he was almost annoyed for being dragged out of his daze. Then he realised what was happening, and followed Dan to the pit. He couldn’t hear him, but he was pretty sure Dan shouted, “Let’s go!” at him before throwing himself right into the middle of the action. Phil hesitantly stood by the side for a few seconds, taking deep breaths and squaring his shoulders, until he was ready to jump in.

He was immediately absorbed into the movement, pushed forwards and backwards and into bystanders. It was an unpredictable rhythm that he quickly got used to and moved along with. This would definitely leave him with some painful bruises the next day, but God, he felt so alive.

He found himself cheering along when Jeremey McKinnon, the band’s lead singer, shouted something at the moshers. For those few seconds of relative calm, he made eye contact with Dan and found the other looking back at him. They were both sporting wide grins and lively eyes, and they shared something unspoken in that short moment before they were pushed onwards.

--

Halfway through the set, Phil was dragged out of the pit, to the front of the audience. There, safe from the pushing and grabbing but still high on adrenaline, he pulled Dan to him and kissed him.

Dan responded immediately, moving his hand through the hair on the back of Phil’s head and opening his mouth.

It was a moment unmatched by anything Phil had ever felt before. Surrounded by fans shouting the words to one of his favourite songs back at the band on stage, sweaty bodies too close together, all senses heightened. The flashing lights pierced through his eyelids and kept his heart beating at top speed.

Dan didn’t give him the chance to recover and bring his heart rate down to a healthy speed; the moment they broke apart, he was already pulling him back to the pit. Phil felt high on life, jumping in without hesitation this time and falling right back into the rhythm of the mosh pit.

--

The show went by too fast.

Phil hurt all over from moshing, but it was all worth it by the time the band went into the encore and the pit thinned out and eventually disappeared. He grabbed Dan’s hand. The two of them smiled at each other for a moment before joining the rows near the front of the stage to enjoy the final songs.

Gigs were entirely different this way. He was used to staying in approximately the same place and having some drinks. He’d never expected moshing and making out to feel so right and so perfect, especially after he’d rolled his eyes at kissing couples before plenty of times.

They stayed and watched the techs clear the stage after the show. Dan picked up some confetti and stuffed it in his pocket, and Phil sat down amidst the red paper. Behind them the masses of fans cleared the room and left them with the crew, who was breaking up the decor. The night was coming to a close, and Phil wasn’t sure what was going to be left of him and Dan after they left this hall.

“Ready to go?” Dan offered him his hand and pulled Phil to his feet. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Was this an invitation?

“Yeah, me too.”

He wasn’t, really. But he’d take any excuse he could get to spend more time with Dan at this point.

“I know this great burger place just a few streets over, should be open at this hour. I’ve never seen them closed.”

“Alright, yeah let’s go.”

Their feet left trails in the confetti littered around and Phil couldn’t help but follow Dan’s example from before: he picked some up and put it in his pocket.

“I have a book at home,” Dan said, “of just little summaries of gigs and confetti and pictures. I love remembering the good times I’ve had.”

Phil’s mind wandered, wondering if Dan had done this before. Had taken on a random stranger and strung them along, just for the night.

They picked up their belongings from the cloak room, and Phil was grateful to have a jacket in his backpack when they stepped outside. It was chilly and dark, a starless sky stretching out over their heads with only the luminous signs on the storefronts around them to light the streets.

As they walked further into residential neighbourhoods and left the city centre behind, it got darker around them. A heavy silence had settled over them, and it didn’t lift until the bright lights from a burger joint lit up in front of them. The shop looked out of place, as if it had been picked up from its original spot and dumped in a random place, which just happened to be smackdab in the middle of a quiet suburban street.

Going inside was like stepping into a different dimension. There were some people casually sat at the bar drinking coffee, and two women were sharing some chips in one of the booths. Nothing gave away the fact that it was close to midnight on a Thursday evening.

They each ordered a burger at the register and chose a table as far from the other people as they could. Phil finally took a moment to properly look at Dan for the first time since they’d shared those beers before the gig. His hair was curlier now from sweating in the mosh pit, and he looked tired but content. Phil didn’t even want to know what he looked like himself.

“How was your night?” Dan asked, leaning back in the booth with one arm casually swung over the back off the sofa.

“Fucking wild.” Phil said before he could filter his speech.

Dan broke into a toothy grin, “Yeah, same. I didn’t get to crowdsurf, but I got to kiss the hottest guy at the whole event, so I think I won.”

Without missing a beat Phil said, “Yeah, but I participated in my first mosh pit and kissed the cutest guy at the event.”

Their feet brushed together under the table, sending a shiver up Phil’s spine. Their eyes met and in that moment, they seemed to somehow think the same thing. Making sure no one was watching them, they snuck out of their booth and into the bathroom.

The men’s bathroom was grim, to say the least. It was just about the last place Phil in his right mind would want to have an intense make-out session, but it was the only available place right now and he was desperate. The moment the door was locked behind them, he had Dan with his back pressed against the door. Their lips met in the middle and for a few minutes there was nothing but that kiss and Dan’s hands grabbing at Phil’s shirt.

Then the last part of his brain that was concerned about hygiene went out the door and he was pulling at Dan’s belt. Dan was immediately impatient, pushing Phil’s hands away and undoing his jeans himself, pushing them halfway down his thighs. His eagerness was briefly eased as Phil started kissing his neck, going down from just under his jaw to the hem of his shirt, pulling it aside to expose more skin. He let his hands run down Dan’s torso as he sank to his knees.

Dan, realising what was happening, sighed and leaned his head back against the door. His hands tangled in Phil’s hair, as the other wrapped his fingers around his cock and pumped up and down a few times before taking the tip into his mouth.

He had one hand at the base of Dan’s erection, the other on his slim hip. His nails were digging into the skin on his abdomen, but neither of them really noticed.

Dan was clearly trying to keep quiet, muffling his moans and biting his lip. Every so often he suddenly took a deep breath, as though he just realised he hadn’t been breathing for a while. Phil was going mildly insane on the floor, his own cock painfully pressing against the zipper of his jeans. He paused what he was doing momentarily to readjust it into a less unpleasant position. This gave Dan just enough time to collect himself a little and whisper a “fuck,” under his breath.

Then Phil’s mouth was on him again and he let out a whimper, caught off guard.

Phil could feel that he was getting close, his legs were trembling a little and his abdomen was all tensed up. “Phil,” the boy said softly.

Phil didn’t respond, instead tightening his grip on Dan’s hip and taking him deeper into his mouth. Dan shivered as he involuntarily bucked his hips. He came hard, fingernails grazing Phil’s head and jaw going slack. Phil worked him through it. He moved his hand along the base where his mouth couldn’t reach.

When Dan took a shaky breath, his first normal breath in a few minutes, Phil swallowed and got to his feet.

“God, you’re hot.”

Dan grinned as he pulled his trousers back up and buckled his belt, “Let me catch my breath. I’ll return the favour.”

“Nah, this one was on the house. Before the gig you told me you’d show me a good time and you did. Thanks for that.” Phil stretched out his stiff limbs and rolled his neck. He was still uncomfortably hard, but the high was over, making him realise where he was and what he was doing. The restaurant staff may not have cared or noticed before, but if they kept the only toilet occupied for even longer people might start getting suspicious.

“Pretty sure you repaid that three times over just now.”

They did their bests to clean themselves up in the dirty bathroom stall before going back out. No one in the restaurant seemed to care much about what had just transpired right under their noses. They didn’t even bat an eye as Dan and Phil suspiciously walked out of the single men’s bathroom together and back to their booth. Their food had arrived while they’d been away, but the burgers were still warm.

Phil flushed his mouth out with some coke and inconspicuously sloshed it around his mouth for a few seconds.  

“Remember when I said I’d never made out with anyone at a concert before?” Dan asked. He was speaking quietly enough that Phil knew he was about to say something about what they’d just done.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ve never gotten a blowjob in a bathroom at a burger place before.”

“Especially not at midnight on a Thursday, I’m sure.”

“Whereas you have, of course, given plenty of blowjobs on Thursday nights in public toilets.”

“Yeah, this was my third.”

--

They sat on the curb as they waited for their Ubers. Neither of them had brought up their impending separation, and Phil wasn’t about to. A car turned the corner and slowed to a stop in front of them. “Uber for Daniel?”

The two of them got to their feet, and Dan pulled Phil into a hug, “Thanks for tonight.”

“This was the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

They shared a short kiss under the streetlight in front of the strangest burger place Phil had ever been to and when they pulled apart Dan immediately got into the car. “Call me.” He said.

Phil raised his eyebrows, “But I-”

“Check your pocket.” Dan gave him one last smile, then closed the door. As the car drove off, Phil patted down his pockets and found a napkin in the left one of his coat. A string of numbers was scribbled in a corner in blue ink. He grinned to himself, clutching the paper in his hand as he realised that Dan intended on returning the favour sooner rather than later.

[hellospunkiebrewster]

Fathers - A Duty Sideshot

Author’s note: I’m so incredibly sorry that there is no new Flight Risk today. This sidetracked the hell out of me as I started to put my final touches on the chapter. All the baby fever fics for Father’s Day got to me and in my natural fashion I couldn’t be too happy about them. This is a tribute to all the different kinds of fathers in someone’s life. Real, biological, adoptive, foster, step, overprotective, intimidating, goofy, serious, or fun. I cried so much writing this and I thought I put Duty behind me, but it’s so obvious I haven’t. If you haven’t ready my series Duty, it’s here:

Part I: Déjà Vu - Part II: Hopelessly Cold - Part III: Bitterness - Part IV: Rage - Part V: Promises - Part VI: Oath - Part VII: Dysphoria - Part VIII: Toska - Part IX: Credence - Part X: Unconditional

Summary: Eleanor reflects on the fathers she’s had over the years and what each of them has taught her.

Perma-tags: @madaraism, @mfackenthal, @blackcatkita, @never-ending-choices, @darley1101, @pbchoicesobsessed, @flyawayblue56

Tags (I tagged those of you who were tagged throughout Duty): @queencatherynerhys, @theroyalweisme, @crayziimaginations, @boneandfur, @lizeboredom, @gardeningourmet, @hopefulmoonobject, @hamulau

Eleanor Charlotte Rhys adored each one of the men she considered a father to her; she loved each one differently and no one more than another. It was fun, having so many fathers to call hers even if her past was marked with sadness and loss. They managed to pull her from it but still maintain an acknowledgement that it existed and deserved to never be forgotten. She was thankful for that because to do so would be a disservice to one of the greatest men to ever walk the earth. But still, each of them had something unique to offer and a valuable lesson to teach her, and for that she was grateful.

Uncle Leo. A man tossed from his country because of his heart. Even her own mother had a difficult time looking him in the eye. But Ellie saw something more, something special in the way he looked at the world around him. It was her Uncle Leo who taught her to follow her dreams and that they were limitless even when she felt so weighed down by the crown. Being sworn to the throne at not even the age of five was terrifying and rarely afforded Ellie the time to breathe and so it was one summer in her early teens that Ellie persuaded her mother to allow her to spend a month in the states with her Uncle Leo.

Even though her royal guard surrounded her every moment of the trip, from the time she stepped out of the limo onto the tarmac of the Cordonian airport, to the moment she returned to the palace, Eleanor had never felt so free, so normal. The sand of the beautiful beach her uncle’s house shared squished between her toes in a way she had never felt before. They’d sneak out and skirt her guard to see a show in New York City or paddle a boat to a nearby cove to watch the sunset through the trees just so. She cherished that summer as her uncle recalled stories of his youth, a carefree but sheltered time with his brother. The minutes spent without her guard liberating and exhilarating, but always short. Once the cloak of surveillance enveloped her she felt relieved.

As the month rolled on, Eleanor found herself counting the days to her return to Cordonia even as she continued to adore every moment. The solitary life of a fox was not for her, flitting from place to place not calling anywhere or anyone home. She was born for the throne and no taste of freedom would pull her from her responsibility to her country and her people.

Uncle Bertrand. Ever a stick in her side. He always meant well. Bertrand was a stickler for rules and tradition. He reminded her why things were done a certain way, why titles were important, and why the dessert fork was located at the top of her place setting. Eleanor never retained all of it, but his lessons instilled a sense of pride behind how she pinned her medals just so and solidified the depth at which she bowed her head when greeting a guest. Never too far, you are queen after all. Being the expert of courtly traditions, Bertrand was tasked with ensuring she understood the meaning and origins of all of them.

She recalls being in full regalia late in her teens, wobbling on her high heels as Bertrand places a book on her head. A queen must walk with poise and never stumble, lest she give others something to talk about. Attention spans of people at court were short and if their queen tripped at an event the day after cementing the largest trade deal in the country’s history, only one moment would be talked about over dinner and it wasn’t the important one. Things were done a certain way out of respect and tradition. While it may seem outdated, sticking to it in many cases did little harm to others. It was in the grey areas however, Bertrand told her, that she would be asked to help the country forge a new path and develop new traditions to keep them ahead of an ever changing world.

As the book slipped from her head for the umpteenth time, Eleanor wondered what sort of lesson this was supposed to teach her. She watched Bertrand’s face as he sighed once again and scurried over to gather up the book. He smiled a rare smile and nodded at her. When she looked at him, confused, he merely shelved the book and complimented her inability to become frazzled by his ridiculous request. An important quality when one must speak with vapid and self-centered nobles.

Uncle Max. The brightest spot in her childhood. Maxwell never ceases to make her laugh and forget whatever issue had her down at the moment. He could never erase the largest pain of her life but he worked hard to help her deal with it in constructive and healing ways. He was more than the resident goofball; he was perceptive and loyal. Her most vivid memory of him was one afternoon as the sixth anniversary of her father’s passing. The age of ten can be a difficult time for a young girl and she envied more than anything her friends’ families, so whole and perfect. Not this broken amalgamation of people who never perfectly fit together. She couldn’t very well invite them all to parent’s night.

Her Uncle Maxwell senses something wrong and offers to help her pay tribute to her father, spending the better part of the day wandering the maze, standing at the well with her, in search of the perfect flower. Each time they think they’ve located it, another appears just around a bend or a few steps ahead. By the time they’d scoured the gardens they had well over a hundred. Her Uncle Max helped weave them into a gorgeous wreath and took her to hang in at the Royal Tomb. Never once did he make her feel like her feelings were silly or small.

As she hung the wreath at the placard indicating her father’s grave, Ellie noted just how valid her Uncle Maxwell made her feel that day. He took her broken heart and mended it with smiles and laughter, weaving it all together with the beautiful love he had for her. That they all did. It didn’t matter that they weren’t the same as the families of her schoolmates, they were something more. It didn’t matter that they were different.

Uncle Drake. The rock. Ever present and always reassuring. He’d taken it upon himself after her father’s death to give her some semblance of a childhood because it was what she deserved. She also realized at some point it was what probably held him together as well. He clung to her and kept her as safe as he possibly could. He played incessant princess games with her, fueled merely by her shrieks and laugh. She put him through a ringer, from the moment she got her first period when her mother was out of town to the time he caught her in the gardens during her first kiss, at her fourteenth birthday celebration. He was never angry or upset with her; he could never be. She was mortified when he chased the noble boy off, even if she laughed at the memory later that same night.

She never quite understood her mother’s and Drake’s relationship as she grew up. Somewhere in-between being friends and something more. She’d asked both of them on numerous occasions if Drake was going to be her new father. It was something neither of them ever needed from the other, a deep understanding that their relationship was never meant to be. Had her father still been alive, neither of them would’ve needed it. So it was that Drake took up residence eventually in an extra bedroom of the royal suite. Always nearby when needed, never too close for comfort when they both required space if the memory of her father became too real for them. She never understood it until much later, the need to just feel someone’s lips against your own, their skin under your fingertips, so you could feel like yourself, like you were alive.

As she watched Drake chase a fourteen year old boy through the hedge maze and away from her, Ellie noticed how Drake’s loyalty to her and her mother outshined all else in his life. Underneath the deep crimson of her cheeks, it was a quality she hoped she herself had.

Her own father. Whom she could scarcely remember. The fiercest love she would never know. What she does know of him are fleeting snips of moments. She can sometimes recall them with no issue and on other days she can scarcely remember what his face looked like. She knew he was a man to be reckoned with, proud, honest, kind, and humble. He was a king in every possible sense. His duty to his country and people was unrivaled. His love for his family was unmatched. He treated each of these two halves of his life as if they were his whole self.

She remembers how he would peek over his glasses at her, when he worked late at night in their living room. Instead of scolding her and sending her back to bed, he would offer her a seat next to him. Her tiny hand would bunch into his shirt as she leaned sleepily into him. The morning would break and the two of them would be found on the same spot. Her father dare not move lest he wake her and pull her from sleep. She remembers how his eyes shined when he laughed at her silly stories from the day. He was a king, but he was never too busy to lend an ear. She remembers his arms, strong and comforting around her, as he holds her close during a particularly scary storm one summer. She remembers resting her head against his upper arm in the limo on the way to some sort of boring public appearance. She never was sure if these were her own memories or those she created from the memories of others.

As she is lifted and spun around one day after her father returned home from yet another long trip abroad, she wondered if all the other children she knew had fathers who were superheroes like him. She supposed that her dad was special and more important than the rest. When she looked back on her memories of him, she realized he taught her the most important lesson of all: how to balance the crown and the self.

It is because of these five men that Ellie cannot choose who should walk her down the aisle on her wedding day. Tradition dictates that a member of her regent council should be responsible, but to do that would fly in the face of all the great men who made her who she is. In the many long and boring planning meetings, she put her foot down time and time again on the subject when she was met with opposition. The conversation would then turn to other traditions and customs, detailing their meaning and what they entailed as the planning committee ran through the schedule of the ceremony.

It is because of these five men that Ellie decides to have each of them escort her a part of the way down the nave of the cathedral. Leo first, a few meters before he kisses her cheek and Bertrand puts his arm out for her to take. Tears shine in his eyes, this tradition was something she’d so beautifully and masterfully modified to bring her wedding into one that would be remembered forever. A few meters. Maxwell awaits her, his arms wide, drawing her into a tight hug before he remembers where they were, a few more meters. He kisses both her cheeks. Drake stands proud waiting his turn, trying hard to belie the fact that he’s already crying. Her hand slips into the crook of his elbow and he walks her a few more meters to the crossing, where the nave and transept meet in the cathedral. As she starts to let her hand fall from his arm, she feels him grasp her hand and he looks at her wordlessly and nods.

It is from here she walks alone. The furthest distance of her journey to be done in memory of the man she wishes she knew the most, her father, the king. The man. Her left hand slips from her bouquet to a small, discrete pocket custom sewn into her gown only days before. It is here where she keeps her most prized possession with her on this momentous day. The letter from her father, words meant only for her. Words that kept him alive in her heart. Her fingers run over the envelope’s surface within her pocket, a reassuring texture on this pivotal day in her life. As she starts her final steps and catches the glance of her husband to be, she wondered if he would’ve approved. She has to believe he would and her heart is so incredibly full.